Chapter 20 Kovrak
TWENTY
KOVRAK
Sunlight spilled through the tall windows of Kovrak’s private chambers, painting everything in liquid gold.
He woke to the quiet rhythm of Faith’s breathing and her solid warmth against his side.
Even before he tested the muscles of his abdomen, he knew he was healing with a speed that had baffled the royal healers.
The deep puncture wound in his side pulled with a dull, bearable ache, but the searing fire was gone.
The completed mate bond thrummed beneath his skin, a living current of shared vitality. He was certain it was knitting him back together, cell by cell. Love, it seemed, was the most potent medicine he’d ever known.
For two days, Faith had been his unwavering sun.
Bringing him meals in bed, rearranging pillows with a scowl when he tried to sit up too fast, and arguing with that stubborn set to her jaw when he mentioned royal duties.
It was the same fierce care he’d shown her after the fire, and the symmetry of it humbled him deeply.
He’d been raised on a throne of solitary strength, taught that needing was a flaw in a ruler.
Yet here was this woman, this human baker from another world, standing not behind him but beside him.
She balanced his fire with her steadiness and softened his hardest edges without diminishing an ounce of his power.
He’d never felt incomplete before her. But now, the idea of his old life felt like a hollow echo.
With her, he was whole. And he knew, through the bond, she felt the same.
“You’re thinking too loudly.” Her voice was sleep-rough and muffled against his shoulder. One hand shifted, her palm resting possessively over his bandaged side. “It woke me up.”
A low rumble of laughter escaped him. He turned his head on the pillow, drinking in the sight of her—her hair fanned out, her lips slightly parted, and the morning light gilding her skin.
The connection between them was so profound, so loud in its silence, it was a miracle the entire palace couldn’t feel it.
“My apologies. Your presence tends to… inspire thought.”
She cracked one eye open, a smile playing on her lips. “Dangerous habit for a future king.” She stretched, the movement making the sheet dip. “We need to start planning. The wedding is in two weeks. We have a kingdom to reassure, invitations to send, a cake to design…”
“All in due time.” He caught her wandering hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips. The antique ring he’d placed there two days ago—his mother’s ring—felt like it had always belonged. “The kingdom can wait one more morning. I want to savor my fiancée.”
The word, fiancée, sent a fresh, fierce bolt of possession through him.
His tiger preened. His future stretched before him not as a burden, but as a thrilling landscape to explore with her.
Shared decisions. Shared burdens. Shared victories.
Ruling without her was now not just undesirable, but an impossibility his mind refused to compute.
The sharp, melodic chime of his phone shattered the quiet. Gerri’s name flashed on the screen. He exchanged a glance with Faith, who propped herself up on an elbow, curiosity sharpening her sleep-softened features. He answered, putting it on speaker.
“Good morning! And I do hope I’m speaking to both of you,” Gerri’s voice bubbled through, bright and knowing. “Just checking in. The festival week is technically concluded, and my sources tell me there was some… unforeseen chaos. Is everything resolved?”
Kovrak kept his voice measured. “The challenge has been permanently dealt with. The pride is unified. The Auryx territory stands steady.” He paused, his thumb stroking Faith’s wrist. “The outcome was better than I could have imagined.”
A pleased, humming sound came from the device.
“I do love a happy ending. It’s so much tidier than the alternatives.
” A beat of silence, then her tone shifted to breezy business.
“Which brings me to the practicalities. Faith, darling, your contractual week is up. Are you ready for me to arrange your transport back to Earth? I can have a portal opened within the hour.”
The question landed like a physical weight in the room.
Kovrak’s expression didn’t flicker, but every muscle in his body tightened.
He would chain the suns and moons for her, but he would never cage her choice.
That was the core of it. She had to stay because she wanted to, not because of a mark or a ring.
Faith leaned closer, her fingers threading through his with a certainty that sent a wave of heat through him. Her voice was calm, clear, and carried the unshakable authority of a queen.
“That won’t be necessary, Gerri. I’m not returning to New Jersey.” She held Kovrak’s gaze as she spoke, her brown eyes blazing. “I’m engaged to Kovrak, and we’re fully bonded now. I’m staying on Nova Aurora as his future queen.”
The surge of emotion that roared through Kovrak was so profound, so violent in its intensity, he had to draw a slow, steadying breath.
Pride, triumph, a love so vast it threatened to crack his ribs open—it all flooded the bond, and he saw the answering flush on her skin, felt the quickening of her pulse beneath his thumb.
“Well,” Gerri said, and even through the speaker, they could hear the smug satisfaction in that single word. “That is delightful news. Saves me a trip. What about your bakery, dear? I assume you’ll want to liquidate?”
Kovrak braced for it—the pang of loss, the bittersweet farewell to the dream she’d fought so hard to build. But Faith’s gaze never wavered.
“Actually,” she said, a visionary light in her eyes he’d come to adore, “I want you to use my contract payment to find a new owner. Someone who’ll care for it.
Someone who understands that it’s about…
nourishment. Community. Love made tangible.
I want it to flourish, even if I’m not the one baking there. ”
The breath left Kovrak’s lungs in a soft rush. She wasn’t abandoning her dream; she was transplanting its heart. Ensuring its light would spread, even from light-years away. This was her magic—not destruction, but transformation.
Gerri chuckled, a sound like chimes. “Consider it done, my queen. I know just the person—a lovely young woman with pastry dreams and a heart as big as yours. I’ll work my magic.”
“Thank you, Gerri.”
“My pleasure. I’ll see you both very soon for the wedding.” The call ended with a soft click.
The silence that followed was charged. Kovrak rolled carefully onto his good side, facing her fully. The sunlight caught the deep blue of her ring and the glint of the diamonds.
“My queen,” he murmured, the words a reverent caress against her lips before he kissed her softly. “You were born for this.”
Her smile was a promise. “I was born for this place. The crown is just a… delightful accessory.”
He growled, low and possessive, and claimed her mouth in another kiss that was all heat. When he finally pulled back, his eyes held a predatory glint. “We have two weeks until a wedding that will require us to be… diplomatic.”
Her breath hitched. “And this morning?”
“This morning,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his hand slid beneath the sheet, his thumb tracing the edges of his mate mark, “I am feeling decidedly undiplomatic.”
Kovrak studied the woman beside him. The completed bond was a living current in his veins, a symphony where her contentment was the melody. A slow, deliberate smile spread across his face.
“Plus, our engagement deserves a proper celebration.”
She arched a teasing brow, her gaze drifting to the healing wound on his side. “Does it? And does the patient feel well enough for such… festive activities?”
He brought her palm to his chest, over his heart, letting her feel the strong, steady beat.
“The healers are impressed with my recovery. The bond is working miracles.” He held her gaze, his own turning intense, allowing the alpha certainty to saturate his words.
“Let me be perfectly clear. There is no version of me that would ever be too weak for you.”
A blush painted her face. He didn’t wait for a verbal answer. He saw the answering heat in her eyes.
With a gentleness that belied his building need, he took her hand and drew her from the warm tangle of sheets.
She followed willingly, her bare skin glowing in the dawn light.
He led her across the chamber to the expanse of his bathroom, where the massive shower stood behind a panel of clear, river-smoothed stone.
He released her hand only to turn the engraved silver dials. Water erupted from above and from hidden wall jets, filling the space with a thunderous rush. Steam began to coil, soft and ghostly, blurring the edges of the world until it contained only them.
He drew her under the cascade. The water was perfect—warm and pounding. It sluiced over the tight muscles of his shoulders and her softer curves. He reached for a cake of soap that smelled of cedar and cold mountain air, working it into a lather between his palms.
“Let me,” he murmured.
He started with her shoulders, his strong hands kneading the tension from her muscles. She sighed, her head tipping back, her throat a graceful line he ached to taste.
Her own hands were not idle. She took the soap from him, her touch turning investigative and tender.
Her fingers traced the edges of the sealed wound on his side, a feather-light caress over the pink, healing flesh.
She washed him with a reverence that struck him to his core, her touch saying what words could not.
I see your vulnerability. I cherish your strength. You are mine to care for.
Every brush of her skin against his and every slide of her soapy hands sent pulses of lightning through the mate bond.
It was no longer a quiet hum but a resonant chord, vibrating with a frequency that tuned his entire being to hers.
His restraint, the control he wore like armor, began to dissolve in the steam, melting under the dual assault of her touch and the bond’s imperative.
His hands settled on her hips, pulling her flush against him. The hard proof of his desire for her pressed insistently against her lower belly. Her eyes looked down, dark and dilated.
“Kovrak…”
He silenced her with a kiss. It was not soft or questioning.
It was a claiming, passionate and deep, a mirror of the bond roaring between them.
He poured every ounce of his awe, his triumph, and his love into it.
Her mouth opened for him on a moan, her arms twining around his neck and her wet body aligning with his with a familiarity that felt both sacred and urgent.
The cool, smooth tile met her back as he lifted her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord, locking him to her. The heat of her core seared him even through the pounding water. The sensation was exquisite, a promise and a torment.
Her hand slipped between their bodies, her fingers closing around his hard cock. The feel of her small, strong hand on him, guiding him to her entrance, shattered the last of his control.
He pushed into her, inch by perfect inch. She was so tight, so warm, so his. The mate bond blazed, magnifying every sensation until the pleasure was almost unbearable in its clarity. He felt her inner muscles flutter around him and felt the sharp intake of her breath as he filled her completely.
“Faith,” he growled against her lips.
Her answer was a loud, uninhibited moan that echoed off the stone, a sound of pure pleasure that was the finest music he’d ever heard.
He began to move, setting a slow, deep, deliberate rhythm.
He savored the drag and glide, the way her nails bit into his shoulders, and the broken sighs she breathed into his mouth.
He was drawing out her pleasure, building it with every measured thrust, making her feel every inch of his possession.
“You feel like heaven,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to hers, their breath mingling in the steam. “You feel like home.”
“Kovrak… please.” Her voice was a ragged thread of sound. “Faster. Harder. Don’t be gentle.”
A predatory smile touched his lips. He would obey his queen.
The pace shifted from worship to primal.
His thrusts became powerful, intense pistons, driving into her with a force that had her crying out and her head falling back against the tile.
The water cascaded over them, cool on their heated skin.
The steam thickened, a private cloud holding the symphony of their joining: her gasps, his groans, and the slap of wet skin.
He could feel her pleasure coiling, a tangible tension through the bond, a shimmering wire about to snap. Her inner walls began to clench rhythmically around him.
“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice raw with his own impending release. “Let me feel it. Give it to me.”
She shattered with a sharp cry, her body convulsing around him.
The waves of her climax crashed into him through the bond, a feedback loop of ecstasy that tore his own control to shreds.
Her pleasure was his pleasure, her peak his own trigger.
With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and roared his release, his body shuddering as he spilled his seed deep within her, claiming her in the most primitive way.
For long moments, they clung to each other beneath the cooling spray, hearts hammering a frantic, synchronized rhythm.
He gently lowered her, her legs wobbling, and he held her steady, his arms a fortress around her.
He rested his forehead against hers, breathing her in—soap and the unique, intoxicating scent of her skin and their shared passion.
“The bond,” he murmured, his voice rough with spent emotion. “It will grow stronger. Deeper. More consuming with every day we share.”
She laughed softly, the sound utterly sated. “How could anything be more than that? That was… perfection.”
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his pale blue gaze holding absolute, alpha certainty. “It can. And it will.” He brushed a wet strand of hair from her cheek. “Because our beautiful future has only just begun.”