Chapter 15 Cadeon
Cadeon
The sitting room is warm with firelight and the lingering magic of the evening.
I guide Iris to the sofa, her hands trembling in mine. The clock on the mantle ticks steadily toward midnight, but I am not watching it. I am watching her.
She is terrified.
Not of me. Never of me, not anymore. She is terrified of the same thing she has been terrified of her entire life: being seen. Being known. Being held instead of being the one who holds.
"Sit," I tell her gently, and she sinks onto the cushions like her strings have been cut.
I kneel before her. Not in submission this time, though the position is the same. This is worship. This is choice.
"Iris." I take her hands, press them flat against my chest where my heart would beat if I were still alive. "Look at me."
Her eyes meet mine, wide and bright with unshed tears. "I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?"
"Let go." Her voice cracks. "I've spent my whole life being strong. Being capable. Proving I didn't need anyone, that I was enough on my own. And now the magic is asking me to admit that I'm not. That I need you. That I'm incomplete without you."
"Is that so terrible? Needing someone?"
"It feels like dying." She laughs, but there is no humor in it. "Which is ridiculous, because I love you. I trust you. I know you won't hurt me. But the thought of letting go, of surrendering control, of admitting I can't do this alone..."
"You've never had to do anything alone. You simply convinced yourself you did." I bring her hands to my lips, kiss each knuckle. "But I am here now. And I am not going anywhere."
"What if I can't do it? What if I try to surrender and I fail and the bond breaks anyway?"
"Then we will face that together."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it is true." I shift closer, my knees between her feet, my face level with hers.
"Iris. My love. My heart. You have spent weeks teaching me that I am allowed to want things.
That I am allowed to choose. That I am a person, not a weapon.
" I cup her face in my hands. "Now let me teach you something. "
"What?"
"That you are allowed to be held. That needing someone is not weakness. That surrender is not defeat." I brush my thumb across her cheekbone, catching a tear that has escaped. "You have carried so much for so long. Let me carry you for a while."
The clock strikes eleven fifty.
Ten minutes.
"I don't know how," she whispers.
"Then I will show you." I lean in, press my forehead to hers. "Trust me. Just for tonight, trust me to hold you. Trust me to catch you if you fall. Trust me to love you exactly as you are, incomplete and afraid and desperately trying to control something that cannot be controlled."
"That's a lot of trust."
"You have given me more." I kiss her gently, barely a brush of lips. "You looked at a weapon and saw a man. You looked at two centuries of damage and saw something worth saving. You gave me back myself, Iris. Let me give you the same gift."
She is trembling. I can feel it through the bond, through my hands on her face, through the small space between us. Fear and hope and love, tangled together so tightly she cannot tell them apart.
"Okay," she breathes. "Okay. Show me."
I kiss her.
This is a claiming kiss, a promise kiss, a kiss that says you are mine and I am yours and nothing will change that. She gasps against my mouth, and I swallow the sound, pulling her closer until she is nearly in my lap.
"Let me take care of you," I murmur against her lips. "Let me make you feel good. Let me show you what it means to be held."
"Yes." The word is barely audible. "Yes, please."
I stand, lifting her with me. She wraps her legs around my waist instinctively, her arms around my neck, and I carry her not to the bedroom but to the thick rug before the fire. This is where we belong tonight. In the heart of the home she has made. In the warmth she has created.
I lay her down gently, reverently, and take a moment just to look at her.
The firelight turns her skin to gold. Her hair spreads across the rug like dark water. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her lips parted, her eyes fixed on me with a vulnerability that makes my chest ache.
She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
"I love you," I tell her, because she needs to hear it. Because I need to say it. "I have loved you since you left tea outside my door. Since you sat with me through my nightmares. Since you looked at me and saw something worth saving."
"Cadeon..."
"Let me worship you." I lower myself over her, bracing on my forearms. "Let me show you what you deserve."
I kiss her again, deeper this time, my tongue sliding against hers. She moans into my mouth, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. I can feel her need through the bond, sharp and desperate, but underneath it is still that fear. That wall she has built around herself.
I need to break it down. Gently. Lovingly. One brick at a time.
I trail kisses down her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat where her pulse flutters. My fingers find the fastenings of her formal gown, working them open slowly.
"Tell me what you need," I murmur against her skin.
"I don't know."
"Then tell me what you feel."
"Scared." Her voice breaks. "And safe. And desperate. And loved. And terrified that I'm going to mess this up."
"You won't." I peel the gown away from her shoulders, revealing bare skin beneath. No chemise tonight. She dressed for this, even if she didn't know it. "You cannot mess this up, Iris. This is not a test. This is just us, choosing each other."
"The magic—"
"The magic will do what it does. Our only task is to be honest." I press a kiss to her collarbone. "Can you be honest with me?"
"I'm trying."
"Try harder." I look up at her, holding her gaze as my hand slides down her side, over her hip, gathering the fabric of her skirt. "Tell me what you really need. Not what you think you should need. What you actually, desperately need."
Her breath catches. I watch her struggle with the answer. Watch her fight against decades of conditioning that tell her needing things is weakness.
"You," she finally whispers. "I need you. I need you to hold me and touch me and make me feel like I'm not falling apart. I need to not be in control for once. I need..." She squeezes her eyes shut. "I need you to take care of me. And I hate that I need it. I hate that I can't just be strong."
"Needing is not weakness." I strip her gown the rest of the way off, leaving her bare beneath me. "Needing is human. And you are allowed to be human, Iris. You are allowed to need things. You are allowed to need me."
The clock strikes eleven fifty-five.
Five minutes.
I can feel the magic building in the air, thick and expectant. The bond between us pulses, gossamer-thin but alive. Waiting. Watching.
"I need you inside me," she breathes, and the admission costs her something. I can see it in her face, feel it through the bond. She is giving me a piece of herself she has never given anyone.
"Then you shall have me." I sit back, pulling my shirt over my head, unfastening my trousers. Her eyes track my movements, hungry and afraid and desperately hopeful.
When I am bare, I lower myself over her again. Skin to skin. The heat of her against the cool of me. The bond singing between us.
"Look at me," I tell her. "Don't close your eyes. Stay with me."
She nods, her gaze locked on mine.
I reach between us, find her slick and ready. She gasps when my fingers slide through her folds, her hips jerking up against my hand.
"So wet," I murmur. "So perfect. You want this."
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I want this. I want you." Her voice is steadier now. Surer. "Please, Cadeon. Please."
I position myself at her entrance and pause. The clock ticks toward midnight. The fire crackles. The magic holds its breath.
"I love you," I tell her again. "I choose you. Now and always."
"I love you too." Her hand comes up to cup my face. "I choose you. I need you. I'm yours."
I push inside her.
She cries out, her back arching, her nails digging into my shoulders. The sensation is overwhelming. Tight heat surrounding me, the bond flaring bright between us, her pleasure and mine tangling together until I cannot tell where I end and she begins.
"Oh god," she gasps. "I can feel you. Everything you're feeling, I can—"
"I know." I pull back slowly, thrust in again. "I feel you too. It's the bond. It's us."
I set a slow rhythm, wanting to draw this out, wanting to give her time to adjust. But she is having none of it. Her hips rise to meet mine, demanding more, and through the bond I feel her desperation.
More. Harder. Please.
I give her what she needs.
My thrusts become faster, deeper. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, and the angle changes, makes her cry out with every stroke. I can feel her building toward climax, can feel my own orgasm coiling at the base of my spine.
"Let go," I tell her. "Stop trying to control it. Just feel."
"I can't—"
"You can." I grip her hip with one hand, tilt her pelvis, and on the next thrust I hit something inside her that makes her scream. "Let go, Iris. I have you. I'm not going anywhere."
The clock begins to strike midnight.
One chime. Two.
"I'm scared," she gasps.
"I know." Three chimes. Four. "I'm here."
"I need—"
"Tell me."
Five chimes. Six.
"I need you to hold me." The words pour out of her, broken and raw. "I need you to love me. I need to stop being strong and just let someone take care of me for once. I need you, Cadeon. I need you so much it terrifies me."
Seven chimes. Eight.
"I have you." I thrust deeper, harder. "I love you. I'm holding you. You're safe."
Nine chimes. Ten.
"Don't let go."
"Never." Eleven. "Never, Iris. You're mine. I'm yours. Forever."
Twelve.
The bond explodes.