Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
VIVIENNE HAWTHORNE
M y body is still trembling, still pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure as I press my forehead against the cool stone of the cave wall. My breath is uneven, and my limbs feel heavy, boneless, yet beneath the bliss, something hums beneath my skin.
Something different.
I swallow hard, my fingers uncurling from where they had been gripping the cave wall. Slowly, I look down—and my stomach drops.
A mark glows faintly against my wrist, just beneath the surface of my skin. A delicate, swirling pattern of silver and gold, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
I gasp, turning to look behind me, and when my eyes flick to Orion, I see an identical mark glowing on his wrist as well.
The binding.
My throat tightens. I lift my arm, running trembling fingers over the mark. It feels like mine, like an extension of my own power, and yet—I can feel him there too. A whisper of his energy, his magic. His soul.
Orion shifts beside me, dragging in a slow, measured breath. Finally, he exhales sharply and pulls his cloak from the floor beside him, spreading it out, creating a soft place for us to lay together. A small gesture. A tender one.
He guides me down beside him, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me against him. Warm, solid, safe.
I close my eyes for a moment, sinking into him. Letting myself believe—just for this one breath—that everything is okay. I watch as he pushes himself up onto one elbow, his broad chest still rising and falling with exertion. His dark hair is a mess, his silver-blue eyes too raw, too exposed as he looks at me.
He sees my mark. His jaw clenches. He already knows.
Neither of us speak for a long moment. The only sound is our breathing, the lingering echo of what we just did still pressing into the silence around us.
Then, his voice comes, low, rough.
“There’s no undoing this,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing over my binding mark. Soft, reverent.
I know.
And I don’t want to.
I press my palm against his chest, feeling the slow thud of his heart beneath my fingers. “This was always going to happen,” I whisper.
He lets out a short, hollow laugh, shaking his head. “You have no idea what we’ve just done.”
I do.
I understand perfectly.
I lift my head to look at him, searching his face, memorizing every sharp, beautiful, broken part of him.
“You love me.” The words come out soft, sure.
His eyes darken, something raw and painful flashing across his face.
“Yes,” he breathes. “I do.”
A sharp ache lances through my chest.
I lift my hand, cupping his jaw, letting my thumb brush against the stubble lining his cheek. “I love you too.”
He closes his eyes like the words physically hit him.
Then, softer, “I always have.”
His arms tighten around me, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away, disappear.
But I’m not going anywhere.
I tilt my chin up, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss.
It’s different this time. Not frantic. Not desperate.
Just us.
When we part, his forehead rests against mine, his breath shaky.
Then, his voice drops to something heavy, something final.
“I’ve defied them before,” he murmurs, “but this...this is more than defiance.” He exhales sharply. “They will come for us.”
A cold weight settles in my stomach, but I refuse to be afraid.
“Then we run,” I say simply.
His jaw tightens. “Vivienne?—”
“No.” I shake my head, determined. “We run, Orion. We fight. We find a way. There is no life for me without you.”
His fingers press into my waist.
His eyes—gods, his eyes—so fierce, so conflicted.
“I don’t know if there is running from this,” he says quietly.
I reach for his hand, lacing my fingers with his, pressing our matching marks together.
“There’s only one way to find out.”