Chapter 14
SANTIAGO
Santi lay sprawled naked across the long sofa, the back of his hand resting on his forehead, chest rising with the slow, heavy rhythm of satiation.
His skin still thrummed, his pulse settling into a steady cadence.
Beside him, Soleil curled into his side, one bare thigh draped possessively over his, the swell of her breast pressing against his ribs as she sighed.
Her lips, soft, wet, dazed, curved into the ghost of a smile as their gazes met and lingered.
He stared at her like she was a star fallen before him and didn’t know it yet.
Fokk, she was astounding.
He sensed their incredible connection; the inevitable soul-to-soul knotting, as the spectral lycan spirit within him growled with pleasure.
They were fated.
It was evident in her eyes, in her silences, in the sacred way she held him, in the incandescent detonation of bliss they shared.
There was a preciousness to their lovemaking, a spiritual incandescence where a beauty most holy was born.
What he was experiencing was not just a physical release; it was a profound emotional revelation that this woman was always meant to be his.
He leaned down and kissed her again, long and slow, his hand stroking her hair, their mouths moving like tides drawn to the same moon.
She responded, fingers tangling behind his neck, a lazy, sweet hum against his lips.
They parted breathlessly, noses brushing.
‘Where have you been all my life?’
She smiled and deflected. ‘Not here obviously.’
‘Nada, really. Where are you from, Soleil? What’s your story?’
She shrugged, her eyes clouding over. ‘Nowhere, and I’m sure my boring past is not what we should be discussing now. It’ll dampen the mood.’
With a slight growl, she reached for him and made him forget, her tongue flicking his, almost making him weep.
‘I could kiss you forever,’ he murmured many minutes later. ‘But we both need a shower.’ A wry grin tugged at his mouth. ‘Apart.’
Her lashes fluttered. ‘Agreed.’
‘Not because I don’t want to shower with you, carino,’ he added, his sapphire eyes sweeping over her, ‘but because I’ll lose all restraint if I do.’
She chuckled, smiling, and slid her leg away from his, the absence jolting his body with a traitorous ache.
He stood and reached for her hand to help her up. She came willingly, their fingers brushing, a hush of delight in their smiles.
Together, they gathered their scattered clothes from the floor.
When she padded toward her guest room, she glanced back once.
He tapped her ass, and she gasped, escaping him with a laugh as they disappeared behind separate doors.
In the steamy solace of the shower, Santi leaned his hands against the tiles, head bowed under the hot spray.
The water cascaded down his muscled back, but it did little to cool the wildfire still licking his skin.
He had been touched by the sacred tonight, got undone by it.
Fokk, he wanted more.
Not just of her body, but of herself: her humor, her quiet strength, her secrets and sharpness, the way she saw straight through his swagger to the vulnerable man beneath.
He’d never felt this deep, nor this savage, for a woman.
His soul had never belonged to anyone in recent years.
He now sensed that it had a home, with her, and her light and sun radiance.
The kitchen was redolent with the scent of garlic and simmering spices, the flickering candles casting golden shadows across the smooth slate countertop.
Santi made dinner: seared fish in a peppered glaze, roasted root vegetables, and a citrus salad flavored with a yuzu dressing that woke the senses.
Soleil savored every bite, smiling at his casual culinary finesse.
Later, they sat side by side on the divan where they had made love, engrossed in a moody drama unfolding in slow, melancholic dialogue.
Halfway through, Santi rose poured them an apéritif, citrusy and herbal, with just the right kick and finish.
As they sipped, the film faded into the background as they slid into conversation.
They discussed books, shifting to debates over interplanetary trade wars, the pirate-led chaos in the Wildlight flotilla, and its fractured council’s attempts to bring order.
‘You’re a wonder, Soleil,’ Santi mused at some point. ‘A Cleaner extraordinaire, well-versed in political gameplay. What else are you hiding from me?’
She blinked, and a dark cloud passed over her eyes before a smile curved her lush lips. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
Again with the fob-offs and mysterious hints at a former life she wasn’t ready to discuss.
He made a note of it but set his disquiet aside.
Perhaps when she trusted him more, she’d share.
He flipped the topic to food, coaxing a slow grin from her when he confessed his irrational hatred of blue algae noodles.
‘I loathed sharing rations with my cousins. We didn’t have much, so when we got fruit or candy, we hid it under our pillows and slept with one eye open. I lived with my grandmother after my parents died in the nuclear wars, and all she could cook was these freakin’ noodles.’
She chuckled, her voice softening with memory.
‘Where are your parents?’ he rasped.
She blinked once, then offered a quiet shrug. ‘My mother’s dead. My father is estranged. That’s the word for it, right?’
He nodded, studying her.
She’d given him nothing, no names, no locations, no crumbs to follow: just soft smoke screens and ghostly silhouettes.
Not wanting to deal with reality just yet, he let it drop.
Instead, he leaned in until their mouths met again, warm, lingering, drugged with affection.
Her fingers curled into his shirt.
When they parted, he kept his forehead against hers and grunted, ‘Are you ready for more?’
Her eyes searched his, unreadable. ‘What does more mean?’
‘Sleeping in my arms,’ he rasped, his timbre raw and roughened, ‘in my bed. Every fokkin’ night.’
‘Are you asking me to move in with you, Santiago Alvarro?’
‘Naam,’ he rumbled, meaning it from the bottom of his heart, surprising himself with how fast he wanted to lock her down as his.
Her lashes lowered, but her breath stayed steady.
‘I might need some time to think about it.’
He studied her, the dip of her throat, the guarded strength in her voice.
‘Bueno,’ he murmured, brushing a finger against her jaw. ‘I’ll give you time.’
In the quiet that followed, it was not disappointment that hovered between them, but promise.
SOLEIL
That night, they slept apart once more, in their separate bedrooms.
However, rest evaded Soleil like a shadow slipping just out of reach.
Her sheets tangled around her legs, sweat beading along her hairline despite the cool lake air.
Guilt churned in her gut like a restless tide, shame for what she was hiding, and aching yearning for what she wanted from Santi.
Her wrists throbbed.
She hissed, clutching them to her chest, her inhale snagging as agony speared up her arms like white-hot needles.
Vern.
That bastard.
He was sending pain pings through the embedded wrist cuff, reminding her who she worked for.
‘Fokk you,’ she muttered under her breath, teeth gritted as the last wave ebbed, leaving her clammy and shaking.
Her remorse turned to fury.
Then terror struck as she realized she was walking a thin, tightrope.
Caught between her enforcers who owned her, and the man she so wanted to explore a future with.
At the thought of Santi, her soul convulsed, and a surge of craving for him hit hard.
It wasn’t just her body and her desire for him calling out now.
It was the desperate need for safety, for his strength and sanity when her own was fraying at the edges.
She sat up and glanced at the chrono. It read just past 0100 hours.
Still, the pull to him overrode all her hesitation.
She slid out of bed in bare feet and padded to the hallway, with Santi’s guest robe wrapped around her.
The light from the terrace cast a long beam across the cabin corridor as she reached his door.
It was ajar, as if waiting for her.
Her fingers scarcely pushed, and the door gave way with a sigh.
Santi lay on his side, the sheet tangled over his hips.
Revealing the vast plane of his back, the sloping muscle of his shoulders.
Also, the ink that marked him, wolf fangs across the shoulder blades, ethereal claw sigils trailing down his ribs.
His dark hair fell over his temple, mussed, and below, the curve of his jaw was shadowed with stubble. Even in sleep, his presence throbbed through the room.
He moved onto his back in a roll of ligament and sinew, and as he did, a ripple of violet energy burst from his chest like lightning.
Soleil gasped, stepping back.
The glowing force coalesced above him, folding and shifting until a spectral dire wolf materialized in the air, fangs bared, its fur crackling with aetheric fire.
Its eyes glowed as it lowered its head and fixed her with an ancient, primal gaze.
His guardian lycan spirit.
Its eyes scanned her, and it howled in a silent snarl, as if finding her wanting.
Soleil’s heart leapt.
She took a step back, ready to bolt, when the entity snapped out of existence, and Santi knifed up in bed.
His eyes locked onto her, piercing and glowing in the dark.
‘Carino?’
His timbre was gravelly, sultry, and rough with sleep.
She froze.
‘I, ' She stammered, still half in fight-or-flight. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -.’
‘What do you need?’ he rasped, his head tipping to her, sensing her distress.
She took a shaky step back. ‘I, I shouldn’t have come.’
‘Nada, woman,’ he growled. ‘You came here for a reason. What do you want?’
The question pulsed through the room, through her ribs and spine.
Her throat tightened.
I need you.
The words danced on the tip of her tongue, but instead she said, ‘I’ll tell you what I don’t need and that’s time.’
Santi straightened against the headboard, the sheet slipping further down his hips.
Another pulse of violet shimmer coiled around his torso, glowing along the ink on his chest.
His eyes burned in the dim room.
‘Is that right?’ he drawled, voice like gravel catching fire. ‘What changed your mind? Or rather, what sped you up?’