5. Naeris #4
“Back up,” I whispered. But my hands were already fisting in the front of his uniform, pulling him closer.
“I’m trying.” His voice sounded like gravel and fire. “The bond doesn’t care what we want.”
Another flash slammed into me, the two of us in a pool—no, a lake.
Our arms were entwined, our feet were treading water to keep us afloat, while our bodies were anchored by his cock inside me and our fused lips.
I felt the thickness of his phantom shaft.
But when my pussy clamped, it found nothing to hold on to, making me moan with desperation, need, and frustration.
I wasn't sure if I was more frustrated by him not being inside me or because those images kept coming at me.
Either way, my thighs shook. My clit throbbed. I was soaked.
Thyros’ forehead dropped to mine. Our noses brushed. Our mouths were so close I could taste his breath.
“Naeris…” The way he said my name sounded like worship and ruin at the same time.
My fingers tightened in his uniform. One of my thighs shifted, pressing against the thick, hard length of him through his pants.
He groaned—low, almost broken like he was fighting this…
whatever this was as much as I—and rocked forward once, grinding against me.
The friction tore a soft, desperate sound from my throat.
His hand slid down, his palm flattened over my hip, then lower, fingers digging into the curve of my ass as he pulled me harder against his cock.
“I can smell how wet you are,” he rasped against my mouth. “I can feel how badly you want me to fill you right here.”
My head fell back against the wall with a soft thunk. My hips rolled against him instinctively. “I hate you for this.”
“Good.” His lips brushed the corner of my mouth, not quite a kiss, but close enough that we both trembled. “I hate myself more.”
For one heartbeat, the bond won. His mouth crashed down on mine.
It wasn’t gentle. It was starving. Tongues and teeth and the raw, possessive need of two people the universe had decided belonged together.
His hand slid between us, cupping me through my pants, pressing the heel of his palm against my clit while I moaned into his mouth.
I was right there again—standing at the cusp—when reality crashed back in. I wrenched my head sideways, breaking the kiss with a gasp.
“No.” My voice cracked. “I won’t be owned again. I won’t be bred for anyone, not even you.”
Thyros froze.
For a long second, the only sound was our ragged breathing. Then he pulled back so fast his shoulders hit the opposite wall. His chest heaved. His hands shook at his sides. The look of devastation that flashed across his face cut deeper than any blade.
“I know,” his voice was raw with self-loathing. “I’m the last thing you should ever want. I was forged in fracture. I carry the darkness they couldn’t burn out. If I let this bond take you, I’ll drag you into the Abyss with me.”
The emergency lights flickered back to full, and seconds later, the guards reappeared. I shoved past Thyros without another word, shoulders squared, chin high, even though every step sent another pulse of aching need through my core, and the bond still screamed between us like a live wire.
They led me down a wide, softly lit corridor that felt more like a luxury cruiser than a warship.
The guest quarters were simple but elegant, with clean lines, a wide viewport showing the curve of Earth below, a large bed, and a small sitting area.
The door sealed behind me with a quiet click. I was alone.
For the first time since my capture, the tension in my shoulders eased a fraction.
I walked to the viewport and pressed my palm against the cool glass.
Earth turned slowly beneath us, blue and white and heartbreakingly familiar.
Every rebel briefing I’d ever sat through flashed through my mind.
The rebels had taught me things the Order never wanted us to know.
That humans hadn’t always been scattered across the stars.
That they had once lived on a single world before the Sythari came harvesting.
That our Gifts weren’t random mutations but something older.
Something that echoed the stories of Ashera and Caelor.
What Ella had said earlier… it matched too cleanly.
The names. The fleeing pair. The sanctuary world.
Making me wonder now if they weren't a myth at all.
And if they weren't, if they were indeed a memory, what did that mean for our worlds?
I listened deep inside me. And the more I thought, the more convinced I became that something in my blood remembered it, even if my mind was still catching up.
I exhaled shakily and dragged a hand through my braid, loosening it until dark strands fell around my shoulders.
The pull in my chest—the one that had started the moment Thyros stepped into the holding block—hadn’t faded.
If anything, being away from him made it sharper.
Like an itch under the skin I couldn’t reach.
“Stop it,” I muttered to myself. “He’s an Arkhevari. A god who thinks he can own you with a look. You don’t need that kind of complication.”
But my body clearly disagreed.
I took my clothes off and headed for the washroom, desperate for anything that might clear my head. The door slid open to reveal a shower that looked more like a small temple than hygiene tech. Smooth black stone veined with glowing gold circuitry. A wide circular platform in the center.
When I stepped onto it, soft lights bloomed overhead, and the air warmed instantly.
“Manual or sensory?” a calm, synthetic voice asked.
“Sensory,” I replied, curious despite myself.
The floor rippled. Warm water—almost too warm—rose from hidden jets in a swirling mist that smelled faintly of citrus and ozone.
It wasn’t just falling water; it moved like living silk, sliding over my skin, massaging tight muscles, finding every knot and bruise from the capture.
Tiny glowing particles drifted in the mist, clinging to my body before dissolving into a tingling heat that sank straight into bone.
For one blessed moment, my mind quieted.
Then the bond slammed into me.
Thyros.
His face flashed behind my closed eyes—burning amber stare, golden skin, the way his aura had flared crimson and gold when he looked at me in the cell.
The memory wasn’t mine. It was ours. The bond fed it to me in vivid, merciless detail: his large hands pinning my wrists above my head, his mouth on my throat, teeth scraping, the thick press of his cock against my entrance as he growled my name like a vow and a threat.
My nipples tightened instantly, almost painfully. Heat pooled low in my belly, slick and sudden, dripping down my inner thighs. I sucked in a sharp breath.
The mist thickened, turned oily, gliding over my breasts like a lover’s palms. The particles pulsed hotter, circling my nipples in slow, deliberate swirls. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood.
No.
But the bond didn’t care. It pushed deeper. Another flash—me on my knees in front of him, his hand fisted in my hair, guiding my mouth down his cock while he watched with that same hungry, possessive stare. The phantom taste of him flooded my tongue. My pussy clenched hard around nothing.
A broken sound escaped me. My hand moved before I could stop it, sliding down my stomach, between my thighs.
I was soaked, embarrassingly, shamefully wet.
Two fingers brushed my clit, and my knees buckled.
The shower caught me, the mist curled around my waist like arms holding me up while I stroked myself faster, chasing the pressure the bond demanded.
Thyros.
His name echoed in my mind like a command.
I pictured him behind me, chest to my back, one big hand covering mine, forcing my fingers deeper while his cock nudged against my ass.
The image was so vivid I felt the heat of his skin, the scrape of his scar-roughened palm, the low growl in my ear: Mine.
My thighs shook. My clit throbbed under my fingers. I was right there—right on the edge—when the bond surged again, showing me the moment he would finally push inside me, stretching me open, claiming every inch while I screamed his name.
I almost came.
My back arched, a desperate moan tore from my throat?—
I slammed my palm against the wall so hard the stone vibrated. “Stop!”
The shower obeyed instantly, the mist cooled to icy needles. The glowing particles winked out. Cold water crashed over me like a slap.
I stood there gasping, water streaming down my face, my body still trembling on the razor’s edge of release.
My pussy ached, empty and throbbing. My nipples were so tight they hurt.
And worst of all, the bond was still there, humming under my skin like a live wire, promising that if I just gave in, he would make it feel so much better than my own fingers ever could.
Rage flooded me, hot and sharp.
I was a Prime Luminae. I had spent five years burning the temple’s chains, refusing to spread my legs for their sacred bloodline, refusing to be bred. And now this golden god—this executioner—had only to look at me, and my body betrayed me faster than any priest ever had.
“He’s not your salvation,” I snarled at my reflection in the wet black stone. My voice cracked. “He’s just another cage with golden edges.”
I pressed my forehead to the cool wall, breathing hard. The pull behind my ribs hadn’t faded. If anything, denying it had made it sharper, a golden thread yanked tight, dragging me toward the male currently somewhere else on this ship.
I hated how much I wanted him.
I hated even more that my body was already imagining what those large, scarred hands would feel like sliding over my wet skin instead of the mist.
I stayed under the freezing spray until my skin felt raw and my pulse finally slowed. It didn’t help. The bond was still there. Stronger now. Giving me the terrible feeling that fighting it was only going to make me want him more.