Like my body was waiting for this exact shape inside of it, this exact moment of being held in place with nowhere to go.
Varek follows with a low, guttural sound, his release driving deep, each pulse grounding me further, keeping me exactly where he wants me—where Ican’tleave.
Nor do I want to.
My arms give out.
He’s already there, catching me, sitting up and holding me upright like I weigh nothing, one arm locked around me as if the rest of the world has stopped mattering.
His mouth presses warm against my neck, breath rough and controlled—but there’s something else in it now. Something heavier.
Claiming.
Final.
The bond between us flares—low and steady andcompletein a way it wasn’t before—and it hits me all at once.
We’re stuck like this.
Connected.
Held.
And for the first time since this started, sinceanyof this started, I don’t fight it.
It’s… fuck…
It’s perfect.
I’m breathing hard, shaking, tears slipping loose without permission.
He wipes them away, slow and deliberate. “Breathe out, my mate.”
I do as he says. Instantly. Because when he sounds like that—steady and certain—I know I always will.
The bond hums between us as I blink, completely spent.
Everything eases slowly, and though it’s not all at once, it’s just enough to feel him still there, still holding me, still comforting me. He shifts us carefully, adjusting the furs, never letting go, like it’s not even an option.
I let my head drop against him, exhausted. “If you tell anyone I cried,” I mutter, voice wrecked, “I’ll deny it.”
A pause. Then, softer, against my hair, he says, “Of course.”
The bond warms.
Traitor.
VAREK
Pax sleeps heavily.
He is sprawled across me in a way that would be inconvenient under any other circumstance, one leg thrown over mine, his weight settled fully against my chest as though he has decided I am both mattress and anchor. His breathing is deep and even, his body finally at rest after everything we have done to each other over the past two days.
I do not move.
I have no desire to.
His warmth seeps into me, steady and grounding, the bond between us settled into something quiet and complete. It no longer strains or aches or demands. It exists. Solid. Certain. Mine.
