"Ready?" he asks.
"Yes." I reach down to help guide him, my hand wrapping around the considerable length of him, and he hisses through his teeth at the contact. "Yes, I'm ready, I need?—"
He presses forward, and the stretch is unlike anything I've experienced before—a slow, relentless pressure that makes my breath catch and my fingers scrabble against his shoulders for purchase. He's impossibly large, and every inch feels like a revelation, like my body is being remapped around the reality of him. He moves with excruciating slowness, giving me time to adjust, to breathe, to accept him, and by the time he's fully seated I feel hollowed out and remade in equal measure.
"Cypress." My name sounds wrecked on his tongue, broken and desperate. "Are you?—"
"Move." I rock my hips against him, the motion sending sparks cascading up my spine. "Knox, please, you need to move?—"
He does. Carefully at first, the restraint still visible in the tension of his jaw and the way his hands grip the sheets on either side of my head like he's trying to anchor himself. But I don't want careful, don't want restrained, not after everything we've survived together. I dig my nails into his back and bite down on his shoulder and tell him exactly what I want in language that would make my grandmother faint, and gradually—finally—he gives it to me.
The rhythm builds between us like music, like mathematics, like the inevitable progression of a proof toward its conclusion. His hips snap against mine and I match him as best I can, wrapping myself around him, taking everything he gives and demanding more. He growls praise against my skin between kisses, calling me brilliant and brave and his, his, his, and each repetition of that possessive claim sends another pulse of heat through my already overwhelmed system.
"Close," I gasp, feeling the tension coiling tighter in my core. "Knox, I'm close?—"
"I know." His thumb finds my clit again, pressing and circling with devastating precision. "I can feel you, Cypress. I can feel how ready you are. Come for me. Come apart in my arms and let me catch you."
The second orgasm shatters me completely, blanking out the world in a white rush of sensation. Distantly, Knox roars something in a language I don't speak, and his entire body goes rigid above me as he follows me over the edge. We hang there together in that suspended moment, connected and complete,and then we collapse into each other like two stars finally succumbing to their own gravity.
I don't remember fallingasleep, but I must have, because I wake slowly to the feeling of gentle fingers moving through my hair. Morning light streams through the uncovered windows, painting everything in gold and rose, and Knox's body curls protectively around mine like a living fortress.
"You are awake." Not a question. His fingers continue their movement through my hair, separating strands, weaving patterns I can't see. "I hoped you would sleep longer. You need rest."
"So do you." I turn in his arms, which is no small feat given the size differential, and find his face soft with something that looks remarkably like contentment. "What are you doing?"
"A braid." He shows me the small section of hair he's been working on, a complex pattern of tiny plaits that runs along my temple and curves behind my ear. "If you will permit me to finish."
"I didn't know you knew how to braid." I settle back against him, curious rather than alarmed. "Is this an orc thing?"
"A very old orc thing." His fingers resume their work, gentle and deft despite their size. "In my grandmother's time, warriors would braid the hair of their... there is not a good translation. Partner? Mate? The word in Orcish encompasses many things. Lover, yes, but also ally. Protector. The one whose battles you claim as your own."
My throat goes tight. "Knox..."
"The braid is a declaration. It tells the world that you are under my protection. That anyone who threatens you answers to me. That I have chosen you, and you have chosen me, and nothing will come between us." He pauses, and I feel his breathcatch. "If that is... if you do not wish to wear my claim, I can remove it. I should have asked first. Among my people, the offer of a braid is the offer of a lifetime, and I?—"
I reach back to cover his hand with mine, stopping the nervous flow of words. "Finish the braid, Knox."
"You are certain?"
"I am certain." I twist to look at him, meeting his amber eyes with all the certainty I feel. "Finish your claim. Let the world know I'm yours."
The smile that breaks across his face is brilliant, transformative, making him look younger and happier than I've ever seen him. He kisses me softly, reverently, and then turns me back around so he can complete his work. His fingers move with increased confidence now, weaving the strands together in patterns that feel like promises, and by the time he ties off the end with a small silver clasp, I feel like I've been wrapped in armor more protective than any steel.
"There." He kisses the spot just below the finished braid. "Now no one can mistake who you belong to."
"Or who you belong to," I counter, turning to face him fully. "That's how this works, right? The claim goes both ways?"
"The claim goes both ways. Always."
We dressfor battle in matching power suits—his charcoal gray with a deep green shirt that brings out his skin tone, mine a sharp black with a crimson blouse that makes me feel like a warrior queen. The braid behind my ear glints silver in the morning light, visible enough to be noticed, subtle enough to demand questions. Knox can't stop staring at it, his eyes tracking to that small mark of ownership every few seconds.
"The evidence," I say, patting the leather satchel slung across my body. "Copies have already been sent to our lawyers, to theSEC, and to three different journalists who are very interested in taking Hoffstead down."
"And the originals?"
"In this bag, going with us to the board meeting." I check my reflection one more time, adjusting the collar of my blouse. "We present the evidence, we call for an emergency vote, we end this."
Knox offers me his arm with courtly formality. "Shall we go conquer our enemies, my valkyrie?"
