Late in the night,Morgen startled so abruptly, she nearly fell off the bed in alarm.
“Morgen,” Nya whispered, reaching for him.
He sat up, running a hand roughly through his hair. He must have been sleeping too; she wasn’t the only one haunted by nightmares.
She took his hand, pressing her lips to the inside of his wrist. “You’re alright.”
He took a slow, shuddering breath. “I know.”
“Was it bad? The dream?”
He paused then cleared his throat twice. “I didn’t lie when I said the palace exists where it does for a reason.”
She didn’t understand what he was trying to tell her at first, but when he didn’t explain further, she realized he meant that, in order to rule Arcadia, they would need to return there, to the place of all his childhood nightmares. She had no doubt all but one of the scars visible on his skin had been given to him there. Kronos, in his infinite creative torture, had found ways to make them last, despite the embers.
“I’m sorry,” she said, curling against his side. “I wish you didn’t have to go back there.”
He tugged her closer and wrapped his arms around her, breathing evenly again. “I wish I didn’t either,” he whispered into her hair.
“I’ll be with you.”
“I wish you didn’t have to see it, or be forced to rule and stay?—”
“Morgen.”
“—with me.”
She shook her head, searching his expression. “Do you really still think I don’t want to be with you now?”
He looked away. “I did force you into this. If you need some space for a while, I won’t?—”
But he cut himself off, inhaling sharply when she brushed her lips against the curve of his neck, just shy of the binding scar. She did it again, moving closer to the spot she knew would make him lose control.
“Nya,” he said, voice strangled. “You’re still?—”
“I’m fine,” she murmured against his heated skin. “You really need to stop making assumptions about how I feel.”
“Are you sure?” he pushed. His hands slid up to her face, cupping her cheeks as she shifted to straddle his lap. “You’re not in pain anymore?”
Her lips tugged with a small smile, and she leaned her forehead against his. “Are you never not in a little bit of pain?”
His thumbs brushed absentmindedly over the curve of her cheekbones. “I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case for you, since you have less mortal blood, but…yes. The embers always wear a little bit.”
“Okay.” She smiled fully now, pressing the heel of her palm against his heartbeat. “So, I’m in pain, but it’s normal pain.”
“I just want to make sure—” He began but cut himself off with a surprised groan as she rolled her hips against his.
“Trust me,” she breathed, nipping at his mouth.
He slid a hand behind her neck, tangling his long fingers in her hair. “Only you,” he murmured before kissing her.
Neither of them took it further than that for a while, though she was hyperaware he was completely hard beneath her. When he started to figure out if he pushed his hips into hers at certain angles, she whimpered and shivered, he began to do it more and more, until she was a trembling mess on top of him.
“If I touch you right now,” he said roughly, kissing along the curve of her neck and sucking on the binding scar, “I think you’ll come within seconds.”
She didn’t tell him he probably didn’t even need to do that, because it was already happening. He fisted his hand in the fabric of her long tunic, pumping his hips and swearing under his breath as she panted, her forehead pressed against his shoulder.
“Did you come?” she murmured sometime later, nipping at his jaw, her eyes half-lidded and her mind hazy.
