“Not a task.”
His eyes meet mine.
“No.”
“Then stop treating wanting me like it might hurt me.”
His control shudders. The bond flares.
“Sera.”
“I want more,” I say again, and now the words are not for the City, not for Adran, not for anyone listening beyond the door. “Here. With you.”
He moves then. Still careful of my wounds. Still braced so I could shift away. Still Kavor. But no longer distant. No longer waiting at the edge of my wanting as if it might vanish if he breathes too hard.
He kisses me with the hunger he has been holding back since the cavern, and I answer with every starved, stubborn, living part of me.
The rest becomes heat.
Touch.
Breath.
His name breaks from my mouth.
My name in his voice, wrecked and reverent.
The bond glows between us, not bright enough to wake the stone, not sharp enough to call the system. Just warm. Blue-gold under the skin. A private light.
When the pleasure finally breaks over me, it does not feel like being consumed.
It feels like being full.
I cling to him through it, shaking, laughing once because I don’t know what else to do with a body that has betrayed me by being capable of this much joy.
Kavor follows me over with a sound against my throat, something older than words. He holds himself above me until Iwrap my legs around him and pull him close, careful of my ribs and careless of everything else.
His weight settles by degrees. Not crushing. Anchoring.
I have spent my life trying to become light enough not to burden anyone. For the first time, being held down feels like rest.
The thought undoes me. Tears slip free. Kavor lifts at once.
“No,” I say, grabbing him before he can retreat. “Stay.”
He freezes. I breathe through the ache. The good one. The terrifying one.
“Stay,” I say again.
He lowers his forehead to mine.
“I am here.”
“I know.”
“I will stay as long as you choose.”
A laugh breaks out of me, wet and tired.
