37. She Called Me Ash
she called me ash
“I’m going to help you,” she whispers, kneeling in front of me.
“How?” I rasp. “I feel unstable, Eden. I’m losing chunks of time. The other half of my soul has gone silent.”
She studies my face. “Show me.”
“What?”
“You’re afraid you can’t control yourself without Ashán.” She reaches down, wrapping her fingers around one of the vines coiled around my wrist. “Maybe what Ashán needs is for you to free your mind. Maybe the dream dust had a different effect on him.”
Vines begin to crawl up my arms, across my chest, looping around my throat.
“Sage, your vines are…”
“I know.” My breath begins to steady as they tighten around my neck. “I don’t know what’s happening. But I think my body knows what I need.”
One of the vines splits from the collar forming at my throat, trailing down between us like a tether—like a leash.
She stares at it with wide eyes.
“Your magic is making a collar,” she whispers.
I swallow hard, feeling the vines shift against my throat. “I didn’t tell it to.”
“Then why?”
I meet her eyes, and the truth sits heavily in my chest.
“Because I need it,” I rasp. “I can’t control my mind, Eden. I can’t bring Ashán back on my own.”
I glance down at the vine-leash hanging between us. My fingers tremble as I grab it.
“I need you to take this from me.” I hold it out to her. “Please. I need you in control. I need to stop thinking, and maybe he’ll come back. I just need to be—”
I squeeze the leash in my palm.
“I need to be yours.”
She stares at my outstretched hand, not saying anything for a few seconds. And then her fingers close around it.
The vine pulses warmly between us, and the collar tightens in response to her touch.
“Sage, if I take this… if I do what you’re asking, I need to know that you’re not doing this to punish yourself.”
“I’m not. I swear.” I wrap my arms around her hips. “I need you to be the one making decisions, so I can just let go.”
She searches my face. Her worry bleeds through the bond.
“Eden, I’m eight feet tall, and one of my thighs is bigger than your waist. If I didn’t want this… If I didn’t need this, I could stop it at any time.”
The truth of that settles between us.
She’s not taking my power. I’m giving it to her.
“Okay,” she says softly. She wraps the leash around her hand once, securing her grip. “But if this stops feeling right, you tell me. I’m doing this to help you, not hurt you.”
“You could hurt me, Saevúra, and I’d beg for more.” I press a kiss to her forehead and send all my need down the bond, hoping she feels the sincerity and trust I have for her.
She rises to her feet. Even on my knees, I still loom over her, so I ease back onto my heels, lowering myself for her.
Her free hand slides into my hair, fingers threading through the strands at my scalp. She applies gentle pressure, tipping my chin down until I’m looking into her eyes.
I go still beneath her touch.
“Sage,” she says breathlessly. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” I rasp.
“That’s it.” Her thumb strokes over my jawline. “Just relax into my touch. You don’t have to think about anything else right now.”
I exhale, feeling the tension bleed out of my shoulders. I focus on her hand in my hair, how warm and steady it is.
“Close your eyes, Vaelí,” she murmurs.
I do.
“Perfect.” Her thumb traces my cheekbone. “But I think you need one more thing.”
“What?” I whisper.
“A blindfold.” Her fingers tighten gently in my hair. “So you can shut out everything else and just focus on my voice.”
My throat works against the vine collar.
I reach up and pull a thin vine free from the collar.
It’s soft as velvet and cool to the touch, winding its way upward until the broad, silken leaves settle over my eyes.
As it weaves through my hair and ties itself at the back of my head, the world goes silent.
The static of the meadow, the lingering hiss of Therael’s curse, and even the thrumming of my own wings all fade into the background.
There is only the sound of Eden’s heartbeat and the weight of her hands.
“There,” she whispers, the vibration of her words settling across my skin. “Now it’s just us. No ghosts. No gods. Just me.”
My world narrows to the smell of her skin, peony and honey.
Her fingers trace the line of my throat, just above the collar, where my pulse is jumping.
“I want you to focus on something for me,” she says. “Can you feel my heartbeat?”
She takes my hand and guides it to her chest, pressing my palm flat against her sternum.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
“Right here, Sage,” she whispers. “Do you feel it?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“My heart beats for you.” Her hand covers mine, holding it in place. “And as long as you can feel it, you aren’t lost.”
The rhythm of her heart pulses against my palm.
“í amar thé, Saevúra.”
Her lips graze the edge of the blindfold. The sensation shoots a bolt of electricity through my body.
“Where do you want me to touch you?” She gives a sudden tug on the leash, and my breath hitches.
Vresh.
“Wherever you want,” I rasp. “I am neeth. Just please… touch me.”
I wait, my breath coming in shallow hitches. The meadow’s silence is agonizing. Every rustle of the grass feels like an explosion against my heightened senses.
She slides her palms up my thighs. The friction of her skin against mine makes the muscles in my legs jump and twitch.
“You’re shaking,” she whispers.
“I’m starving,” I confess, my wings flaring instinctively. “Your touch is the only light I have left.”
I hear the whisper of fabric, something soft sliding against skin. Her weight shifts as she climbs into my lap, her thighs sliding over mine as she settles on top of me.
She’s naked, her heat pressing directly against me.
“Shá,” I choke out. I can feel her pulsing against my vék.
My hands wrap around her hips. She trails kisses down the column of my throat, giving my Adam’s apple extra attention.
With every kiss, her wet heat glides over the crown of my cock, pulling away before I can process the sensation.
It’s torture. And I hope it never stops.
My fingers dig into her hips. “Eden.”
“Mm?” She kisses just below my ear, and I feel her smile against my skin as she rocks forward with another maddening brush of her lavína.
“Please,” I choke out. “I need—”
“What do you need, Sage?”
“You,” I gasp. “I need to be inside you. Please.”
Her fingers slip inside the back of the collar, pulling until my head is tipped all the way back. My hair tickles the back of my calves as my throat is pulled into a taut line.
“I wish you could see how beautiful you look like this,” she whispers, her warm breath fanning over my neck.
“Eden. Please. I’ll stay just like this, on my knees. Just let me in. Let me feel you. Please, I need it so bad I’m shaking.”
Her fingers tighten in my collar until I whimper.
“I want that too,” she whispers, her hips rolling forward, dragging along the full length of my shaft.
Vresh yes—
“As soon as I can hear from Ashán.”
I go still, the slick sound of her still echoing in my mind.
No. No, no, no—
Ashán, please. I need you. She needs you.
He doesn’t answer. Just silence and the thud of my own heart.
“I’m trying, Eden.” I position myself at her entrance. “Use me. Ride me. Just let me be inside you. I’ll give you everything. I’ll fill you until you’re dripping, until your belly swells again with every drop. Please, Eden, I’m begging—let me in.”
My vék twitches hard, pre-come sliding down my shaft as I hold myself right at the threshold, desperate and obedient, waiting for her to decide I’ve earned it.
She lets go of the collar for a split second, and I feel the sudden, terrifying lack of her grip.
Behind the leaves of the blindfold, the emptiness breaks into a snarl of familiar, predatory weight settling back into my bones.
Mine, a voice rasps from the back of my mind. She is MINE.
My wings wrap around her, the left side of my body erupting into vorí. Our hands move without thought, clawing at the blindfold. The vines resist for half a heartbeat before I tear them away.
“Need to see you,” he groans. “Was trying so hard to come back to you.”
He doesn’t wait. His hand slides between us, positioning himself at her entrance, and then he’s pushing inside with a broken growl. His girth swells in place of mine, the bone cage rising through our shared length sluggishly one rib at a time.
“You told me—”
He thrusts deeper, filling her completely.
“—if I came back to you—”
Another thrust.
She gasps. Her nails dig into our shoulders as he bottoms out.
“I could have you.”
“Ashán,” she gasps.
“Ash’kaela,” he rasps. “Ním.”
He moves slowly inside her, his skal flexing in weak waves as she rolls her hips down onto him. Venya seeps from every segment, thin at first, slow as sap in winter. Her breath turns slow and golden as it reaches her bloodstream. Even half-emptied and wrecked, his body still makes its offering.
“Couldn’t find you,” he chokes out between thrusts. “Tried—couldn’t—”
His forehead drops to her shoulder.
“Couldn’t find him.” His voice cracks. “It was so dark.”
Her hand slides back to the collar, fingers curling around the vines at his throat.
“I’ve got you,” she whispers. “You’re here now. Both of you.”
“Pull it,” he rasps desperately. “Please. Need to feel—pull harder—”
She tightens her grip on the collar, pulling until he can barely breathe.
He moans in response, and his relief melds with my own. There is no word in any of my languages for being held down, held open, and held together, all by the same small hands.
“More,” he rasps against her throat. “Need more—”
The vines around my throat shift, the smooth texture hardening until thorns erupt along the edges. They press into our skin with each pull of Eden’s hand.
Eden’s eyes widen, her grip loosening slightly on the collar. “Ashán—”
“Don’t stop,” he gasps. “Pull—please.”
She hesitates for a moment, worry bleeding back into the bond. He covers her hand and squeezes, the thorns biting deeper.
Perfect, he purrs in our mind.
You came back.
Couldn’t leave you, Ashán responds. Couldn’t leave her.
Eden’s hand tightens on the collar again, reassured by his guidance, and he groans as the thorns push his pleasure further.
His pace picks up.
“Ashán—” She whimpers, but his name breaks as he thrusts harder. “Ash—Ash—Ash—”
Ash, he echoes in our mind. She called me Ash.
“Say it again,” he rasps against her throat, his hips snapping upward. “Please say it.”
“Ash,” she moans.
His rhythm falters, becoming erratic.
“Close,” he groans. “So close. Need—”
Her nails rake down his back, over bone and flesh as she tightens around us.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps. “Ash, please don’t—”
Never, Ashán thinks, and I feel the promise in every cell of our shared body. Never stopping. Never leaving.
His hand slides between us, finding where we’re joined, and—
“Vresh,” he chokes out as his fingers rub over her clit.
She arches into us with a broken cry.
“That’s it, ash’kaela,” he rasps, circling slowly even as his hips drive forward faster. “Feel me, soulbond. Feel us.”
She’s close, I murmur.
So close, he agrees. But not yet. Not without us.
“Ash,” she whimpers, her fingers tangling in our hair. “I need—”
“I know.” His voice cracks. “I know what you need.”
His fingers press harder against her swollen clit, rubbing in tight circles while his cock drives into her. Eden’s thighs shake around our hips as the thorns bite deeper into our throat, each pulse of pain feeding straight into the pleasure that surges through the bond.
“Come with me,” he begs against her mouth. “Please, ash’kaela. Together—”
She yanks on the collar unconsciously, and our cock flickers between his form and mine—skal and velásira trading places with every thrust, both of us inside her at once and in turns.
“Don’t let me go again,” he groans. “Whatever happens. Use the leash. Pull me back. I will always come back for you.”
She pulls the collar harder, her other hand cradling our face, bone and flesh both.
“Always,” she gasps. “I’ll always pull you back, Ash.”
His rhythm shatters. He growls against her mouth, our tongue pushing past her lips as our hips snap upward in erratic thrusts. His fingers never stop moving on her clit, slick with valúsha as he works her closer to the edge.
“ílyara.”
“Ash’kaela.”
Our release slams through us, Ashán’s possessive growl mixing with my broken moan as we spill inside her. Hot pulses of come flood her lavína, tipping her over the edge.
“Ash—Sage—” She moans our names as she shatters around us, her walls clenching so tightly it borders on painful.
My magic surges forward, and the bloom collar at the base of my vék swells.
Petals unfurl, seeking her heat. They press past her entrance one silken layer at a time until the entire bloom-collar forces its way inside and expands.
Shá, was that you?
Your magic, not mine, Ashán rumbles.
Eden gasps. Her body clenches around us as she realizes we can’t pull out.
“Sage?” Her hand slides to where we’re connected, fingers brushing the petals locking us inside. “This didn’t happen before.”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Your body knows, Ashán rasps.
I feel the truth of it in every fiber of my being. My magic is ensuring she keeps every drop.
“Does it hurt?” she asks.
“No,” we both answer immediately.
You should take over, he murmurs. I’m fading.
Rest. I’ve got us, I tell him. I don’t know how long we’ll be like this.
“We need to move,” I whisper. “I want to get you comfortable.”
Eden nods, and together we shift until I’m sitting back against the nearest tree, and she’s in my lap, chest to chest, her legs wrapped around my waist.
“Okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “This is—yeah.”
Why does she sound like that? Ashán mumbles.
The petals at the base of my lím begin to warm.
Nevermind. That’s why, he answers.
Eden gasps, and her head falls to my shoulder as broken moans fall from her lips.
“Eden?”
Luvé-shá, he groans. She’s milking me so hard. (Holy shit)
“I can’t—” She clenches around us.
She’s going to keep doing this, I realize.
“Eden, breathe,” I rasp, my thumbs tracing soothing circles over her hipbones. “I’ve got you. Just breathe through it.”
Breathe through it? Ashán mocks. She’s convulsing on our dick, and you’re telling her to brEATHE. Help her, you idiot!
I don’t know why I was worried when you were gone, I sigh. We’re locked inside her.
So? Rock your hips. Give her something to grind against. Don’t just sit there like a—
I roll my hips upward as far as I can manage, and Eden cries out. Her nails grasp desperately at the collar.
“There,” I murmur against her hair. “Does that help, ílyen?”
“Yes,” she moans, chasing the friction. “Don’t stop, please don’t—”
See? Ashán’s smug voice echoes in my mind. Listen to me more often.
You’re insufferable.
And you’re welcome.