Chapter 37 #2
She looks at me, brow furrowed. “I think so. But just not because of the power…” She trails off.
“I don’t want to share her secrets, as she isn’t very forthcoming.
But not every cursed soul is such because they wanted to be.
Sometimes, their only chance of really living is through these deals. Or so I gather.”
“So you are a friend, and you are a way for this… thing to live through you?”
“She used to be a woman. And, yes, I suppose. In some sense. But I’m also still me.”
“You are far too good and too pure for this world, Arlet,” I say. And then, a lump forms in my throat. I can’t help it—can’t keep the words from spilling out. “You have always been too good for me.”
She looks up, finally meeting my eyes. In the dim torchlight, she is as tragically beautiful as ever.
It seems she feels the heat, too, because she moves closer.
My heart, that beautiful, awful thing, speeds up in my chest just as it did when we kissed.
I crawl across the floor to be right in front of her.
“We might only have tonight, Arlet. I know I hurt you, but for the rest of my life, I swear never to again.”
She takes a deep breath, and it’s like I can see all her hostility melt away.
Her legs are slightly parted from her seated position.
“May I?” I ask.
She takes another shaky breath, and then nods and I tentatively make my way between them.
“There is nowhere else I’d rather be on the night before my possible death—”
She squeezes her eyes shut, and I realize she’s been holding back tears because one falls down her cheek.
“Than with you, Firelocks. Arlet.”
Another tear falls.
“I would die beside my mate a thousand times if that was the only option given to me.”
At the word ‘mate,’ her eyes fly open. She opens her mouth, and I think she will protest again.
Push me away again.
But instead, she grabs my face and pulls me toward her. Her lips are warm, and her breath seems to breathe life right back into me.
But this time, I do not take.
I let her lead.
Arlet’s fingers are curled in my hair, trembling slightly, as if she cannot quite believe she is the one who closed the distance.
I can taste salt from her tears, feel the fragile strength in the way she presses her mouth to mine.
There is nothing fragile about the kiss itself.
It is searching. Fierce. Desperate in a way that makes my pulse thunder.
When she pulls back, it is only a breath.
“Don’t swear your life away so easily,” she whispers, voice unsteady. “Not for me.”
“For you,” I murmur, brushing my thumb beneath her eye to catch another tear, “I would swear anything.”
Her throat works as she swallows. I see the moment the fear rises again—the reminder that tomorrow is not promised. Her hands shift from my hair to my shoulders, pressing there, grounding herself.
I move carefully between her parted legs, not with urgency, but with reverence. My hands rest on her thighs first, warm and steady, waiting for the slightest sign of hesitation.
There is none.
Instead, she inhales sharply and her fingers curl into the front of my threadbare shirt, holding me closer. Her gaze flickers down, then back up to my eyes, as if she is measuring the weight of this choice and finding that she does not regret it.
“You can stop me at any time,” I say quietly.
“I know,” she replies.
And she means it.
I lean forward, kissing her again, slower now. My hands glide upward, thumbs tracing the curve of her hips, feeling the tremor that runs through her. When I shift my weight, my tail slides along the stone floor behind me, instinctive and restless.
Her eyes widen slightly at the sensation.
It coils gently around her ankle.
Not tight. Not yet. Just there.
Her hand drops, brushing along the length of it. Testing. Exploring. She studies the way it moves—how it curls more fully now around her calf, a slow, possessive line of contact that never constricts. Just holds.
The last time I held her like this, I’d tied her to a tree. She’d accepted my affection, my want. And now, she accepts me again.
My tail tightens just slightly—not restraining, but anchoring her leg to me. She inhales sharply at the subtle pressure, and her hands slide down my arms, tracing muscle, lingering at my wrists.
“I missed you,” she whispers. “For weeks, I went back and forth between trying to forget you existed and missing your touch. Missing…this.”
My eyes burn and I marvel at the wonder it is to have a heart. The sweetness of the warmth is something I never got to experience with her.
Arlet pauses. Her fingers close around my wrists, guiding them upward. Above her head.
The movement is deliberate.
My pulse spikes.
“Do you trust me again?” I ask.
She gives a shaky little laugh. “I...I think so.”
I lean forward, bracing my hands against the wall behind her instead of touching her, giving her the space to feel the difference—to feel that this is her choice. My body cages her, but does not trap her.
Her breath grows heavier. Her chest rises and falls against mine.
“Vann,” she whispers. “I know you and right now you’re holding back.”
“I would rather break myself than frighten you.”
Her expression softens. Something inside her seems to settle.
Then she surprises me.
Her fingers trail down my arm, over my side, and lower—until they brush against the base of my tail. The reaction is immediate; it flexes, tightening instinctively around her thigh this time. My cock surges, straining against my pants.
She gasps at the shift in pressure.
“Too much?” I ask, ready to pull away.
“No.” Her voice is steadier now. “I want to feel it all.”
“I told you in your room that didn’t have to be the last time.” My hands finally move from the wall to her waist, thumbs stroking slow arcs across her skin, waiting for her to surrender even more.
She does.
Her head tips back, exposing the line of her throat. I press a kiss there, then another, feeling her shiver.
Each sound she makes feels like a gift.
Each breath, a vow renewed.
Her legs wrap around my waist, drawing me closer, and my tail follows, sliding along her spine in a slow, deliberate line before curling around her again—this time firm enough that she feels held.
Safe.
Claimed—but never owned.
Her forehead rests against mine as the space between us disappears entirely. I hook my thumbs around the bottom of the armor they make her wear. Then I shift out of my own pants until my cock springs free.
“I don’t want to waste any more time,” she breathes.
So I find her entrance. Wet and soft, just as I remember. I line myself up, and finally, I come home once more.
As I shift forward, pushing into her, the song in my chest sings loudly. I need her to hear this again.
Need her whole.
I would take this night, but I am growing greedy. I need her for as long as I possibly can.
I need us both to survive tomorrow.