His words were my undoing. I shattered around his fingers, my body convulsing as pleasure crashed over me in waves. Through the bond, I felt his satisfaction, his deep contentment at my response. He worked me through it, his touch gentling as the aftershocks faded, leaving me boneless and gasping.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses to my shoulder. “You are magnificent when you surrender.”
I turned my head to look at him, studying the way the dying light from the window played across his features. “Is it always like this? The bond—can you always feel what I feel?”
His expression grew thoughtful. “It will strengthen over time. Eventually, yes. We will know each other’s hearts as well as our own.” He paused, his amber eyes searching mine. “Does this frighten you?”
I considered the question seriously. The idea of such intimacy should have terrified me. In the old world, before the war, I’d guarded my privacy fiercely. But lying here with Solantus, feeling the warm pulse of connection between us, I found I wasn’t afraid.
five
TAMSIN
Iwoke to heat—pervasive, all-encompassing heat that had me instantly kicking off the covers despite the morning chill I could see frosting the windows. The sheets beneath me steamed, actual wisps of vapor rising from the fabric where my body pressed against it. The residual heat of a hellhound, I realized, as memories of the night flooded back. My body ached pleasantly, marked by our joining in ways both visible and not. The bond thrummed inside me, a new sixth sense I couldn’t quite define but nevertheless felt with absolute certainty.
Solantus wasn’t beside me. The indent where his massive form had lain was still warm, the sheets there not merely steaming but actually smoldering at the edges. I ran my fingers over the spot, fascinated by the heat that lingered hours after he’d left it.
I sat up, wincing slightly at the tender soreness between my thighs—a reminder of the intensity of our consummation. My skin bore faint marks where his heat had branded me, not burns exactly, but a kind of luminous tracing along my hips and inner thighs where he had gripped me. They didn’t hurt. If anything, they tingled pleasantly when I traced them with my fingertips.
The bond inside me pulsed stronger as I acknowledged these marks. Possessive. Claiming. Mine. The feeling wasn’t entirely my own, I realized with a start. Somehow, I was sensing Solantus’s emotions through our newly formed connection.
A tray on the bedside table caught my attention—laden with what appeared to be breakfast, though unlike any I’d seen during my time in Sanctuary. Fruits that resembled pomegranates but with translucent, ruby-like seeds that glowed from within. Something that might have been bread, dark as volcanic rock with veins of molten amber running through it. A pot of tea, the steam rising from it carrying an aroma of cinnamon and something alien but enticing.
I reached for the tea first, surprised when the handle warmed instantly to my touch, adjusting to a perfect temperature. Another small wonder of this new world I’d entered. The liquid inside was dark as night but with swirls of gold that danced as I tilted the cup. It tasted of spice and honey and something untamable—like drinking liquid fire without the burn.
As I sipped, I felt it—a presence, watching. I turned slowly to find Solantus in the corner of the room, partially concealed by shadow. His amber eyes reflected the morning light, steady and unblinking as they fixed on me. His tail—thick and powerful—twitched slightly, the only movement in his otherwise statue-still form.
“Good morning,” I offered, suddenly aware of my nakedness under his intense gaze.
He didn’t speak, but inclined his head in acknowledgment. The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable exactly, but weighted with all the things we didn’t yet know about each other.
I turned my attention to the strange fruit, breaking one open to find those glowing seeds nestled inside. When I put one in my mouth, it burst with sweet heat, warming me from the inside out. “This is delicious,” I said, more to fill the silence than anything else.
The bond between us hummed with satisfaction. He was pleased that I enjoyed the food he’d provided. I understood this without words, a knowledge that flowed through our connection.
I tried the bread next, finding it warm despite having sat there while I slept. The amber veins turned out to be some kind of honey-like substance, sweet and smoky at once. Everything on the tray seemed designed to warm, to nourish with heat rather than just sustenance.
“Did you make this?” I asked, genuinely curious about where these otherworldly foods had come from.
His tail twitched again, and he shifted slightly in his corner. Through the bond, I felt something like pride, mixed with uncertainty. He hadn’t cooked it himself, I understood, but he had selected it specifically for me.
I continued eating, increasingly aware of the dichotomy of our situation. Legally bound, physically intimate, yet practically strangers. The counselor had warned that the first days would be awkward, regardless of species. Cultural differences would need to be navigated, boundaries established.
As I finished the last of the fruit, Solantus finally moved from his corner. He approached the bed with measured steps, his movements fluid and powerful. In his hands, I noticed, he carried a pair of slippers—elegant things made from some dark,supple material with embroidery that seemed to shimmer and move in the light.
He stopped at the edge of the bed and, to my surprise, dropped into a deep bow, extending the slippers toward me with his head lowered. The gesture was so formal, so unexpected after the raw intimacy we’d shared the night before, that I felt heat rush to my cheeks.
“Thank you,” I managed, reaching for the slippers.
As my fingers brushed against his in taking them, a spark of heat jolted through me. Not painful, but intense—a reminder of the fire that burned within him. The bond between us flared in response, carrying feelings of devotion and service that left me momentarily breathless.
I slipped the footwear on, finding them perfectly sized and startlingly comfortable. They warmed instantly to my feet, like everything else associated with him, radiating a gentle heat that was deeply soothing.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, wiggling my toes. “And warm.”
His eyes lifted to meet mine, and for a moment, I thought he might speak. Instead, he straightened from his bow and gestured toward a door I hadn’t noticed before—likely leading to a bathroom or closet.
I stood, suddenly conscious again of my nakedness, though his gaze remained respectfully on my face. The slippers made soft padding sounds as I crossed the plush carpet. Each step sent small waves of warmth up through my soles, as if the floor itself heated in response to my movement.
