11. The Cage of His Love #3
It felt endless, as though his body had been saving this for her alone, as though he could pour everything he was into her and still have more to give.
The soul-bind tightened with each spasm, wrapping around his chest like iron bands, squeezing the air from his lungs.
It was euphoric and terrifying all at once, the feeling of being bound tighter to her with every drop of his seed that filled her.
He could feel her through it, feel her pleasure echo back to him, amplifying his own until he couldn't tell where he ended and she began.
Her gasps subsided as the waves finally began to slow, but he could still feel the aftershocks rippling through him, he felt himself pulsing weakly inside her, oversensitive and spent.
He collapsed on top of her, both of them panting from their combined release.
Malec stayed, still hard, still connected, as he took his hands off her waist and threaded his fingers between hers.
He held her there, pinned beneath him, feeling her walls pulse and flutter as she rode the aftershocks.
Each contraction massaging his length, pulling soft groans from his throat.
He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in, and whispered her name like a prayer. "Allora."
Allora whimpered beneath him, her cheek pressed into the sheets, her body still quivering from the storm he had pulled her through. Her lashes fluttered as she tried to turn her head to see him, but he caught her jaw in his hand, holding her still, his lips brushing the curve of her ear.
“Do you feel it, liri?” His voice was hoarse, reverent, threaded with a darker edge.
"Do you feel me inside you… not only here...
" His hips pressed forward with a slow, deliberate thrust that made her gasp, their joining still wet and sensitive.
"But here." He placed his palm against her sternum, as if his touch could make her feel what he felt clawing inside his ribs.
Her breath came shaky, her body betraying her as it arched into him even as her mind screamed at her to resist. "Malec…" she whispered, the name torn between surrender and protest.
He cut her off, kissing the back of her neck, lingering, his lips hot against her damp skin. "There is no escape from this. You are mine, my wife. My soul and flesh." His voice dropped lower, reverberating against her skin like a vow sealed in fire.
Malec pulled himself from her, the sudden loss of her heat making him shiver.
Yet he could not stay away; in the next breath he found her side, dragging her against him as though the space between them was unbearable.
He positioned her so she lay atop his chest, her ear pressed above his heart.
His hand cupped the back of her head, knowing her soft, thick curls would catch his fingers if he tried to sweep through them.
Instead, he cradled her there, his palm warm against her scalp as his lips brushed her crown.
"I love you," he whispered into her curls, the words raw and reverent. "More than anything that has ever been. I know our start was rough, but we will find our rhythm in time. You will come to understand, my love. Your place is here. In my bed, my home, my life. The soul-bind is proof of it."
Allora's chest tightened. She felt it then, the weight of what she had been trying to ignore.
She had feelings for him. Real, complicated, terrifying feelings that made her hate herself a little more with every passing day.
Because it would be so easy to fall into this, to let herself believe that the bond was enough, that his love could somehow fill the gaping hole where her freedom used to be.
But it couldn't. And the fact that she wanted it to, that some traitorous part of her wished he could be different, made everything so much worse.
She lifted her head, dark eyes locking onto his with fierce defiance.
“Malec, listen to me. Actually listen.” Her voice shook, but she forced the words out anyway.
“What if I want more? What if I want to be more than just your other half?
Do I get a say in this at all? Or is this all I am to you—your bed bitch, your house whore? "
His expression darkened as if her words were a blade turned on him.
His grip on her waist tightened, his gaze fierce, unrelenting.
"You insult yourself," he said, his voice cutting low.
"There is no title greater than soulbound.
No honor higher than belonging to me. What else could you possibly want? "
"Agency!" The word burst from her, fierce and desperate. "Choice, Malec. The ability to decide my own life. To be seen as your equal, not your possession. I want you to look at me and see a partner, not an object you own."
He stared at her, confusion flickering across his features before his expression locked into place. "The bond makes us equals. We are two halves of one whole. That is partnership."
"No." She shook her head, her throat tight. "Partnership is mutual respect. It's listening when I tell you what I need, not telling me what I should want. It's trusting me to make my own decisions, not locking me up in a large luxurious manor with guards and calling it love."
"I have given you everything," he said, his voice rising with frustration. "My home, absolute protection, devotion I would never allow another to have. I have bound myself to you in ways no Awyan male would dare. What more do you require?"
"To be free!" Her voice cracked on the word. "...free to choose you, Malec. Why don't you understand, how many times do I have to spell this out for you? I can't love you the way you want when I'm your prisoner. Love doesn't thrive in captivity."
His jaw set, his light eyes alight with a feeling that couldn't decide between hurt and defiance. "The soul-bind chose us, destiny bound us together. That is what matters. Not your Canariae notions of freedom or choice. We are meant to be together, Allora. That truth supersedes everything else."
She stared at him, her chest rising fast, her throat tight with the ache of disappointment.
He had poured his heart into her, yes, but not in the way she needed, not in a way that saw her for more than his possession.
He heard her words but he didn't listen.
He couldn't. His mind was locked in that stupid, rigid framework of Awyan tradition, too convinced that the bond was answer enough to every question she asked.
And in that moment, she reminded herself with brutal clarity: this would never work. He would never see her as an equal. He would never understand that ownership, no matter how loving, was still a prison to her. And it was all the reminder she needed that leaving him was the only way forward.
As she lay back against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek, she made her silent vow.
She had feelings for him, yes. Maybe she even loved him in some twisted, broken way but she loved herself more.
And she refused to tie herself to a life of misery with a dominant Awyan who, no matter how good the sex was, would never let her own herself.
And that this would be the last time he would ever be inside her.