Auryn closed her eyes and released the walls she’d put in place. The Bond quaked between them—too full, too raw, too vast to be contained. Her heart swelled until she thought it might burst.
But even as joy flooded her, a shiver curled at the edges.
Shu’Khan’s smile rose in her memory—too measured, too sharp.
Zeera’s mocking voice whispered again, 'May the Destroyer guide your steps.'
Auryn tightened her grip on Kailorien’s hand. Emerald light surrounded them, the corridor cocooning them in its marble cloak. The Polis pulsed with their heated breaths, each sound a touch that excited the mana within, spurring it to warmth, to flow, to life.
Stars, but he was a sight in his full armor. Towering, broad, and terrible as a coming hurricane. The air bent to his will. His hands could crush metal and break bone. The magic within him was a calamity waiting to be unleashed.
A being forged to orchestrate the world’s ruin.
A man wrapped in the mantle of a monster.
Hermadness.Hercataclysm.
In the wake of his words, he’d left her buoyant. Floating. Hopeful that this was the last unspoken thing between them.
Forgiveness asked.
Absolution granted.
Not just for him, but for her, too. For loving him more than anyone had right to, and for pulling him into her orbit when she was a comet doomed for starfall.
“My Bonded,” she whispered. “I love you. All of you. Even the war in your blood. Even the madness.”
He lowered her to the ground, pressing his lips to her heart, whispering her true name in a rough timbre that echoed deep between her thighs. She bit her lip as his mouth slipped lower.
A pause as his vast blue eyes met hers again.
He asked without asking.
Always.
“Kneel, Resh’Agar,” she rasped.
“As you command, my Sovereign Star.”
He obeyed.
It was like watching the sun kneel before the moon.
As he touched the floor, his armored boots shook the marble. His thick black cloak floated and settled around him. Dark hair spilled down his shoulders as he hooked a hand behind her knee and brought her thigh to his lips. The kiss was chaste. Worshipful. Something Doctrine had never dreamed of.
Yet Auryn had.
Many times, she’d dreamed of him kneeling just like this.
But seeing it now, unfolding before her very eyes, did not do it justice.
“How shall I serve you?” he asked.
But Auryn’s courage had flown away with all her sense when she witnessed the molten need in his eyes. When his touch moved farther inward. When his gloved hands slipped aside the folds of her kasara and he pressed his lips to her center. Her head tipped back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. But she didn’t feel it.
Only the cold press of the marble at her back.
The hot grip of his hands against her body.
