Her eyes finally opened, glassy with exhaustion but clearer now, more present. She looked at me with such profound trust, such vulnerability, that it stole my breath.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.
I pulled her close again, wrapping both of us in the remaining dry cloth, holding her against my chest where she fit perfectly. "Always, my mate. Always."
I lifted her in my arms, carrying her to the bed. It would take at least an hour for Numa to return with Lilibet. We had time, and I needed to hold my mate.
I settled us onto the mattress, holding her near, burying my face in her hair and breathing deep. No trace of Kwado stink, no remnants of violence, just Jolie. Just my mate, safe and whole in my arms.
I'd only meant to hold her, to allow us the rest we both desperately needed. But as her body pressed against mine, warm and pliant and alive, I found myself wanting her. Needing her. Needing the connection that would prove we had survived, together.
My hand traced the curve of her spine, a touch that started as comfort but deepened into something more. She stirred against me, tilting her face up, and I saw the same need reflected in her eyes. Not just desire, but something more, the instinctive urge to affirm life after coming so close to death.
"Diarvet," she whispered, her voice still raw but steadier. Her palm flattened against my chest, right over my heart where it thundered beneath her touch.
"I need you," I admitted, my voice rough. "Need to feel you, to know you're really here, really safe."
"Yes," she breathed. It was answer and plea and permission all at once.
I kissed her, slowly at first, tenderly, my lips moving against hers with reverent care. She'd been through so much, and I needed her to know this wasn't about taking but about sharing. About reconnecting after nearly losing everything.
Her mouth opened beneath mine, and the kiss deepened, grew more urgent, our tongues tangling and dancing together. Her fingers threaded through my hair, pulling me closer. I felt the shift in her, felt the way her body arched into mine, seeking more contact.
I rolled her onto her back, bracing myself above her, taking my time to look at her. Her blonde splayed across the pillow, still damp at the ends. Her brown eyes, luminous and trusting. The dark pink flush spreading across her cheeks and down her throat.
"Beautiful," I murmured, tracing the line of her collarbone with my fingertips. "My brave, beautiful mate."
She reached up, cupping my face, drawing me down for another kiss. This one was fiercer, edged with desperation and relief. I could taste the salt of her earlier tears, and felt the tremor that still ran through her body.
"Touch me," she whispered against my lips. "Please, Diarvet. I need you."
I obliged, sliding my hand down the side of her body, mapping every curve and hollow. Her breath hitched when my palm curved over her hip, fingers splaying possessively across her thigh. I took my time, caressing her slowly, watching her face for every reaction.
When I finally let my fingertips graze along the warm, wet flesh at the juncture of her thighs, she gasped, her back arching off the mattress. She was already dripping, already ready for me, and the knowledge sent a surge of heat through my entire body.
"That's it, zeihava," I murmured, working her with patient, deliberate strokes, feeling her desire coating my fingers. "Just feel. Just be here with me."
Her hands clutched at my shoulders, nails digging in slightly as pleasure began to replace the shadows of trauma. I watched her face, memorizing every expression, the way her lipsparted, the flutter of her eyelashes, the small sounds of pleasure that escaped her throat.
"Please," she gasped, her hips rising to meet my touch. "I need you. All of you."
I positioned myself at her entrance, pausing to search her gaze one more time. "Tell me if it's too much. Tell me if you need me to stop."
"Don't stop," she said firmly, wrapping her legs around my waist. "Don't you dare stop."
I entered her slowly, carefully, giving her body time to adjust. She was tight and warm around me, perfect, and I had to grit my teeth against the overwhelming sensation. When I was fully seated, I paused, forehead pressed to hers, both of us breathing hard.
"Okay?" I managed.
"More than okay," she whispered, rolling her hips experimentally. The friction making us both groan.
I began to move then, thrusting slow and deep, each movement deliberate and measured, meant only to give her pleasure. Iet my hand slip between us, my finger coming to rest against her clit with steady taps.
Her hands roamed my back, my shoulders, clutching and releasing in time with my movements. I kissed her neck, her jaw, the sensitive spot behind her ear, her breasts, murmuring words of praise and devotion against her skin.
"So good," I rasped against her skin. "So perfect. Mine. You're mine, Jolie, and I will never let anything harm you again."
"Yours," she agreed breathlessly, her inner muscles beginning to flutter around me. "Always yours."
