Chapter Fifty-Two #3
In its place, her true self emerged.
Dark skin. White hair spilling loose around her shoulders. Inked runes trailing across her fingers and winding up her arms in intricate, ancient patterns. And though she could not see them, she knew her eyes now burnt their rightful purple.
Silence fell between them.
Kai inhaled sharply.
Not in disgust. Not in horror.
In awe.
Dawn felt something shift inside her chest at the sound. Something fragile. Dangerous.
And she couldn’t help but smile.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he whispered, reaching for her as though she were something precious, something he feared might vanish.
Dawn stepped back until the cool stone pressed against her spine. ‘I’m not.’
His jaw tightened, eyes darkening. ‘Don’t say that.’
‘Let’s not start this again.’
‘Fine,’ he replied lightly, though mischief sparked to life in his eyes. Dawn recognised that look instantly. ‘If you don’t believe me, Dawn… let me demonstrate.’
Her breath faltered. ‘Demonstrate how?’
He did not answer with words. Instead, Kai lowered himself to his knees before her.
For a heartbeat she simply stared, stunned, her thoughts scattering like startled birds.
‘What in the nine hells are you—’ But her protest dissolved into a gasp.
He lifted the hem of her long skirt with reverence rather than haste, his fingers careful, almost ceremonial. Then his lips brushed against her calf.
The touch was slow. Deliberate.
Dawn’s pulse thundered in her ears.
Heat surged through her at the sight of him there, proud Kai Blackburn kneeling at her feet, pressing kisses to her skin as though it were sacred scripture.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, unsure whether to shove him away or tangle into his dark hair.
‘Kai…’ she breathed, her voice unsteady despite herself.
His mouth trailed higher, unhurried, worshipful. Not demanding. Not claiming.
Proving.
Each kiss felt like a quiet rebellion against every cruel word she had ever been fed about herself. And for the first time in a long while, Dawn did not feel monstrous.
She felt wanted.
He continued his slow ascent, pressing kisses along her leg, unhurried and deliberate, until he reached the place that had begun to throb from anticipation alone.
Dawn’s breath trembled as she slid her fingers into his dark hair. A moment later, bolder now, she grasped his black twisted horns and tugged. The sound he made was low, pleased, and when he lifted his gaze to hers, there was no mistaking the satisfaction there.
He liked that she was taking control.
‘Do you want me to stop?’ he questioned, his mouth hovering, his breath warm against her skin.
She arched a brow, widening her stance just slightly. ‘Don’t start pretending to be gentle now, commander. We both know you’re not.’
A slow smile curved his lips. ‘Oh, I have no intention of being gentle.’
Her fingers tightened on his horns, cutting off whatever clever remark he might have added. His hands slid higher, tracing the curve of her hips before catching at the thin fabric between them. He drew it down slowly, his touch reverent rather than rushed, and let it fall away.
For a heartbeat, he simply looked at her.
Then he bent his head again.
His mouth wandered, teasing, and deliberate, everywhere but where the ache demanded. His tongue traced maddening paths along her skin, testing her patience, tasting her in fragments, as though he meant to unspool her piece by piece.
Dawn’s grip tightened in warning.
He only smiled against her, unhurried, savouring the control and the way she trembled above him.
‘Commander,’ she whispered, her voice trembling with need, every nerve in her body alive and straining. ‘I appreciate the patience, but you need to stop teasing.’
A low chuckle rumbled through him, dark and satisfied. He pressed a lingering kiss to her thigh, deliberately slow.
‘You shouldn’t hurry a man entrusted with such a sacred duty,’ he said, his mouth hovering just shy of where she ached most. Close enough to promise. Not close enough to grant.
‘Careful,’ she warned, breath hitching. ‘When it’s your turn, I’ll take just as long—’
Her threat dissolved into a gasp.
In one decisive movement, he abandoned restraint.
The teasing vanished, replaced by intention.
Dawn cried out as sensation swept through her, sharp and bright as lightning splitting a storm.
Her body arched, fingers tightening in his hair as if anchoring herself to something solid while the rest of her unravelled.
He knew exactly what he was doing. The measured pace, the rhythm, the unspoken command in every touch drew the air from her lungs and left only heat in its wake. Every breath she took was fractured, every thought scattering like ash.
‘Kai—’ she breathed, no longer teasing.
Her entire body tightened around the rising pleasure, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, until she was certain she could not bear another second of it.
And still, he did not rush.
He wanted to feel her break.
And she was dangerously close to doing just that.
Dawn had meant to draw it out, to savour every second and make him work for it as he had made her beg. But whatever fragile resolve she had dissolved the moment his fingers joined his tongue.
Her breath shattered as pleasure surged through her, fierce and unrelenting. The way his mouth sucked her, the way his hands fucked was too much, far too much to endure with composure. Her fingers tightened in his hair, her body arching helplessly against him.
‘Kai—’ she gasped, the name breaking from her like a prayer.
The tension snapped.
She came hard, head falling back against the wall, a cry torn from her throat as sensation rippled through her in blinding waves.
It coursed through her limbs like lightning, sharp and white-hot, leaving nothing untouched.
Her hips moved instinctively, chasing the last tremors, riding out the aftershocks as though the world had narrowed to nothing but touch and heat and him.
And still he did not withdraw immediately.
He held her there in the aftermath, steadying her as she trembled, as if he meant to memorise the way she fell apart.
Dawn’s breaths came ragged and unsteady, her entire body humming in the wake of it, undone in a way that had nothing to do with glamour or illusion.
And for the first time in a very long while, she did not feel the need to hide.
Dawn’s knees nearly gave way beneath her, but Kai caught her before she could fall.
He lifted her with surprising gentleness and laid her upon the bed, following her down so that his body hovered protectively above hers.
His hands came up to frame her face, thumbs brushing over her cheeks as though she were something fragile and rare.
She looked into his black eyes and felt something perilously close to fear.
How was she meant to kill Ash Acheron when Kai stared at her as if she were a fallen star, something miraculous, something meant only to light his path?
If she chose him… she would betray her entire people.
The thought coiled tight in her chest.
‘I will spend the rest of my life telling you how beautiful you are,’ Kai whispered, pressing soft kisses to her chin, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth. ‘Until one day you finally believe me.’
She should have told him not to bother.
She should have warned him not to build castles on sand. Instead, her heart cracked quietly at the image he painted, of years stretching ahead, of mornings and evenings filled with nothing more dangerous than his voice calling her beautiful.
Dawn did not know what she would do tomorrow.
She did not know which oath would claim her in the end. But in this moment, she allowed herself the indulgence of pretending that a future with Kai, a future where she was not monster or weapon or witch, but simply a woman loved, might be possible.
She reached up and kissed him.
She kissed him as though she were drowning and he was the last breath left in the world. She kissed him as though there were no kingdoms, no wars, no blood between their people. As though he were not a wyverian and she were not a witch.
She kissed him until the ache inside her quieted.
Until the fractures in her heart felt, if not mended, at least held together.
Until she almost forgot the colour of her own eyes.
Then again, they were only eyes.
Nothing more.