Chapter 63 #3
Rell’s hand slid between them, and she flinched once—a small, involuntary thing—before consciously relaxing into his touch, her body arching toward rather than away.
“That’s it,” he murmured between breaths. “Still with me, Sunshine?”
“Mhmm,” was all she could manage.
The pressure inside her crested and broke. She buried her face against his neck as the waves moved through her, not fleeing the feeling but staying inside it, choosing it, even as her body trembled with the unfamiliar force of letting go completely.
Rell held her through it, his arm like a steel band around her waist, keeping her grounded as she rode out the waves of sensation.
When the last tremors faded, he rolled them over in one fluid motion, his weight settling above her. He stilled, suddenly aware of how far his own need had carried him without pausing to check in with her. He started to pull back, to create space between them, but her hand closed around his arm.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“We can stop—really—”
She answered him not with words but with the slow tilt of her hips upward, closing the distance between them, drawing him back.
The change in position brought him deeper, drawing a sharp inhale from her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back, pulling him closer, and she was rewarded with a low moan that vibrated against her collarbone.
His rhythm shifted, the careful measured pace dissolving into something rawer.
His breath came ragged above her, muscles taut with the effort to keep his pace.
She felt the moment he reached his peak in the sudden grip of his hands at her hips, the stuttered exhale, the way his whole body shuddered before he fell forward and buried his face against the curve of her shoulder, her name breaking apart in his throat.
For several heartbeats, they remained locked together, breathing in unison as the waves rocked gently beneath them. Rell’s weight pressed her into the mattress, comforting rather than confining. His heartbeat thundered against her chest, echoing her own.
When he finally moved, it was to brush the damp hair from her forehead, his touch impossibly tender. He rolled to the side, keeping one arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer. Elora curled into his warmth, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder.
She had expected the fear to swallow the moment, eventually. To pull her back into herself until all she could think about was surviving it.
She didn’t think that fear would ever fully disappear.
But now she had proof that she could push past it.
That she was still here.
The silence wrapped around them like a blanket, punctuated only by the creaking of the vessel and the distant sounds of waves lapping against the hull.
Elora felt her eyelids growing heavy, the emotional and physical exertion finally catching up with her.
Rell’s fingers traced idle patterns on her skin, occasionally pressing soft kisses to her temple as she drifted toward sleep.
She wasn’t sure how long she dozed before Rell’s touch gently roused her. His fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, the gesture pulling her back from the edge of deeper sleep. His eyes studied her face in the dim light of the cabin.
“Did you want to shift?” he asked softly.
Elora considered the question. The familiar itch beneath her skin was noticeably absent.
Usually by now, the nightglider would be prowling restlessly within her, seeking release.
During those days in Sadia’s room, she’d tried desperately to remain human through the night, but the nightmares always came—visions of Thorn’s laboratory, of Tehvan’s preserved brain floating in that viscous green liquid, of Rell’s blood leaving him.
Each time, she’d wake gasping, sweat-soaked and trembling, before shamefully surrendering to the shift that would dull the sharp edges of her terror.
But tonight was different. The nightglider remained quiet, a comforting presence rather than a demanding one. It waited patiently in the background of her consciousness, available if needed but not insistent.
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered, her shoulders relaxing. “I don’t need to.”
The nightmares would still come—she harbored no illusions about that. The trauma she’d endured wouldn’t vanish simply because she’d escaped its source. But for the first time, she felt capable of facing those demons without retreating into the nightglider’s simpler consciousness.
Rell didn’t press or question further. He simply reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed and pulled it over them both.
Elora curled against his chest, their legs intertwining beneath the covers.
His arms encircled her, strong and secure, as if to shield her from whatever darkness might try to claim her in sleep.
He pressed a kiss to her lips, delicate and unhurried. “I love you, Sunshine,” he murmured against her mouth.
“I love you too,” she whispered back, the words coming easily now, because they were hers to give.