Chapter 27 #2
As the council disperses, I linger. The dossier from Ink weighs in my coat. But tonight it’s not for tearing down—it’s ledger of trust earned. Aebon doesn’t need me to be weak. He needs me to be equal.
I leave the chamber and approach my transport—armed escort waiting low in rumble, starlight sheen overhead.
Before I climb aboard, I pause and glance back at the penthouse—at the window where her silhouette lingers. She remains silent, but I read the message swinging in her posture: Be safe. Come home.
I clench my jaw. “I will,” I mutter, though part of my soul quivers against the departure.
The transport hums to life. I step in and settle, voice low to the pilot: “To the eastern ring. Sweep ops.”
He nods. The hatch closes, sealing me in.
Now, all I feel is the hum of engines and purpose hammering through metal suits. I sit rigid, the dossier in my coat brushing against my ribs—like a memory I must not forget.
I picture Aria’s face: fierce, worried, more powerful than most gods I’ve worshiped.
If this is our final embrace before fire, so be it.
I steel myself.
Because if we built it, we must stand it—or watch it burn.
And I will not let that happen.
I ride into the neon night, every bone in my body aching to return to her.
But first—I must fight.
I land hard on the platform, boots thudding against cracked concrete.
The scent of ozone and spilled coolant hangs in the air, and my bones ache from the fight.
A dozen Nar’Vosk rebels litter the ground, their weapons shattered, their resolve broken.
I stagger forward, my thigh pulsing with pain, each step lurching like a wounded beast. But I’m alive.
In the center, Goh’Vak lies prostrate, secured by sentinel drones and battlefield nets.
His breathing is shallow, but life persists in his ruined chest. I lean against a steel column, drawing a ragged breath—lungs burning, blood slick beneath my ribs where a blade cut close. But I’m whole enough to rise again.
The deafening silence that follows slashes through me—no cheers, no hiss of radio, just survivors and swift tidal guns humming low. I feel the weight of my pack, the burn of bone-spurs ready to coil. The air tastes of scorched armor and charged metal.
My comm chimes. Two words: “Return now.” Aria’s voice—urgent, trembling. My chest tightens at the sound of her fear.
I stagger onto the transport, trembling, half-carrying myself into the cabin. My vision rides a tightrope of light and shadow. But even wounded, I am aware: I am returning to her.
His body’s trembling. Blood still trickles from the wound, but he won’t let the drones near him anymore—not with me in the room. His hand grips my wrist tight, not with desperation, but with something primal. Something anchoring.
“You almost died,” I whisper. My voice is sandpaper and fire. “You stupid, beautiful idiot.”
“I told you,” Aebon rasps, his breath fanning my cheek, “never without you.”
The words crack something deep in me. All the anger, the fear, the impossible longing—it erupts.
I kiss him.
Hard. Hungry. No hesitation. No decorum. My lips crush his. I taste blood and something older, deeper. His mouth answers with savage grace—his teeth tug my bottom lip, his tongue pressing in to claim. His hand cups my cheek, fingers trembling slightly.
I straddle him where he sits on the throne-like couch. His body is heat and bone, his massive form folding around me like armor. My hips grind down instinctively, and I gasp when I feel him—thick, hard, already pulsing beneath his pants.
“You’re bleeding,” I murmur against his lips.
“I don’t care,” he growls. “I need you. Now.”
My blouse is gone in seconds—his claws slicing delicately through the fabric. His large hands find my breasts, warm palms swallowing the curve of them. His thumbs brush my nipples, and I moan.
“Fuck, Aria,” he breathes. “Your nipples—so fucking soft. You feel like sin.”
I rock against him, my pussy already slick. The fabric of my pants rubs perfectly over my clit as he pinches one nipple and then the other. I whimper into his mouth, clutching his shoulders.
He breaks the kiss and buries his face between my breasts, inhaling deep like I’m the only air he needs. His tongue licks a hot path across my sternum, then sucks one nipple into his mouth. I arch against him, thighs trembling.
“More,” I beg.
He growls—a sound so feral it vibrates through my core. He lifts me easily, hands firm on my ass, and lays me down across the couch. In a fluid motion, he rips my pants down my legs and spreads them wide.
“Fuck,” he whispers, staring at my pussy like it’s holy. “So wet. So perfect.”
I watch him slide to his knees between my thighs. He licks me once—slow, from pussy to clit—and my entire body jerks.
“Oh my god—” I gasp.
He smiles against me, lips already slick with me. “You taste like salvation.”
His tongue flicks my clit, circles it, teases. Then he sucks it, and I scream. His hands hold my thighs down as he devours me—slow, methodical, worshipful. He flicks his tongue in maddening patterns, sometimes soft, sometimes hard.
I’m unraveling.
“Please, Aebon—fuck—please!”
He doesn’t stop. One thick finger pushes into me, then another. He fucks me with his fingers while his mouth never leaves my clit. My hips buck wildly. I can’t think. Can’t breathe.
When I come, it hits like a plasma blast.
I scream his name, legs shaking, pussy clenching hard around his fingers.
He doesn’t move until I whimper, until the aftershocks leave me panting. Only then does he rise, looming over me, pupils blown wide and cock straining against his pants.
“I need to be inside you,” he growls.
I nod, still breathless. “Do it. Now.”
He strips fast—black pants and bloodstained bandages falling away. His cock is thick, long, almost frightening. Veined, ridged near the base, glistening with precum.
“You sure?” he asks, voice dark and reverent.
“I want it,” I whisper. “I want all of you.”
He lines up, tip pressing into my entrance.
The stretch is exquisite. My pussy clenches around him inch by inch as he pushes inside. He’s too big—but he goes slow, pausing, letting me adjust.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growls. “So tight. So warm. Gods, Aria—”
When he bottoms out, we both gasp.
He doesn’t move. Just looks down at me, eyes blazing.
“Say it,” he whispers.
“I’m yours,” I breathe. “I’ve always been yours.”
That breaks him.
He starts to move—slow at first, long, deep strokes that leave me gasping. My fingers clutch at his back, nails dragging across his skin. He groans, hips slamming into mine harder now.
The sound of flesh on flesh fills the chamber. Each thrust punches moans from my lips. He hits every spot, every nerve, every fire.
“You were made for me,” he grits out. “This pussy—fuck—it’s mine.”
“Yes,” I cry. “Yes, it’s yours. Always.”
He shifts, lifting one of my legs over his shoulder. The angle is devastating. His cock drives deep, brushing my cervix, and I scream.
“That’s it,” he growls. “Take it. Let me break you.”
I’m gone—writhing beneath him, cunt soaked and clenching. His thumb finds my clit again, and with one rub, I explode.
The orgasm rips through me. I scream, body seizing. He never stops.
He fucks me through it—pounding harder now, rougher. His hands dig into my hips.
“Come for me again,” he commands.
I do. Minutes later, still sensitive, I shatter again—this time sobbing.
“I can’t—Aebon—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he growls. “You’re mine. You take all of me.”
He pulls out and flips me—strong arms moving me like nothing. I’m on all fours before I can blink. He slams back in from behind, and I cry out.
His cock drives into me, thick and perfect. One hand fists in my hair, the other slaps my ass.
“You like that?” he snarls.
“Yes! Gods, yes!”
He fucks me brutally now—fast, deep, merciless. My pussy milks him, slick and clenching. He grunts, thrusts faltering.
“I’m gonna come,” he gasps. “Where do you want it?”
“Inside,” I beg. “Fill me.”
His roar shakes the walls. He slams deep and stays there—cock twitching, filling me with heat. I feel every pulse.
We collapse—sweating, gasping, shaking.
He wraps his arms around me. Our breath syncs. My fingers trace the bone ridges on his chest.
“That was—” I start.
He kisses my forehead. “Everything.”