Chapter 49
TAKHISS
She stands at the window, backlit by the hearth, framed in falling rain. It traces the glass in lazy rivers, painting her silhouette in silver-blue. Her hair, damp from the storm, clings to her neck in loose curls.
She’s flushed from the cold, and something primal in me unravels.
Not because she’s fragile. She isn’t. Not because she’s beautiful. She is. But because she’s mine.
I don’t ask permission anymore. Not out of arrogance. Never out of disregard. But because I know her now. Every breath, every shift of muscle.
I cross the space in two strides. My claws slip beneath the hem of her soaked shirt, cold meeting heat. She gasps, startled—but she doesn’t move away. Instead, she arches, spine bowing into my touch.
“Ella.”
She turns, mouth finding mine. We kiss like we’re trying to relive every one we ever missed.
“I missed this,” she whispers.
I lift her easily, setting her on the table I carved months ago—the one she helped me finish, wood still smelling faintly of oil and ash. Her legs wrap around my waist.
“You’re soaked,” I murmur, dragging my fingers down the line of her ribs.
“So fix it,” she dares.
I do.
I peel the shirt away, inch by inch. My eyes drink in every inch revealed: the slope of her shoulders, the swell of her breasts, nipples already tight from the chill.
“Stars,” I whisper. “You’re radiant.”
She tugs my shirt over my head next. Her fingers pause on my scars. The long burn that streaks across my shoulder. The twisted, silvered plasma wound near my ribs. Each one gets a touch. A kiss.
“You bled for me.”
“I bled to find you again,” I say. “And I’d do it all over.”
That’s all it takes.
She unbuttons my pants with trembling precision. I return the favor, peeling her wet clothes down until she’s bare before me—wet, warm, flushed.
“Fuck,” she breathes. “Takhiss…”
I cup her hips. “We can stop—”
“No.” Her legs tighten around me. “I want this. I want you.”
I guide myself between her legs. She’s soaked. Warm.
She groans. “Slow. Don’t stop—but slow.”
I nod. My hands tighten on her thighs as I slide deeper.
Her walls stretch, tight around me. My cock throbs, aching to slam into her—but I don’t. I savor her.
“Oh gods—Takhiss—” she cries, her voice breaking as I bottom out inside her.
“You feel like fire,” I growl, forehead pressed to hers. “You feel like home.”
She kisses me again. Deeper. More.
Then she moves.
Slow at first. Then faster. Her gasps turn to moans. My name becomes a chant. My claws grip the edge of the table so I don’t break her with how hard I want to move.
“Harder,” she begs.
I do.
I fuck her like she’s the last light in a dying universe. Like she’s the only breath I’ll ever take again.
“Yes—Takhiss—right there—don’t stop—”
“Never,” I snarl. “You’re mine.”
Her back arches. Her scream rips through the room as she comes—shaking, breathless, perfect.
I follow with a roar. Heat floods into her as I bury myself to the hilt, every muscle locking tight. The bond flares between us, jalshagar burning so bright I feel like I’ll come apart.
When it ends, I don’t pull away. I rest against her, both of us slick with sweat.
She kisses my neck, still trembling. “You... fuck. That was...”
I chuckle. “We’re not done.”
Her eyes spark. “Good.”
Later that night, as we lie together, Vex stirs in his cot. A soft whimper. I rise, gently, tuck him back in.
When I crawl back into bed, Ella’s already smiling in the dark.
“You’re good with him,” she whispers.
I brush hair from her face. “He makes it easy.”
“Still. You’re different now. Softer.”
I shrug. “Still sharp where it counts.”
“I know,” she teases. “I have bruises.”
We laugh. Quiet, sleepy, sated.
And when sleep takes us, it does so gently.
Outside, the world waits. The stars wheel overhead.
But inside? We are firelight and breath and belonging.
We are just us.