His breath left him in a long, shaking exhale. She soughtgrounding.Safety.
“You’re sure?” he whispered, voice low, as if the steam might carry the words away. “You’re fevered. You’re shaking.”
“I know what I’m asking.” Her voice cracked, raw and brave. “You are the only thing in my body that doesn’t hurt right now.”
He closed his eyes. “Then let me remind you,” he whispered. “Your body isyours. Your pleasure. Your flame.”
She let her forehead fall to his. “Take it. The fear. Burn it out of me.”
He pulled her closer. Still cautious. Prepared to stop if she commanded it. His touch was featherlight against her thighs, up the curve of her hips, across the swell of her belly.
No haste. No demand. Just warmth, grounding, truth. Her hips arched into his palm, and he followed her rhythm, giving no more than she offered. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, the place where her pulse raced wild.
And when she crested—this time bychoice, byhim, not from stolen echoes—her whole body loosened, breaking free of the chains the ritual had clamped around her. Kailorien held her there, through every fluttering breath.
“You’re safe,” he whispered. “You’re mine. Thatthingwon’t touch you again.”
“I know,” she whispered. “Because you touched me first. Before anything or anyone. Your face is the first I saw. Your hands were the first I wanted.”
“You are my world, Auryn.”
Kailorien didn’t move for a long time. The fire in her veins had dulled—not gone, but soothed. Quieted. Like a wild thing lulled in the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
Her limbs grew heavier, her thoughts softer, more scattered. The Bond flared between them again. Cautious, he shifted beneath her, bracing her weight as he walked to the stairs in the pool. Her arms stayed looped around his shoulders, her face pressed to his neck as though seeking shelter from the cold.
“Tired…” she whispered.
“I won’t leave you,” he murmured. “Let your body rest.”
He stepped from the bath, steam curling off their skin. He grabbed one of the large woven towels from the basin’s edge and wrapped it around them both as best he could, then carried her to the hearth and lowered them onto the thick furs beside it.
With care, he dried her limbs, her hair, her face. She was half-asleep by the time he reached her feet, murmuring soft, unintelligible phrases. Changing out of his own wet clothes, he laid down, climbing in beside her.
“Kail…”
“I’m here,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“I’ll save you,” she breathed.
His eyes closed.
“You already did.”
15
Undying Heat
Four days after I have made my vow to the Void, I chant the Litany of Silence in the breaking hours of dawn. My throat bleeds from the lies I am forced to utter, and I take the pain as penance for obedience. Standing still as stone, I stare into the glowing orb of the managram, maintaining the perfect mask of the ice cold Sokâr’s visage.
For now, I do not have a choice but to keep order.
To chant.
To light the Polis with the prayer and maintain the illusion of compliance.
I could Weave. I could call upon the silver in my veins and see how far its righteous fury might take me in divine retribution. Iwantto. By the skies, the winds, and all that lives and breathes, I have never wanted something so much.
They brutalized the man I love.
