I pull my fingers free and bring them to my mouth, licking them clean while she watches, her breath hitching. "Still think I’m the one in danger?"
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she shoves me onto my back and straddles my chest, her thighs bracketing my shoulders. "Open."
I obey.
Her cunt is right there, glistening, and when she lowers herself onto my mouth, I groan against her, my tongue already working her open. She tastes like salt and heat and herself, and I could drown in it. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling just enough to make my scalp prickle, and then she’s riding my face, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles.
I grip her thighs, my claws pricking her skin just enough to make her gasp. "Fuck, Tarken?—"
I don’t let up. I lick her like I’m starving, like she’s the only thing that’s ever mattered, and when she comes, it’s with my name on her lips and her thighs trembling around my head.
She doesn’t give me time to recover. She slides down my body, her mouth hot and wet as she takes me in, her tongue swirling around the head before she hollows her cheeks and sucks. I groan, my hips jerking up, and she pulls back just enough to smirk. "Still think you’re in control?"
I grab her by the hair and pull her up, kissing her hard, tasting myself on her tongue. "I never said I was."
She laughs, breathless, and then she’s straddling me again, her hand guiding me to her entrance. "Then stop trying."
I don’t.
I let her sink down on me, inch by inch, until she’s fully seated, her body clenching around me like she never wants to let go. And when she starts to move, I don’t hold back. I meet her thrust for thrust, my hands gripping her hips, my claws digging into her skin just enough to leave marks.
She moans, her head falling back, and I lean up, my mouth finding her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. "You’re mine," I growl against her skin.
She laughs, breathless, and tightens around me. "And you’re mine."
I come with her name on my lips, my release spilling into her, marking her in the most primal way I know how. And when she collapses against me, her breath warm against my neck, I wrap my arms around her and hold on.
Like I’ll never let go.
CHAPTER 39
ALANA
Ilean against the warm stone, staring over Timberline's towers. The breeze carries whispers of the past, pulling memories to the surface—the smoke-filled corridors, the failing conduits, and that deep exhaustion, pressing on my spirit like the weight of the sky itself. I almost walked away. Almost allowed myself to believe that I was merely passing through, that my presence was temporary, a fleeting gust across this alien world. Yet, it's become clear now: I am a part of this place, woven into its core as surely as the Jalshagar binds me to Tarken.
The thought doesn't hurt anymore. It surfaces gently, reminding me of the battles we've fought and the peace we've carved from the jaws of potential extinction. My pulse steadies, heartbeats merging with the rhythm of the city below—vibrant, alive, healing. The truth is comforting, not a burden. I've come far from that tentative step onto Paragon's soil, fear clinging to resolve like shadows at sunrise.
But here, on this terrace overlooking the future Timberline grows into with each day, I find not just solace but strength. A reminder of what I've become, of what we've built together, and the life now stretching ahead—one crafted by choice.
Below me, Paragon glows with a vitality that makes my heart swell. The transport lines glide smoothly through the city, their movement synchronized with the rhythms of life here. The markets are bustling, their vibrant colors spread like a tapestry across the streets. Vendors call out with exuberant energy, voices mingling with the laughter of children weaving between the towering spires—a melody that breathes life into every corner of Timberline.
My eyes follow the gardens that now climb these structures, lush green against the steel where rust once bled. They've transformed the skyline into a living testament of renewal and rebirth. The plants seem to dance as they climb upward, nurtured by the hands of a people finally freed from their chains. I remember the day I stepped off that shuttle, feeling like a stranger in a world resistant to change. Now, that same world vibrates with the promise of tomorrow.
The twin suns have begun their descent behind the skyline, casting gold and pale fire across the cityscape. They weave together like threads in a cosmic fabric that stretches beyond comprehension. Their light blurs the edges of the horizon, a soft embrace that reminds me of warmth after chilling uncertainty. It's a vision worthy of lingering—a peaceful transition from day to night, and yet so much more than simple survival.
It's beautiful.
I find myself smiling, an unguarded moment of simple joy that bursts forth from the depths of my being. There it is, the realization I once feared: that life here isn't merely about existence. It's about thriving, weaving past and present into an intricate, evolving tapestry of the future. Tarken's strength reassures me, his presence a constant anchor in the ebb and flow of our shared life. There's no urgency in this bond, no lingering doubt that we'll falter.
"Timberline looks different from here." His voice resonates beside me, a rich, grounding note.
I nod, the comfort of his nearness blending with the energy surrounding us. "Different in the best ways. Like it took the scars and made them a tapestry."
He smiles—an expression softened by the fading light. "You see things the way they're meant to be," he replies. "Not just surviving, but growing."
We stand on the precipice of this new era, hand in hand, bound by love and choice. I look into his eyes, finding the reassurance that remains steadfast in their depths. There’s no need for ceremony, no rush. For now, contentment suffices. We watch the suns set, knowing that tomorrow, we'll continue weaving this harmonious future.
I breathe deeply, letting the tranquil hum of Timberline seep into every fiber. In my chest, the bond pulses gently. It isn't a chain or cage—it’s a thread sewn into the fabric of my being. I close my eyes, sensing Tarken’s presence nestled into the heart of the city. His essence lingers softly in the background, not as a tug or demand, but as a connection, a shared whisper within the greater symphony. I feel the subtleties of his emotions flit through the bond, subtle and comforting, affirming the unity we've forged in trust and shared struggle.
