Chapter 15
The air between us thickened until it was almost hard to draw breath.
His forehead rested against mine, our breaths mingling in the fragile space neither of us dared to close.
The firelight painted him in shifting shades of gold and shadow, his eyes glowing where the red threatened to break through his control.
My heart pounded—not from exhaustion or fear, but from something far deeper, something that had been simmering for too long. Every time he’d stepped between me and danger, every time he’d looked at me like I was both a weapon and someone he couldn’t bear to lose—it all gathered now, raw and heavy.
“I need you,” I whispered, the words scraped from somewhere too honest to hide.
His body went rigid. I felt it immediately—every muscle drawn tight under my hands, as though my confession was both invitation and warning. His stare locked on mine, gold brightening, a tremor revealing the battle he was fighting.
“Cass…” He breathed my name like a plea. Not to stop—just to understand.
I saw everything in his eyes—longing, fear, and the line he desperately clung to. His hesitation wasn’t indifference—it was terror that his desire might hurt me, that the part of him forged in blood might surface. He was fighting himself for my sake.
But I didn’t want restraint. Not anymore. Not after everything.
My hand rose instinctively, cupping the side of his face, fingers curling into the rough warmth of his skin. His breath caught, his gaze flicking briefly to my mouth, then back to my eyes. That tiny slip fractured the last of my composure.
“Con,” I breathed—his name a final unraveling.
He didn’t move. Neither did I. The room had gone silent except for the pop of the fire. The world narrowed to the inches between us—the heartbeat not entirely my own, the heat radiating from him into me.
When I drew his face down, it wasn’t force—it was gravity.
The moment our lips met, the tension that had kept him taut for so long shattered like glass under pressure.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was everything we’d buried—fury, fear, longing, and relief colliding all at once.
His palm slid to my nape, steadying me as though he feared I might disappear, though he still held himself in check, control trembling beneath the surface.
I felt the war in him—the pull between need and fear—but his touch never grew harsh. It was reverent, careful, a silent vow that no matter what storm lived inside him, it would never consume me.
When we finally broke apart, breathless, the space between us felt charged and delicate. His eyes had dimmed back to molten gold, though a rim of red still lingered.
He exhaled slowly, the sound raw, as though speech might crack the moment. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he murmured.
My thumb traced his jaw. “Yes,” I said softly. “I do.”
He closed his eyes briefly, bracing himself, but he didn’t pull away.
The room held its breath, the air thick with the scent of old stone, smoke, and the metallic tang of blood. Shadows pooled along the walls, drawn long by the fire’s low burn. Con lay beside me, eyes glowing beneath his lashes, every muscle coiled tight.
“If I touch you,” he said, voice a low growl vibrating through my chest, “I’ll never let you go.”
The words weren’t a threat—they were a confession. Unvarnished. True. My breath hitched, the space between us pulsing with something more dangerous than any weapon.
My heart clenched. Because I knew. If I gave him even an inch, he would take all of me—not out of possession, but devotion. He would hold me the way he fought—with everything he was.
And that was why I couldn’t stop.
“Con,” I whispered, my voice splintering between want and fear. He looked at me as if I were the last surviving miracle in a ruined world.
“You don’t understand,” he said roughly, moving closer. His breath brushed my lips. “If I have you… I’ll never stop.”
The gold in his eyes deepened, swirling like embers behind glass. I felt the internal rupture—his iron control slipping grain by grain. He was terrified. Of losing control. Of losing me.
But I’d already decided.
“I know,” I said, barely audible. “Trust me.”
For a single heartbeat, he hesitated.
Then the restraint snapped.
His hand rose, fingers trembling as they framed my jaw. His touch was roughened by centuries of battle, grounding and real. My breath hitched as his thumb brushed my lower lip—the gentlest touch from a man built of violence. Then his mouth claimed mine.
The kiss wasn’t soft. It was hungry, desperate—the ignition of something that had waited lifetimes.
The world dissolved—the war, Valerian, every fragile thread holding our lives together.
All that remained was him—solid, unyielding—and the fierce certainty that I would burn for him, even if it consumed me.
When he finally drew back, his forehead pressed to mine, both our breaths unsteady.
“You don’t know what you’ve started,” he murmured.
I smiled through the tremor in my chest. “Then we’ll burn together.”
His lips brushed mine again—slow, reverent—as though one wrong move might break me. I wanted him. God, I wanted him. But last time had ended in chaos, and for weeks afterward, I’d feared the fragile sense of safety I’d found in him would disappear if I gave in again.
But when his mouth traced the seam of mine, that fear dissolved. His tenderness melted every barricade.
His hand slipped beneath my shirt, fingers gliding along my ribs before resting at my waist. Warm. Steady. Patient. He was giving me a choice—to stop him or to pull him closer. And the way he looked at me, eyes dark-gold with danger and devotion, told me everything.
He wanted every piece of me.
My hands slid over his skin, exploring the firm ridges of muscle along his chest. He groaned, low and rough, but kept his pace measured, like a man battling his own hunger. When I pulled my shirt off, he let me, never breaking the kiss.
The sound he made when our skin met made my pulse falter. His chest hair rasped against my bare breasts, and a moan escaped me before I could stop it. Heat rolled through me—sharp, consuming. His gaze locked with mine—blazing blue fire—and I knew this wasn’t fleeting lust.
He unzipped his pants slowly, deliberately, helping me out of my underwear until nothing separated us but breath and want. His body pressed to mine, heavy and solid, his hands sliding down to cup my ass, pulling me close until I felt the proof of his need throbbing against me.
I should have been afraid. I wasn’t.
He touched my chin, thumb gliding over my lower lip. Even that light contact sent a tremor through me.
“Tell me what you fear,” he murmured.
“That you’ll be disappointed,” I confessed. “When it comes to relationships, I tend to make bad decisions.”
His smile was almost painful in its softness. “You’ve never had a real partner since becoming what you are. You judge yourself by a world that no longer fits. I will never betray you.”
“It’s not just that,” I whispered. “It’s me. Maybe I won’t be enough.”
His hand slid behind my neck, drawing me close until our lips nearly touched. “You are my world, Cass. My soul. Without you, there is no reason to live.”
A shiver tore through me. “That’s what scares me.”
“I know,” he breathed. “Then let me prove I’m worthy of your trust.”
Heat coiled low as his gaze dragged down my body. When his mouth closed over my breast, the world tilted. His tongue circled the sensitive peak, and I gasped, fingers tightening in his hair.
“Tell me you want me,” he growled softly. “There’s no going back once I have you.”
“Yes,” I breathed. “I want you more than anything.”
His fingers trailed lower, parting me, finding heat and slickness. He kissed the curve of my hip before sliding two fingers inside. My back arched, pleasure sharp and dizzying.
“Patience, my love,” he teased, his mouth traveling lower until his tongue replaced his hand. My grip fisted in the sheets, breath ragged as wave after wave shattered through me.
When I came, it was with his name on my lips, my body trembling.
He didn’t give me time to recover. Con moved over me, positioning himself between my thighs, his body a wall of heat and strength. The blunt head of his cock pressed against me. He paused, meeting my eyes, asking a silent question. I nodded.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until the sting melted into fire. I gasped, and he stilled, every muscle rigid with control.
“Relax for me, Cass,” he whispered, kissing me with a gentleness that stung my eyes.
When I did, he began to move—slow, intentional thrusts that made the air hum. Every movement pulled me closer, his restraint breaking with each breath until we moved together, a rhythm older than either of us.
He whispered my name like a prayer, his voice raw. I felt his heart pounding against mine, our breaths tangled, bodies slick with heat.
“Please,” I begged, shaking.
His pace quickened, his control unraveling, and when release came, it was a firestorm—my body tightening around him as he groaned, forehead pressed to mine.
I lay tangled in him, trying to comprehend what we’d done—what we’d become.
He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. “I will never get enough of you.”
I felt him harden again and groaned. “You’re really going to let that go to waste?”
His lips curved, eyes flickering gold. “You need rest.”
“You really know how to kill a mood,” I muttered.
“I could run a bath. Give you a massage.”
I raised a brow. “You know how to give massages? Lead with that next time.”
His chuckle vibrated through his chest. “I’ll remember that the next time I… vex you.”
“Planning to irritate me already?” I teased.
He kissed my fingers. “Never on purpose. But when it comes to your safety, we may not always agree.”
I rolled onto my side, smiling as he pulled me in, spooning me close. “Considering I’m the best fighter in the clan—aside from you and Rene—that shouldn’t be a problem.”
He sighed against my neck. “As long as you finally admit I am better.”
I laughed softly. “Dream on, Vonhof.”