I could feel her climbing toward release, the way her breathing changed, the way her body tensed, her inner walls starting to flutter around me. I shifted my angle slightly, hittingthat spot inside her that made her cry out, and increased my pace just enough to drive her higher.
"Let go," I urged. "I've got you. Let go for me."
She shattered screaming out my name, her body clenching around me in waves of pleasure that went on and on. The sight and feel of her coming undone pushed me over the edge, and I followed her into bliss, burying myself deep as my own release crashed through me.
We stayed locked together as the aftershocks faded, both of us trembling and gasping for breath. I carefully withdrew and rolled to the side, immediately pulling her against me, wrapping her in my arms where she belonged.
"I love you," I whispered into her hair, my heart still pounding hard enough that I was certain she could feel it.
She tilted her face up, and I saw tears again, but these were different. These were tears of relief, of joy, of the overwhelming emotion that came with surviving and finding yourself still capable of feeling pleasure, of feeling love.
"I love you too," she whispered back, her hand coming to rest over my heart. "Thank you for protecting me."
"Always," I promised, pressing a kiss on her forehead.
We lay there in comfortable silence for several minutes, her head on my chest, my fingers trailing lazy patterns on her shoulder. The world outside could wait. For now, there was only this—the two of us, together and whole.
Her breathing gradually slowed, each exhale warm and steady against my skin. I felt the precise moment her body fully relaxed as sleep began to claim her. Her hand, which had been tracing absent patterns across my ribs, stilled and came to rest over my heart.
"Sleep, zeihava," I murmured, pressing my lips to the crown of her head. "I've got you."
She made a small, contented sound—something between a hum and a sigh—and burrowed closer, her leg sliding between mine, her arm tightening around my waist. Even as consciousness slipped away, she sought closeness, sought connection.
I adjusted the thin blanket over us, making sure her shoulders were covered, then settled back against the pillow with her tucked against my side. The treehouse was quiet around us, just the distant sounds of the Peecha working outside, the occasional creak of wood settling, the whisper of wind through the leaves.
My own eyes grew heavy as I watched her sleep. The lines of stress that had been etched around her eyes and mouth had smoothed away, leaving her face peaceful. Her lips were slightly parted, her lashes dark crescents against her cheeks. Beautiful. Always so beautiful.
I let my hand rest on the curve of her hip, my thumb stroking back and forth in a slow, unconscious rhythm. The simple act of holding her like this filled me with bone-deep satisfaction that went beyond words. This was what mattered. Not the violence we'd survived, not the battles still to come, but this. Her heartbeat steady against mine. Her breath mixing with mine in the quiet space between us.
My eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment. I fought it briefly, wanting to stay awake, to watch over her. But my body had other ideas. The adrenaline that had sustained me through torture, through rage, through the desperate need to protect her burned away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.
"My mate," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if I said it aloud or only thought it as sleep pulled me under.
I awoke a few hours later, Jolie’s soft warm weight nestled against me. Sounds of cleanup drifted from outside. Tark barking orders, Binwee organizing the surviving slaves, hercurt tones carrying suggestions of how to handle the remaining Kwado rather bloodthirsty. I liked her already.
Distantly, another sound floated to my ears—laughter, bright and bubbly, unmistakably young. My heart squeezed tight in my chest, and I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face.
Lilibet.
I shifted carefully, not wanting to startle Jolie but needing to wake her. "Zeihava," I murmured softly, brushing my lips against her temple. "Wake up, my mate."
She stirred against me, making a small protesting sound, her hand tightening reflexively on my chest as if trying to hold onto sleep a little longer.
"Jolie," I said again, more urgently this time, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Lilibet's back."
Her eyes flew open immediately, all traces of drowsiness vanishing in an instant. "Lilibet?" She breathed, pushing herself upright, the blanket falling away. "She's here?"
"I can hear her," I confirmed, sitting up beside her. The laughter came again, closer now, accompanied by the sound of approaching footsteps and Numa's deeper voice saying something I couldn't quite make out.
Jolie's face transformed with pure, radiant joy. "We have to…." She looked down at herself, then at me. "Clothes. We need clothes."
I was already moving, swinging my legs off the bed and crossing to the cabinet where we stored the clean garments. I grabbed a simple tunic and trousers for myself, the fabric rough-spun but clean, smelling faintly of the soap they'd been washed in.
For Jolie, I found a soft dress in a pale-yellow color, the kind she favored for comfort and ease of movement. I helpedher slip it over her head as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to corral the waves.
"Here, let me," I said, running my fingers through her hair to smooth it into some semblance of order. It had dried wavy and wild. I loved the way it looked, like her hair somehow reflected the brave, bold female underneath.
She grabbed my face between her hands and kissed me quickly, fiercely. "Thank you. For…." Her voice caught. "For keeping her safe."
