Chapter 20
TWENTY
ZYPHON
Ilift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist.
The heat of her presses against my stomach as I carry her to the bed. I lay her down on the sheets and follow her down, settling between her thighs, my mouth finding hers again. She arches beneath me, her breasts pressing against my chest, her hips rocking up to meet mine.
I pull back to look at her—hair spread across my pillow, lips swollen from my kisses, chest heaving with ragged breaths. Her eyes are dark with want, her skin flushed, her body open and waiting.
“I’m going to take my time with you.” I lower my head to her breast, closing my mouth over one peaked nipple. She gasps, her back bowing off the bed. “I’m going to make you feel so good, you forget everything except my name.”
I worship her breasts with my mouth—licking, sucking, biting gently until she’s writhing beneath me, incoherent sounds spilling from her lips. Then I kiss my way down her stomach, feeling her muscles clench beneath my mouth, feeling her breath catch as I move lower.
“Zyphon—“ Her voice breaks when I settle between her thighs. “Oh gods—“
I spread her open with my thumbs and lick a long, slow stripe through her center. She tastes like fire and honey, and the sound she makes—desperate, broken, needy—is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
I devour her. There’s no other word for it.
Licking into her heat, sucking her clit, fucking her with my tongue while she writhes and moans above me.
Her thighs clamp around my head. Her fingers grip my hair hard enough to sting.
And when I slide two fingers inside her, crooking them to find the spot that makes her scream—
She shatters. Her whole body convulses, her walls clenching around my fingers, her voice breaking on my name. I work her through it, gentling my touch as she trembles, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs while she comes down.
“That was—“ She can barely form words. “I can’t—“
“We’re not done.” I crawl back up her body, positioning myself at her entrance. I’m so hard it hurts, my cock throbbing with the need to be inside her. “Not even close.”
I push into her slowly, giving her time to adjust. She’s so wet, so tight, so fucking perfect that I have to stop halfway and breathe through the urge to slam home. Her hands grip my shoulders, her legs wrap around my waist, and when I finally sink all the way in—
Her fire erupts.
Shadow-flame pours from her skin, not burning but warming, wrapping around us both in ribbons of dark light. My shadows rise to meet it, curling around her fire, threading through it, the two powers tangling in the space between our bodies.
“Move.” She digs her heels into my ass, urging me deeper. “Zyphon, please, I need—“
I give her what she needs.
I pull out and thrust back in, setting a rhythm that’s anything but gentle. Hard and deep and relentless, the way I’ve fantasized. She meets me stroke for stroke, her hips rising to take me deeper, her nails raking down my back hard enough to draw blood.
The pleasure builds between us, inexorable. Our powers tangle and surge in time with our bodies, shadow and flame moving together, amplifying every sensation until I can barely tell where I end and she begins.
“Harder.” She bites my shoulder, and the sting of pain mixes with pleasure until I can’t separate them. “Fuck me harder.”
I flip her over, pulling her hips up, and drive into her from behind. She cries out, fisting the sheets, pushing back to meet each thrust. The new angle lets me go deeper, hit spots that make her whole body shake.
“Touch yourself.” My voice comes out rough, commanding. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
She reaches between her legs, and I watch her fingers work her clit while I pound into her. The sight nearly undoes me—her body arched in pleasure, her fire blazing, her moans filling the room.
When she comes this time, it’s with a scream that echoes off the walls.
Her body clamps down on mine, pulsing and squeezing, and the sensation drags me over the edge with her.
I bury myself to the hilt and let go, spilling inside her while our combined powers explode around us in a storm of shadow and flame.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our breathing and the fading glow of magic against my walls.
She doesn’t leave.
I half expected her to—to gather her shift, to mumble something about this being a mistake, to retreat to her own chambers and the safety of distance. But instead, she curls against my side, her head on my chest, her breath warm against my skin.
My arm wraps around her without conscious direction.
My shadows follow, curling around us both, creating a cocoon of darkness that feels less like a cage and more like a shelter.
Her fire responds, a gentle warmth that seeps into my bones and eases aches I’ve carried for so long, I’d forgotten they existed.
“I should probably say something meaningful.” Her voice is drowsy, satisfied. “But my brain isn’t working properly right now.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“Good. Because I’m fairly certain I’ve forgotten how words work.” She tilts her head up to look at me, and there’s something soft in her expression that makes my chest ache. “Is it always like that? The fire and the shadows?”
“I don’t know.” The honest answer. “It’s never happened before. Not with anyone else.”
“There were others?”
“A few. Over the centuries. Nothing that lasted. Nothing that mattered.” I brush a strand of hair from her face, marveling at the simple pleasure of being allowed to touch her. “They weren’t you.”
“No.” She settles back against my chest, her fire quieting to a gentle warmth. “I suppose they weren’t.”
Silence falls, comfortable and warm. Her breathing slows. Her body relaxes against mine, the tension she carries bleeding away moment by moment.
“Zyphon?”
“Mmm?”
“I don’t want to go back to my room tonight.”
“Then don’t.” I press a kiss to her hair. “Stay.”
Her eyes drift closed. Her breathing deepens. And slowly, gradually, she falls asleep in my arms.
I don’t sleep.
Instead, I watch her. The way the moonlight plays across her features. The way her lips part slightly with each breath. The way her fire flickers beneath her skin, even in sleep, a constant reminder of the power she carries.
She’s beautiful. She’s always been beautiful—death hasn’t changed that. But there’s something different about seeing her here, in my bed, her body warm and trusting against mine. Something that makes the shadows inside me settle in ways they haven’t in centuries.
This isn’t claiming. Neither of us is ready for that permanence—the bond that would tie us for eternity, the marks that would appear on our skin. That’s a conversation for another time, when she’s had a chance to remember who she was and decide who she wants to become.
But this is something. A beginning. A crack in the walls we’ve both been building.
For the first time since her resurrection, she’s sleeping without nightmares. I can tell by the peace in her expression, the steady rhythm of her breathing. No thrashing. No screaming. No shadow-flame erupting uncontrolled.
Just rest. True, deep, peaceful rest.
The hours pass. The moon travels across the sky. And I hold her, watching her breathe, afraid to close my eyes.
Because I’ve wanted things before. Happiness. Peace. Her. And every time, the wanting has been followed by loss. By grief. By centuries of darkness and the knowledge that I wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t good enough to keep what I loved.
If I close my eyes now, she might vanish. This moment might vanish. And I’ll wake to find myself alone again, reaching for someone who isn’t there.
So I don’t close my eyes.
I watch her until dawn breaks over the mountains, painting the sky in shades of rose and gold. Watch her stir, stretch, blink awake with confusion that melts into something softer when she sees my face.
“You didn’t sleep.” Not a question.
“I didn’t want to miss this.”
She doesn’t ask what I mean. Just reaches up to touch my face, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, the curve of my cheekbone, the corner of my mouth.
“I slept,” she says quietly. “Really slept. No nightmares. No fire. Just peace.”
“Good.”
“It’s because of you.” She holds my gaze, and there’s something in her expression I’m afraid to name. “Whatever this is between us—whatever we’re becoming—it makes me feel safe. For the first time since Lakhu brought me back, I feel like I might actually be okay.”
Safe. She feels safe with me. The cursed dragon, the one everyone fears, the one who carries darkness that consumes everything it touches—she feels safe in my arms.
Hope. Fragile and terrifying.
But real.
“Stay,” I hear myself say. “As long as you want. As long as you need. Stay.”
She smiles—a real smile, the first one I’ve seen from her that isn’t edged with suspicion or grief. And she curls back into my arms, her fire settling against my shadows, two broken things finding shelter in each other.
Outside, the sun rises over the mountains, painting the sky in shades of fire and gold.
For the first time, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—I might get to keep something I love.