“Gods,” he groans against my skin. “You undo me.”
I lean back just enough to look at him, to see the man who once carried the weight of kingdoms in silence now gaze at me like I am the only thing worth worshiping. I run my fingers through his hair, cradling his jaw.
“Then be undone,” I whisper. “With me.”
His arms tighten, and in one swift motion, he rolls us so I am beneath him, the lace pooling like mist around my hips. But he doesn’t rush. He hovers, forearms braced beside my shoulders, gaze devouring every inch of me like he’s memorizing the shape of a moment he’s waited his whole life to claim.
“You are a force,” he says low, voice thick with want. “One I will always meet, exactly where you are. I’ll match you. Drive you. Make the earth tremble beneath your reign.”
He dips his head, mouth trailing heat along the curve of my throat, each kiss a vow pressed into skin. My hands roam the breadth of his back, feeling the ripple of muscle, the coiled strength barely leashed.
I arch beneath him, hips meeting his, the friction enough to steal my breath. He groans against my collarbone, a sound that reverberates deep in my core.
“You wear your power like a second skin,” he murmurs, lips brushing the swell of my breast through the lace. “And gods help me, I want to tear it away and taste the fire beneath.”
My fingers tangle in his hair, guiding his mouth where I need him. “Then burn with me.”
His control frays. The way his hands grip my thighs, the way his mouth worships and claims in equal measure—it’s not soft. It’s not delicate. It’s reverent and wild, raw and consuming. The kind of worship that wrecks and rebuilds.
The room melts away. There is no crown, no threat, no court. Only us. Two souls in collision. His body against mine, his name gasped into the hush between candle flickers, the lace no longer a barrier but a thread unraveling.
And when he finally pushes into me—slow, deep, inevitable—I gasp, clutching at his shoulders, my voice barely a whisper.
“Vale—”
He stills, forehead pressed to mine once more, his breath ragged.
“Mine,” he growls, reverent and raw.
“Yours,” I echo, claiming just as fiercely. “Always.”
There is nothing left but heat, rhythm, and the exquisite surrender of being known completely—queen and king, flame and shadow, soul and soul.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Iknow we slept. The way our bodies twist and stretch to greet the day proves it. And yet, the burning memory of what felt like an endless night of heat lingers in such delicious detail; it’s hard to believe we didn’t greet the sun still in the throes of passion.
I roll onto my stomach, perched on my elbows, basking in the man beside me. Biting my lip, I revel in the sight of him—each stretch and flex as he yawns, highlighting the power of the man I get to call mine.
“Good morning, my flame,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.
“Mmm. Good morning, husband,” I say, my voice catching, still hoarse from crying out his name through the night.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” he teases, clearly pleased. And he should be—last night erased every shadow of the day. I feel it, though, the slight crack in my smile when my mind begins to drift back. I push it down as best I can. This moment is ours. This bed, this man—my sanctuary. I will linger here in peace as long as I can.
He brushes a stray hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear with the reverence of a vow. A fullness settles in my chest—to be cared for, truly cared for, by the man I love more than anything in this world. I thank the gods I could ever be so fortunate.
I rise and move into his arms, which wrap around me without hesitation. The smell of sweat and heat still clings to our skin.
“We’re due a honeymoon,” he says softly. “I have business I must tend to, but very soon—I’d like to take you to the Jewel. Somewhere I can have you all to myself.”
I light up, the excitement in my chest mirrored in his face. His hand slides up my arm as I rise to kiss him, spurred by his invitation. I know I will always share him with duty, just as I will have my own obligations. But the promise of a private retreat, just him and me… it may be the greatest gift I’ve ever received.
He laughs at my reaction, which only spurs me further. In a moment, I’m showing him just how eager I am for that escape.
I press a damp cloth to my brow, cooling the sweat brought on by the continuation of our wedding night. Vale begins to dress, and I’m grateful no one would dare disturb us on such a sacred morning. Still, I sense the pull of the world returning. Each button he fastens draws him further toward responsibility. I almost pout, but the promise of a honeymoon keeps me eager for the world to settle.
Vale is fully dressed now, yet I still remain in my robe. He kisses me farewell, hunger still blazing in his eyes—a hunger we may never sate but never stop trying.
