Chapter 17 #2
The lake outside shimmered through the transparent wall panels, wind-kissed and silver in the artificial night.
He stopped at the open door, freezing at the sight of an ethereal silhouette.
She was bathed in starlight, barefoot and bare-legged, arms wrapped around her waist like she was holding her insides together.
Her hair drifted over her face, whipped by a warm wind.
She was shaking, not from any cold, for the ambient temperature was moderate.
Nada, her shuddering came from within.
He stepped behind her, his heat rolling forward like a tide, and encircled her within his muscled arms.
Her body jerked, then sagged into him.
His sinewed warmth blanketed her trembling form, steady and anchoring. He buried his face in her nape and whispered, ‘?Qué pasa, mi sol?’
She didn’t speak, only turned slowly in his embrace and pressed her face into the middle of his chest. Seeking the rhythm of his heart like it was the only music that could soothe her.
His hand slid up and down her spine, calming her, drawing the chill from her bones.
‘My wolf spirit thought you were being harmed,’ he murmured. ‘That someone was hurting you.’
She shuddered harder as if caught in the fight of her life.
‘Was it a nightmare?’
She tilted her face up toward him, and the expression in her eyes made his breath catch.
‘Naam,’ she whispered. ‘The very worst.’
He held her tighter, his hand curling over the back of her head. ‘Anything you want to share?’
Her lips parted, but Soleil shook her head.
Santi stilled. His jaw locked tight. A thread of fire flickered in his gut.
She was hiding something from him.
Still.
He said nothing. Instead, he inclined and pressed a kiss to one eyelid. Then the other. Her lashes fluttered as she appeared to blink tears away.
He made the only offer he could at this late hour.
‘Let me hold you and take it all away, carino.’
He bent, swept her into his arms, and carried her back into his bed.
As he lowered her to the sheets and slid beside her, he curled his body around hers.
His breath slowed into rhythmic cadence, his embrace a shield between her and whatever darkness pursued her.
She nestled into his chest, and together they lay suspended in the hush before dawn, his storm, and her silence.
SOLEIL
The next few days unfolded like a fragile dream Soleil was too afraid to wake from.
Every morning, they slept later than they should, tangled in each other’s limbs, the soft hum of the ship rocking them deeper into the illusion of safety.
She would stir to find him already awake, violet gilded eyes hooded with warmth, a smirk curving his mouth.
Without a word, he would pull her atop him, his favorite way to start the day.
She would follow, gliding her hips over him, sliding his cock into her slippery folds.
Throwing her head back, she sank onto him, her pelvis swirling.
Until their bodies moved in sync, their mouths fused in slow, lazy kisses.
He liked her like that, straddling his lap as he leaned against the headboard, his hands firm on her pelvis, guiding her with a patience that melted her heart.
He kissed her like a starving man tasting fruit for the first time, grateful, and freakin’ insatiable.
When they came together, his shaft splashing white hot cum into her, they cried out.
Lost in ecstasy, collapsing onto each other with harsh breaths.
When they finally rose, flushed and breathless, he padded barefoot into the kitchen to make kahawa while she toasted bread and cracked synth-eggs into a pan.
Sometimes he’d slide behind her, kissing her neck as she stirred the pot; other times, he just eyed her with that slow, quiet smile, arms crossed, in just shorts, still radiating the heat of their shared bed.
They ate on the terrace, beneath the Sombra’s stars flickering on the simulated dome above them, the lake glimmering silver and blue like moonstone glass.
She sat cross-legged on his lap, his chin resting on her shoulder, her plate balanced in one hand while he fed her bites with the other.
He liked feeding her, whether to feel needed or connected, she wasn’t sure.
Most mornings, they didn’t speak much. They didn’t need to. It was enough to exist beside him in peace.
Oddly, her wrists stopped hurting.
No burning pulses, no searing jolts to knock her breathless.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, the shadow of Vern’s control lifted.
She prayed it stayed that way.
Evenings were her favorite.
Sometimes he got home before she did.
When he did, he’d strip out of his uniform, shower, and change into a tee and loose pants.
She’d find him in the kitchen, humming, hair damp from a rinse as he whizzed up, everything from a garlic-flavored seafood stew to salmon with pan-seared greens.
Other times, he kept it simple, tossing fresh vegetables from the lake with spices and noodles.
Soleil found that Santi was a rare, neat cook.
He washed every plate and cutting board, even the pots, as he went.
He grumbled when she tried to help, pulling her to the counter instead, stealing kisses along her neck as the food simmered on the stove.
They bathed together in long, quiet soaks where he pulled her between his thighs, gliding a washcloth over each inch of her with slow, unhurried veneration.
Showers, on the other hand, were rushed and hungry, hands slipping against wet tile, mouths colliding, steam rising with their heat.
He always whispered to her in those moments. My flame, my sun.
As if trying to brand the words onto her skin.
At night, they collapsed into bed, limp and sated, her head on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear, his arms wrapped around her like a fortress.
Still in those days, those honey-soaked, star-drenched hours, she allowed herself to believe that maybe this was what forever could feel like.
She let herself want it, even though she was wiser and more jaded to the truth.