Chapter 32
Selena
Istared at him—this Verya warrior. His emerald runes pulsed faintly along his arms, his spiritforce responding to the emotion he was trying so hard to contain.
He deserved more than silence.
“Ryzen.” I took a breath, steadied myself. Chose my words like they mattered—because they did. “I don’t take this lightly. What you’re offering… I need you to understand what it means to me.”
He watched me. Patient. Still.
“The pull between us,” I continued, “maybe the Stars and Fates made our paths cross for a reason. Maybe you were always meant to be part of this constellation.” My throat tightened around the word.
Constellation. The web of souls I carried everywhere—secure and steady, holding me together when everything else fractured.
“But I won’t pretend this is something it’s not. Not yet.”
His head tilted. Waiting.
“This would be a mutual bonding. Between friends. Between two people who want the betterment of those we love.” I met his eyes, letting him see the truth there. “I won’t demand you share my nestbed. Won’t ask you to be anything outside of what feels right between us. And if we never fall in love…”
The word caught. Love. Such a small word for such an impossible thing.
“…at least we’ll still have each other.”
I was offering him an out. A way to bond without the weight of romance, without the expectations that had shaped every other thread in my web. He could take it or leave it.
I hoped—fiercely, selfishly—that he’d take it.
Something shifted in his expression. The wariness didn’t vanish, but it softened—rearranged itself into something quieter. Something that looked almost like relief.
“Friends,” he repeated, testing the word.
“Friends,” I confirmed. “Who happen to be saving each other and the galaxy together.”
The faintest curve touched his lips. Not quite a smile. Close enough.
“I’ve never done this.” His voice dropped. The admission cost him something—I could see it in the way his jaw tightened, the way his runes dimmed for a heartbeat before brightening again. “I don’t know how to…”
He trailed off. His gaze dropped to the space between us, and for the first time since I’d met him, Ryzen looked uncertain. Not afraid. Not unwilling. Just… lost.
Something warm and aching bloomed behind my ribs.
“Most of my mates had never ‘done this’ either.” The words came out gentler than I intended, a small laugh threaded through them. “We figured it out together.”
His eyes lifted to mine. Searching. “You’re not… concerned?”
“About what? Your lack of experience?” I shook my head. “Ryzen, I’ve had a mate who’d never touched a female, let alone holding their hand. I’ve had mates whose biology was so different from mine we had to learn each other from scratch. Trust me—” I held his gaze. “—I’m not concerned.”
The tension between us shifted. Not vanishing—reshaping. Nerves remained, but the weight of the decision had been made. Two willing souls standing on the edge of something permanent.
“So.” I clasped my hands together, because if I didn’t give them something to do, they’d shake. “How does this work? The bonding. What do I need to know?”
Ryzen’s throat worked. “Physical union. The spiritforce responds to… closeness. To trust. It merges when both souls are open and willing.” He sighed. “The Verya texts describe it as two flames learning to share the same hearth.”
Two flames. One hearth.
I could work with that.
I crossed the distance between us.
Two steps. That was all it took to close the gap that propriety and caution had maintained since he’d first set foot on Destima. Two steps, and I was close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin, to see the way his runes pulsed faster at my proximity.
He held perfectly still. A warrior’s discipline in every locked muscle.
“Ryzen.” I pitched my voice low. Steady. The same tone I used when approaching something wild and wary. “I’m going to kiss you. If you don’t want that, say so now.”
His breath caught. Just barely—a hitch so slight I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been watching his chest.
“I want that.” Rough. Almost inaudible.
I rose on my toes and pressed my lips to his.
Soft. Slow. Giving him every chance to pull away, to change his mind, to realize this was too much. His mouth was warm and still beneath mine—frozen in that first startled instant where the brain hadn’t caught up to the body.
Then he exhaled against my lips. A trembling, shattered sound.
And kissed me back.
Tentative. Careful. Like he was handling something sacred and terrified of breaking it. His lips moved against mine in a hesitant rhythm, learning the pressure, the angle, the way I tilted into him.
My chest ached. Not with sadness—with something softer. Tenderer. This male who could shatter bones with his spirit daggers, who’d survived centuries of war and loss, was trembling because I’d kissed him.
I slid my hand up his chest—over the rough fabric of his vest, feeling the heat of him burn through the material. His heartbeat hammered against my palm. Fast. Unsteady.
His hands hovered at his sides. Uncertain. Not touching me, not pulling away—suspended in that agonizing space between wanting and not knowing if he was allowed.
I broke the kiss just enough to whisper against his mouth. “You can touch me.”
A sound escaped him. Low and rough, caught somewhere between a groan and something I didn’t have a name for.
I took his wrists. Gently. Guided his hands to my waist.
His fingers landed like they were afraid of leaving marks—light, barely there, hovering over the fabric of my living suit. The muscles in his forearms tensed as he held himself in check, and I could feel the restraint vibrating through him.
“Here.” I pressed his palms flat against my sides. Firm. Deliberate. “Just feel me. I’m not going to break.”
His fingers curled. Tightened. Not hard enough to bruise, but enough that I felt the intent behind it—the need he was barely keeping leashed.
Good.
I kissed him again. Deeper this time. Let my tongue trace the seam of his lips until he opened for me, and then I tasted him—something clean and bright, like ozone after a storm. His tongue met mine, cautious, following my lead.
The emerald thread between us hummed. Faint. Barely there. But I felt it—a warmth building at the edges of my mental web, a new color pressing against my shields.
I guided his hands higher. Over my ribs, the curve of my waist, up my back. Showed him the map of me through touch alone—where to grip, where to soften, where the slightest pressure made my breath stumble.
“Like that.” I arched into his palm when it settled between my shoulder blades. His fingers splayed wide, spanning me. “See? You’re a fast learner.”
His laugh was barely a breath. Strained. Wonderful. “You’re a patient teacher.”
“I’m an invested one.”
I pushed against his chest—not hard, just enough to walk him backward. One step. Two. The backs of his knees hit the bed and his eyes went wide, the green dark and swallowed with something that made heat coil low in my core.
“Sit.”
He sat.
I stood between his knees and looked down at him—this towering warrior reduced to looking up at me with an expression that was equal parts wonder and barely contained hunger.
His runes flared brighter. Emerald light traced the lines of his throat, his collarbone, disappearing beneath the collar of his vest.
I reached for the closure at his throat. “Is this all right?”
He nodded. Swallowed hard.
I unclasped the vest slowly. Peeled the fabric away from his shoulders, baring the skin beneath inch by inch.
His body was lean and hard—sculpted by centuries of combat, mapped with faint scars that told stories I’d never know.
The emerald runes ran from his shoulders down his arms, across his chest, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
Beautiful. Dangerous. Mine—or about to be.
I tossed the vest aside and traced one rune with my fingertip. He flinched. Not pain—sensation. The rune flared under my touch, blazing brighter, and his breath left him in a sharp, startled rush.
“Sensitive?” I kept my voice light even as my pulse hammered.
“No one has ever—” He stopped. His jaw worked. “The runes respond to spiritforce. Yours is… loud.”
I smiled. Couldn’t help it. “I’ve been told.”
I climbed onto his lap.
Straddled him. Settled my weight slowly, deliberately, giving us both a moment to adjust. His hands found my thighs—still tentative, still holding back—and a tremor ran through him as I pressed against his chest.
The contact was electric. His skin burned against mine through the thin barrier of my living suit, and I could feel every ridge of muscle, every scar, every place where his runes pulsed their emerald light. His breath came fast against my neck.
“Relax.” I carded my fingers through his hair—long, dark, threaded with those emerald streaks that caught the ambient light. Softer than I’d expected. “We go at your pace. Nothing happens that you don’t want.”
He slid his hands up my thighs. Slowly. Each inch a choice—a deliberate step further from caution, further into trust. They found my hips and settled there, his grip firming.
“What if I want everything?” Quiet. Rough.
Heat surged through me. Real and devastating.
“Then I’ll give you everything.”
I kissed him again—harder now, with intent.
No more gentleness, no more caution. I kissed him like I meant it, like I needed it, and this time he met me halfway.
His mouth opened under mine and he tightened his hands on my hips and he pulled me closer with a strength that stole the air from my lungs.
There you are.
The shy reserve cracked. Not shattered—cracked. Enough for the want beneath to bleed through. His fingers dug into my hips as I rolled against him, and the sound he made—low, broken, desperate—sent sparks cascading down my spine.
I nipped his lower lip. Felt him jolt.
“Touch me,” I murmured against his mouth. “Anywhere. Everywhere. Don’t think about it—just feel.”