Chapter 9 The Water’s Edge #2
And though every muscle in him strained with need, he held himself utterly still. Letting her explore. Letting her choose. If she asked—he would give her everything. But not before she understood what it meant to be worshipped. Savored.
Auryn’s breath snagged, her hand stroking him—hesitant at first, then bold. Heat pulsed through his aura with every touch, alive as a brand, ancient as the runes carved into him. Yet it wasn’t the magic that made her pulse race.
It was him.
Her Kailorien.
In the firelight, his body looked sculpted from something older than stone—marble tempered across centuries of battle.
Veins threaded beneath corded muscle like rivers of lightning.
Each brush of her fingers sent his runes flickering white, and a voiceless song answered her ache with a rhythm so primal it sank into her chest like a second heartbeat.
Mesmerized, she leaned closer.
Closer.
Until her lips grazed his ear, until the smell of him surrounded her—rain after a storm, battlefield steel, the sharp tang of glyphing oil he used on his blade. Wild. Untamed.
Resh’s palms moved slowly, reading every inch of her like sacred text. His hands skimmed her waist, fingers spreading heat across her back.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, voice low and ragged. “Is it fear…or want?”
“Want,” she breathed.
Stars, his voice. Rough as gravel, smooth as rays of sunlight. He spoke like a man with experience in the unmaking of a soul. And she ached for it. Needed it.
Her hand trembled against his arousal. Her thighs pressed together, heat building until her knees threatened to buckle.
“It’s impossible,” she whispered, cheeks burning. “You’d…break me.”
He laid his hand over hers, lips brushing her temple in reassurance. “Not unless you wished it,” he promised. “And even then…I would take you like worship. Never conquest.”
He gave her a moment to absorb the meaning of his words. To believe them. Trust them.
“I’ve waited for your touch,” he confessed, voice rumbling against her skin. “Every day. Every breath. Do you think I’d harm the only soul I’ve ever truly wanted to protect?”
His hands traced upward. One cupped her shoulder blade; the other found the delicate tie at her gown. He stilled, forehead resting against her chest, his fingers lingering on the knot.
“You can still say no, Auryn. I’ll never—”
“I want you to,” she said, her voice steady at last. “I want you to see all of me.”
With one slow tug, the knot unraveled. The gown sighed open, slipping down her back like falling water. It pooled at her feet in a ripple of white. She stood bare before him—unflinching—firelight and river air kissing luminous skin.
Resh gathered himself, then looked up.
“By all the stars,” he whispered. “You are…”
But words failed.
Anything less than worship would fall as desecration to the sight.
His hands rose, tracing her ribs, her breasts, the dip of her neck.
Each touch asked a question. Each shiver gave an answer.
Her fingers slid into his hair as she yielded, and he sank to his knees.
He kissed the inside of her thigh. Her hip. The hollow of her navel.
“You were forged of skyfire,” he murmured, lips brushing upward. “Born of stars, of courage, of defiance.”
Her nails grazed his scalp when his tongue swept the underside of her breast. He rose then, impossibly tall, chest brushing hers, arms enfolding her like a vow.
“And if you break, then break in my embrace. Let me be the place where you come undone.”
Guiding her back step by step, he sat on the cot and drew her astride him. Her thighs bracketed his, the living pulse of her body yielding against his length. His arms enclosed her—one hand sheltering her head, the other steady at her waist. He buried his face in her throat and breathed her in.
Lavender. Parchment. Wanting.
“Kailorien,” she whispered.
Void help him. That name, spoken in that tone, succeeded in breaking him where centuries of war had failed.
He lifted his head. Her silver eyes glowed molten with devotion and surrender.
He slid his hand down between them, brushing her center.
She gasped, clung, hips jolting as his fingers found her slick and swollen.
“You’re safe with me. I have you.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered.
“You don’t need to.” His mouth pressed to her jaw, his breath unsteady. “You only need to feel.”
His fingers circled her, patient, listening for every catch of her breath, every broken moan of his name.
She tipped her head back, hands gripping his shoulders, until her climax broke over her—thighs clenched, cry muffled against his throat.
He anchored her, held her through it, every breath in his chest a thread of restraint.
She didn’t let him savor long. Her hand slid down his chest, trembling, then wrapped around him—hard, straining, pulsing with need.
“Let me,” she whispered. “Let me give you this.”
“Auryn—” his warning frayed. “If you touch me like that, I won’t last.”
“I don’t want you to.”
A guttural growl broke from him as her hand stroked, shy but insistent. His hips jerked into her palm, his jaw clenching as her thighs shifted to grind against his.
“Please,” she gasped. “Touch me again.”
His fingers slipped between them once more, and he matched her rhythm, his thumb circling, stroking, claiming. Tension surged, a storm rising in both of them.
“Auryn,” he groaned, burying his face in her hair. “I’m—”
“Kailorien,” she breathed. “Let go.”
He did. With a hiss, he spilled into her hand, forehead pressed to hers as stars burst behind his eyes. As he came, she found her own bliss, clinging, shuddering, gasping against his throat.
They collapsed together, tangled, their bodies shaking from the maelstrom they’d weathered side by side. His arms surrounded her as if he might never be whole again if he let go.
Auryn slumped into him, breath fluttering against the curve of his throat. Resh held her steady, one arm beneath her thighs, the other cradling her back. Her limbs yielded—not with passion now, but with exhaustion.
He forced the edge of his hunger to ease. Forcing his mind not to replay the way she had cried his name like benediction.
Auryn.
His Auryn.
She glowed, cheeks flushed, faint starlit freckles winking along her skin where the firelight touched her. But when his lips brushed her shoulder—then her temple—her skin was too cool. A creeping chill beneath the warmth of her blush.
Just like by the river. When she brushed it off as nothing.
I’m not the only one keeping secrets. Though hers feel more dangerous than mine.
Carefully, he lifted her, easing her back against the mound of blankets at the cot’s head. She made a small, drowsy sound of protest, her brow furrowing.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Just a moment. You’re cold.”
She huffed, curling closer. “You’re warm enough.”
“I’m not a blanket,” he teased, reaching for one.
“I won’t be cold if you are near,” she mumbled.
Resh bit back a grin, tension loosening in his chest as he tucked the blanket over her shoulders. She drifted, cheek against his chest, and he shifted, meaning to stoke the fire.
Her hand caught his wrist. “No,” she said sharply. Afraid.
He paused. “What is it?”
She blinked, and whispered, “I don’t want to dream.”
The smile vanished from his lips. There was no play in her voice now.
Dark dreams. Again. More frequent of late.
“I’ll stay,” he said at once, lowering beside her again. “No fire needed. I’ll keep you warm.”
She melted into him, her breath slowing. His arms wrapped around her like armor, his chin tucking over her head as he pressed a kiss into her hair.
“You won’t dream,” he whispered. “Not tonight.”
Her brow smoothed into sleep, one hand slipping over his chest as if searching for something. Beneath her palm, Ansuz flared—its faint white glow casting gentle light between them. Reaching higher, she touched his emerald earring, twirling it until rest took her at last.
Firelight played across her cheeks, her lashes pale as snowdrift. She seemed peaceful now. Untouched by shadows. Safe. His gaze lingered on her face, unguarded in a way he never saw when she woke. He traced every line, every rise and fall of her chest, branding it into memory.
I want you to see me, she had told him.
And now, he had.