Page 40 of Pocket Wife

“Only if you still choose this. Choose me freely.”

“I choose this. I choose you, Rethan.”

I push forward, sinking into her tight, wet heat inch by inch. Lucy gasps sharply, nails digging into my shoulders as I stretch and fill her completely. The bond flares white-hot between us, every sensation doubled. I hold still a long moment, letting her adjust, then begin to move—long, deep strokes that gradually increase in intensity.

“You feel incredible,” I groan, voice rough. I grip her hip with one hand, bracing the other beside her head as I thrust harder. Our bodies move in perfect rhythm, skin slapping against skin. Lucy rises to meet every thrust, legs wrapped tightly around my waist.

“Harder,” she demands breathlessly.

I oblige, driving into her with powerful strokes. The shelter fills with the wet sounds of our joining, her moans, and my low groans. The patterns across my skin illuminate her face, highlighting every expression of pleasure. I lean down to kiss her fiercely, tongues tangling as I pound deeper.

Pleasure builds rapidly through the bond. I can feel her tightening around me, her climax approaching. I angle my hips to hit the perfect spot with every thrust.

“Now—Rethan, now⁠—”

Her orgasm hits hard. She cries out, clenching rhythmically around my cock, body shaking beneath me. The intense contractions pull me over the edge. I bury myself to the hilt and come with a deep, guttural groan, pulsing thickly inside her as waves of ecstasy crash through us both.

We stay locked together for a long time afterward, breathing ragged. I carefully lower myself beside her and pull her into my arms, mindful of her injuries. I press soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips.

Lucy traces the glowing patterns across my chest with lazy fingers. “That was… not what I expected from a legal historian.”

“I possess many skills not listed in my official files,” I reply, a faint note of dryness in my voice.

She laughs softly against my skin. “You really are terrible at comfort.”

“I was not attempting comfort. I was attempting to remind you that you are alive, wanted, and no longer facing this fight alone.”

Lucy lifts her head. The warmth and affection in her eyes makes my chest tighten. “You’re doing more than fine, Scholar.”

We dress slowly in the dim lantern light, exchanging quiet touches and lingering glances. Lucy winces as she pulls on her trousers. I note the bruises with renewed resolve. I help her with her boots, then hand her the evidence case.

“Together?” she asks.

I take her free hand firmly in mine. “Together.”

We step out of the shelter into the gray dawn light. The wrecked crawler lies behind us in the ravine. Ahead, the ridge rises toward Westline and whatever awaits us there. With Lucy’s hand in mine and the bond warm and steady between us, I feel prepared for anything.

CHAPTER 17

LUCY

The first family takes the money before noon.

By then, I’ve been home from Westline for less than six hours, though home no longer feels like the word it did yesterday. My clothes still carry dust from the ridge road. A bruise pulls along my side each time I move too quickly. The shelter, the storm, Rethan’s hands, and the blue light beneath his skin live under my thoughts no matter how fiercely I try to focus.

Westline did not give us answers cleanly.

Helix reached the depot first. The main survey racks were stripped, the floor safe forced open, the old coordinate plates gone from every labeled drawer. But they missed one thing: a scorched backing sheet wedged behind a collapsed wall panel, marked with the first translation of Solaris Valley’s local names into regional survey code.

Not enough to end the fight.

Enough to prove the fight has a shape.

Rethan sealed it, photographed the empty racks, and said very little on the walk back. I said even less. There are survey fragments to sort, families to call, and no time to wonder what it means to be chosen by a man whose life could stretch far beyond mine.

So naturally, my mind keeps returning to it.

The meeting hall is crowded by midday, but not with the steady anger I expected. People stand in clumps instead of rows. Neighbors avoid neighbors. The valley still stands together, but not as tightly as it did yesterday.