"You tell me every day."
"Not enough." I kissed the swell of her breast, felt her breath stutter. "Not nearly enough."
I took my time working my way down her body, relearning the map of her with my mouth and my hands. The sensitive spot beneath her navel that made her gasp. The way her hips rose to meet me when I kissed the inside of her thigh.
I knew this body. I knew every curve and hollow, every place that made her sigh and every place that made her moan. But tonight I explored her as if it were our first time, memorizing the texture of her skin, the sound of her breathing, the way her muscles shifted with her growing need.
I didn't know why I felt compelled to commit every detail to memory. Perhaps it was because Kailin had gone through yet another metamorphosis after bonding with Morgateth, and I felt like this new version of her deserved to be learned anew.
Or maybe it was instinct, the same gut feeling that had driven me to stay for the bonding instead of going home, the same instinct that had pulled me toward Veynathei on the roof.
Something in me sensed that this was fleeting, that moments like this should be embraced with a grateful heart because there was no guarantee that there would be more. But I pushed that disturbing thought aside because there was no room for dark thoughts or vague premonitions tonight.
"Alar." My name on her lips was the finest thing I'd ever heard. Better than my title, better than my family name, better than any honor or accolade I'd been raised to aspire to. Just Alar, whispered in the dark by the woman I loved.
"I'm here," I said, lifting my head to meet her eyes. "And I'm not going anywhere."
The moment the words had left my lips I wanted to take them back because I couldn't promise her that. Not with my mother's letters lurking in the back of my mind and threatening to undermine everything I had worked for, everything I cherished.
She pulled me up, wrapping her arms around my neck, and kissed me with devastating tenderness. When I entered her again, slowly, watching her face the entire time, the connection that flared between us was so intense that for a moment I couldn't distinguish my heartbeat from hers.
We moved together with the ease of two people who had learned each other's rhythms over many shared nights. She hooked her leg over my hip, changing the angle, and the sound that escaped her was raw and unguarded.
I pressed my forehead against hers, our breath mingling, our eyes locked. "Stay with me," I whispered.
"Always," she whispered back.
I increased the pace gradually, guided by her responses, the hitch in her breathing, the tightening of her fingers on my shoulders, and the way her back arched when I found the right angle and rhythm. She was close. I could feel it in the tension building in her body, in the way she stopped breathing for long seconds and then gasped.
"Let go, Kailin," I told her. "I've got you."
She did and watching her come undone was beautiful. Her body shuddered, her nails bit into my shoulders, and as she cried out my name, it was loud enough to make me pray that the walls were thick enough to muffle the sound.
I followed her moments later, burying my face in the curve of her neck, and for a few breathless seconds the entire world contracted to the space between our bodies.
We lay tangled together afterward, hearts pounding, skin damp, breathing in unison. I rolled onto my back and pulled her against my side, and she settled into her usual position with her head on my chest and her leg thrown over mine.
"That was different," she murmured.
"Yes," I agreed. "It was."
"I'm stronger."
"I know."
She laughed softly against my skin, and I felt the vibration travel through my ribcage and settle in my heart.
The world around us was quiet except for our breathing and the faint sounds of wind against the windows. The auroras cast their shifting light across the ceiling, painting slow-moving patterns that seemed to pulse in time with the bond humming contentedly at the back of my mind.
Veynathei should be asleep in the aviary, but I was still aware of her presence through the bond.
Kailin traced patterns with her fingers on my chest. Circles and spirals that might have been letters in an alien language, something like the symbols that Codric was trying to decipher. Her touch was light, almost absent, the way she drew in her sketchbook when she got distracted.
"What's on your mind?" I asked.
"How different everything is from when it all started." Her voice was drowsy, the words coming slower. "Six months ago, I was sketching Chicha in my grandmother's house and dreading the pilgrimage. I was afraid of heights. I was afraid of dragons. I was afraid of becoming something I didn't want to be."
"And now?"
