30. Chapter 30 #2
A hollow where her hum should have been. I devoured her mouth again—deeper, rougher—searching for the familiar feeling of her.
Nothing.
She grunted in frustration. Her fingers clenched in my hair like she could drag the missing current out of me by force.
Panic flashed across her face—gone in a blink, replaced by stubborn need.
"Command me," she urged. "Give me something I can feel."
I hooked my arm under her knee, spreading her wider until she was vulnerable to whatever I gave her.
I wanted her to feel the sensation of being overpowered because it was the only thing loud enough to drown out the silence of the suppressor cuffs.
One arm braced her against the bark while I tore at my own laces with the other.
“I need you now. I'm going to take you hard. I need to feel you are alive and safe. Nod if you understand.”
She nodded and I let out a vicious growl.
I ripped the fabric away and drove into her in one ruthless, punishing thrust, sheathing myself to the hilt.
She let out a ravenous deep moan. My fangs extended and I latched on to her neck above the bruises and pounded her into the tree with all my strength. She screamed in relief, in grief. And in ecstasy.
The tightness and fullness of her was almost unbearable, a physical pressure that should have been accompanied by a roar in my blood.
Instead, there was only the cold, mocking iron silence.
I was finally where I had dreamed of being, sheathed in her fevered core, but I was still a monster starving at a feast.
Tears filled my eyes as I thrust over and over, searching for the echo that wasn't there. Her heat felt almost white hot, a searing contrast to the cold iron at our wrists. She melted beneath me, her cunt clenching around me in convulsive spasms. I could feel them grip me, milk me, pull me deeper.
She moaned—raw, furious.
I caught her mouth again, swallowing it like a vow.
Still no song of our bond. So I made one.
I nipped her lower lip and then moved to the tender underside of her jaw, using my teeth to increase the pressure until she let out a throaty moan.
I pulled back a fraction, my weight flattened her against the rough bark so I could simply enjoy the sight of her. Her lips were swollen from my kisses, her eyes slumbrous and shattered as she looked back at me.
I dropped my gaze to the scar on her sternum—the white, ragged scar where my father had severed our bond. I had wanted to trace it with my tongue, to rewrite its meaning with my mouth.
I slowed my thrust to a rhythm that felt like a lullaby, her deep moans turning into long slow releases.
My fingers found the ridged white line, tracing it with featherlight touches. Her eyes fluttered.
I lowered my head, my mouth finally finding the mark of our severance. I kissed the scar—soft, reverent, and then with enough fire to burn through the memory of the blade.
She sighed, tipped her head back, and tilted her hips up harder into my cock. Consuming it.
I groaned, my fingers digging into the swell of her ass as I pulled her away from the tree.
She made a sound of protest—half-growl, half-loss—at the bark leaving her back, at losing something solid to brace against. I swallowed it with my mouth.
"I've got you."
I carried her through the ruined clearing. Still buried inside her. Her legs locked around my waist, her arms around my neck, her breath hot and ragged against my throat. Each step shifted me deeper. Each step drew another broken sound from her lips.
The patch of moss waited in the moonlight—soft, dark, the only gentle thing in this forest.
I lowered her onto it. Let her back sink into the softness. Let her feel the thing that would hold her while I took her apart.
Her hair spread across the green like spilled ink. Her eyes found mine.
I stayed there for a moment. Hovering over her. Still inside her. Watching her chest rise and fall beneath the armor we couldn't remove.
Mine.
The metal of our chest plates collided with a dull, heavy thud.
"Stay on your back," I commanded,
I hovered over her, my palms flat against the moss on either side of her head, pinning her there with my gaze.
I let her feel the anticipation. The weight of my body not yet giving her what she needed yet.
Then I locked my hands on her hips and thrust, pinning her to the forest floor as I sank into her heat, fully sheathed and exactly where she belonged.
She let out a snarl of pure frustration and release. I watched her shatter from the outside, my eyes memorizing every shift of her features and every tremor over her glistening skin.
For a long second, I didn't move. I just stayed buried deep, gritting my teeth as her slick, tight muscles clenched around me.
Her spine arched off the damp earth, a fractured gasp leaving her lips as her nails frantically dug into the heavy muscles of my shoulders.
Slowly, agonizingly, I dragged my hips back, pulling almost completely out just to feel the drag of friction, before slamming forward to bury myself in her again.
A dangerous groan ripped from my chest. Any lingering shred of my restraint shattered the moment her inner walls tightened around me again.
I didn't give her time to adjust. I dragged back and thrust again, deep and bruising, letting the raw, desperate instinct take over.
She took every brutal inch, her head throwing back and exposing the beautiful line of her throat as my pace turned ruthless.
"Good girl," I crooned against her ear. "Take what you need from me."
I hooked my arm under her knee, pinning her leg back to expose her, then angled my hips to press into her with a rhythmic, bone-deep friction on her clit. Her head thrashed back and forth, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure spiked.
Her muscles locked tight beneath me, her nails bit into my shoulders as she teetered on the edge. I drove into her, over and over, ruthlessly deep, savoring the raw, needy sounds she made in the back of her throat.
When she finally went over, it wasn't a soft thing. It was convulsive spasms that battered around me.
The tight, desperate grip of her climax shattered my last ounce of control. I drove into her one final time as my own release hit, white-hot and blinding. Lightning coursed through the iron silence, a violent, physical roar meant to completely overwhelm the fact that our souls couldn't touch.
I caught my weight on my forearms, my lungs burning as I dropped my head into the crook of her neck. For a long, heavy moment, the only thing that existed was the frantic thud of our hearts and the sweat slicking our skin.
I didn't pull out. I couldn't. Instead, I wrapped my arms securely around her and rolled, taking her with me until my back hit the grass and she was sprawled securely across my chest. Her arms stayed locked tight around my neck, her fingers digging into my skin like she refused to let me go.
"You did so well." I pressed the words into her hair. "You stayed. You didn't let the void take you."
She shivered. Her head dropped into the hollow of my shoulder. Hot tears slid down my neck—silent, endless.
I held her tighter. Nearly skin-to-skin. And still so far apart.
The silence where the bond should be throbbed like a wound.
Her fingers dug into my chest. Searching. Reaching for something that wasn't there.
"Take them off." Her voice cracked. "Please. I need to feel you. The real you."
Her voice was hoarse. Wrecked. But certain.
I reached for her wrist. Unclasped the iron. It fell into the moss with a dull thud.
She gasped—a sharp, shuddering intake of breath. Her whole body arched toward me like a plant toward sunlight.
I fumbled with my own cuffs. The iron bit cold against my fingers, then released.
Our bond roared back. It wasn't just a sound; it was a goddamn sunrise.
Her.
She flooded through me—warmth and want and the jagged edges of her grief and the fierce, blazing core of her that had never stopped burning.
The grey, hollow world I’d been living in since the cuffs—since not being able to feel her—snapped back into vivid, terrifying color.
I felt her heartbeat sync with mine. Felt the echo I'd been starving for finally answer.
Her hand found my face. Mine found hers.
We crashed together.
One kiss. Real. Whole. Her mouth on mine and the bond singing between us and every inch of my soul finally able to touch every inch of hers.
I wasn't just kissing her; I was breathing her in, trying to anchor the taste of her to my mouth so I’d never have to go back to the silence.
I tasted salt—her tears or mine, I couldn't tell. Didn't care.
The armor flared hot against my chest.
Warning.
I wrenched back. Put three feet between us in a single, agonizing lunge.
The Marks screamed. The armor smoked faintly where it pressed against my skin.
But the echo remained. Faint now. Muffled by distance. But there.
She was breathing hard. Staring at me across the space we'd been forced to create.
"One kiss," she whispered.
"One kiss." My voice came out shattered. "It's more than we had an hour ago."
She laughed. Broken. Beautiful.
I stayed there on the edge of the clearing, watching the rise and fall of her chest. The distance between us was only three feet, but the memory of the touch was already branded into my marrow.
The void had tried to take her, and the world had tried to keep us apart, but we had carved out this one moment of truth.
I’d burn the world down before I let the silence take us again.