He smoothed her hair from her brow, hand cupping her cheek.
“I’ll do it as often as you need. Even if my only reward is that sound you just made.”
Auryn flushed. “You’re shameless.”
“And you’re still too pale. I think you might need more.”
She laughed until her voice caught. He brushed his nose against hers, and for a moment she lost herself in his azure gaze. Not the fire of the Resh’Agar. Not the boundless ocean. Just Kailorien. Her Silari, looking out from his soul to hers through a window. Seeing that—his adoration, his fierce need for her—kindled to life a softer ache in her throat, one made of something too tender to name.
“I’m already so full of you,” she said, barely above a whisper. “If you give me any more, I may well burst.”
His pupils widened, and she shivered at the sight.
“Not full enough,” he said, voice suddenly rough. “I want to fill every space between us. Until you stand upright. Until, no matter how the wind blows, there’s no room left for you to fall.”
Her fingers traced the edge of his jaw. “You say things like that and expect me to walk anywhere without floating.”
His lips quirked. “I expect you to walk beside me.”
“And if I stumble?”
“Then I’ll carry you.”
A silence passed.
She leaned forward and kissed him.Fully. No Breathweaving this time. No ritual. Just her mouth on his, soft and sure, threaded with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.
He didn’t move at first. Then his hand came up—doting, gentle—smoothing against the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss, groaning low in his throat like she’d unspooled something primal inside him. When she finally took a moment to breathe, her smile was all shimmer and satisfaction.
“I think I have the courage to face the day now.”
“Oh?” He raised a brow. “And what plans does my Sokâr have?”
“Let’s go to the Prismatum,” she suggested. “I want to see the Lustrate.”
Kailorien frowned. “There’s still blood on the looms.”
She kissed his cheek. “Should I be frightened?”
Somehow, he looked frustrated, impatient, and irritated all at once.
“Right now?” he asked, voice hoarse.
She nodded. “If I’m to go before the Council soon, I need to have a good grasp of everything that’s happening.”
He stared at her. A long, unreadable moment. His eyes dragged over her skin like fire, cataloging every inch, every thread of softness, every breath she took.
Then—without warning—helunged.
Auryn squeaked as he pulled her down into the blankets and pinned her beneath him, careful butwild, eyes glowing like blue embers banked too long.
“I will take you,” he murmured darkly, mouth brushing her throat, “beforethe Prismatum. Before the whispers. Before the world dares to question your right to stand beside me.”
She didn’t protest.
Didn’t even pretend to.
His lips grazed her pulse, and she gasped when he whispered:
