Chapter 11 #2
The words released him. He entered her slowly, carefully, giving her body time to adjust to the fullness. The mounds she’d stroked pulsed against her inner walls, creating friction and pleasure in equal measure. She gasped at the sensation, at the strange rightness of having him inside her.
“Breathe,” he commanded softly, holding still despite the tremor running through him. “Let your body accept mine.”
She focused on her breathing, on relaxing into the stretch and burn. The Valenmark flared between them, and suddenly the discomfort eased. Warmth flooded through her, the mark somehow smoothing the way, making space where there had been resistance.
“Better?” His voice was strained.
“Yes. Move. Please move.”
He pulled back and thrust forward, setting a rhythm that started slow and built to something primal. Every stroke hit deeper, the mounds along his length creating sensations she’d never imagined. The marks on their wrists blazed brighter with each movement, pulsing in perfect synchronization.
Outside the ship, the planet responded. Lume chirped from somewhere in the cabin, her glow brightening. Through the viewport, the forest’s bioluminescence intensified, colors shifting and flowing in waves that matched their rhythm. The world was listening again, and this time it sang with them.
Emmy wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him deeper, meeting each thrust with her own rising need. His restraint frayed further, movements becoming less measured, more desperate. He buried his face in her neck, teeth grazing her skin, the sharp edge of his canines scraping against her pulse.
“Mark me,” she gasped, not fully understanding the request but knowing it was right. “I want everyone to know I’m yours.”
He groaned, a sound of surrender and possession tangled together. His teeth pressed against her throat—not breaking skin, but leaving an impression that would fade to a visible mark. The claiming sent her spiraling higher, pleasure coiling tighter in her core.
“Apex— I’m—”
“Let go,” he commanded. “I have you.”
She came apart in his arms, the orgasm rolling through her in waves that seemed to sync with the planet’s pulse.
The Valenmark exploded with light, so bright she could see it through her closed eyelids.
He followed moments later, his body going rigid as he spilled inside her, her name a broken prayer on his lips.
They stayed locked together, breathing hard, hearts thundering in unison. The marks on their wrists gradually dimmed from white-hot to a warm, steady golden glow. Outside, the planet’s light settled back into its usual rhythm, as if satisfied.
He lifted his head to look at her, and what she saw in his eyes made her throat tight. Not just satisfaction or relief, but something deeper. Recognition. Belonging.
“Mine,” he said softly, brushing hair from her face.
“Yours,” she agreed, then added with a smile, “And you’re mine.”
“Affirmative.” He kissed her gently, a contrast to the fierce possession of moments before. “Always.”
He shifted to move away but she tightened her legs, keeping him close. “Not yet.”
A small smile curved his mouth—rare and precious. “As you wish.”
They lay tangled together in the narrow space, the ship humming around them like a satisfied cat.
Eventually he did ease away, but only to pull her against his side, one arm wrapped protectively around her.
She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing.
“The planet approved,” she murmured sleepily.
“It did.” His fingers traced lazy patterns on her shoulder. “As did I.”
She huffed a laugh. “High praise from Lord Kael Vettar.”
“The highest,” he said seriously, then added in a lower tone, “Sleep now. I will keep watch.”
“You should sleep too.”
“Later.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “For now, let me have this—holding you while you rest. It is enough.”
She wanted to argue, but exhaustion pulled at her, the aftermath of terror and pleasure and emotion leaving her boneless. The last thing she experienced before sleep claimed her was the steady pulse of the Valenmark, beating in perfect rhythm with his heart.
Hours later, she woke to quiet and the low light of the instruments washing the cabin in soft color.
Apex lay where she’d left him. He hadn’t moved except to set a thermal wrap over her knees.
The wrap held a ribbon of heat that kept her sheltered.
She lifted her head and watched him for a few breaths.
There was a kind of peace in his stillness that no one would ever accuse him of having.
“How long was I out?”
“Two cycles.”
“Any movement from the cruiser?”
“Minimal course corrections,” Core said. “No scan sweeps directed at our vector. The memorial broadcast begins in one and a half cycles.”
Apex did not take his eyes off the stars. “Good.”
She rubbed her hand over her face and sat up. The wrap slid and pooled at her waist. His gaze flicked down and returned with the kind of reaction that made heat lick low in her belly.
“I’d like to get something like Earth coffee,” she said. “It’s a hot caffeinated drink we consume in the morning. Do you have anything similar?”
“Affirmative. Brumo.”
“Would you like some, too?”
“Affirmative.”
Not bothering to dress, she made two cups and brought them back.
He took his without looking away from the window.
He didn’t drink. He held the cup against his palm like a mark of habit.
She sipped hers and discovered it was surprisingly similar to coffee, if slightly thicker.
She let the bitterness bring her all the way awake.
“When we jump,” she said, “where do we go?”
“Not far at first. We keep the lie intact. If they believe we died here, they will not search where ghosts drift. We will move to the shadow of the outer moon and ride debris until the memorial completes. Then we burn.”
“To where?”
“To what is mine,” he said. “And to anyone the Council would punish for knowing me.”
The answer was clear. “Your unit.”
“If the Council has touched any of them, I will know.” He looked at her, and the look was a promise. “I will not permit it.”
She set her cup down because her hand had started to shake again. She didn’t try to hide it. He saw too much for that to work. The heat in his eyes softened by a margin more intimate than a kiss.
She whispered, “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me for keeping what is mine.” He tipped his head. “Sit closer.”
She stared. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
The line should have annoyed her. It didn’t.
She shifted her chair an inch. He made a quiet sound that might have been satisfaction.
She shifted another inch and their arms almost touched.
He didn’t move away. The hum of the engines were deeper here, the stars closer.
The line between fear and hunger blurred until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“Drift window ends shortly,” Core said. “Debris shadow will no longer conceal our heat signature.”
Apex set his untouched cup in the holder. “Get dressed and strap in.”
She hastily pulled on clothes and buckled down, setting her hands on the armrests. The ship woke from its glide like an animal rousing. Apex’s hands settled on the controls with that same promise. He glanced at her once. The look slid under her skin and stayed.
The engines deepened. Starlight stretched.
Echo Light fell behind until the wounded crescent blurred to nothing.
Emmy kept her eyes forward. The future narrowed to a line of light that ran straight through him.
The fear came back and settled under her ribs.
Something bigger than fear stood next to it and refused to move.
She said it out loud so the ship would hear and the stars would hear and he would hear. “We’re not finished.”