She came with a sound like a sob, trembling against him, her body locking tight as if even her soul couldn’t bear the intensity of what he gave her. And through it all he held her. Moved with her. Murmured her name into her skin. With a quiet groan, he found his own end, shuddering hard as he pressed his forehead to her shoulder, his breath staggering, his fingers still wrapped around hers.
Nestled against her from behind, Resh brushed her damp hair aside and pressed a kiss to the curve where her shoulder met her neck. Her skin was flushed, radiant with residual pleasure, and he couldn’t help himself.
He let his lips linger. Then he parted them and grazed her skin with his teeth.
Auryn startled, a soft gasp slipping from her mouth as his bite sank in—not hard enough to break the skin, but deep enough to mark.
Her breath snagged. “Kail…?”
“Forgive me,” he murmured, though he wasn’t repentant in the least. “I had to. You felt…” He exhaled, breath shaky. “Mine.”
Her fingers tightened in his. “Did you mean to leave a mark?”
He kissed the spot again. “It’ll fade. Already healing, I imagine.”
She turned her head to look back at him. Her eyes were shining.
“I wish it wouldn’t,” she whispered with a smile. “I want to keep you on my skin.”
The air was thick with warmth and the lingering perfume of oils. The cot creaked as Kailorien rose, the sound of leather straps and buckles breaking the hush. He unfastened each piece with care—pauldrons, bracers, the waist harness—laying them aside in sacred silence, like one might disarm before a temple altar.
Auryn stirred on the bed, her cheeks flushed, a soft hum in her throat.
He crossed to her and bent low. “Come,” he murmured, his voice like velvet dusk. “We’ll finish what you started. Properly, this time.”
She made a sleepy sound of protest as he gathered her into his arms but didn’t resist. Her limbs melted against him, her head nestled under his jaw.
The water welcomed them in a rush of steam. Kailorien settled first, drawing her onto his lap, chest to chest, arms around her. She adjusted, blinking up at him with dazed eyes.
“It’s gone lukewarm,” she mumbled, brow furrowed.
He chuckled. “Then let me show you how to warm it safely.”
Her gaze drifted to his hand as he guided it through the air, his voice low and instructive.
“You see the shape?” He traced it against the surface, and then against her forearm. “Not just a flick—it’s a pull. A coaxing. You invite the heat,not command it.”
Her fingers trembled as she tried, so he placed his palm over hers and helped her draw it again—slow, patient, skin brushing skin.
Warmth bloomed in the water. The steam rose thicker now, curling lazily into the air. Her hand slackened beneath his.
“Kailorien…” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
But she was already asleep.
He exhaled and leaned back against the stone basin, cradling her against his chest, his hand still cupped over hers.
He rested his chin atop her damp hair, listening to the soft breaths she made in sleep. He stroked his thumb along her knuckles, the faint pulse of her magic brushing his skin like a promise. And as the heat settled around them, he admitted that surrendering had never felt so right.
23
Zarrek’s Watch
Zarrek stood near the edge of the Commander’s tent, arms folded, watching the world quiet down. Tonight, the Resh’Agar would sleep. It meant his Second would stand here all night. Watching. Waiting. Battleaxe primed. Ready, in case of the worst.
He mentally ticked off everything he’d wanted done that day. Drills, patrols, ration schedules, and checking in on the forge masters to ensure they had what they needed to fix wagon wheels and armaments.
