Epilogue
The narrow strait between the islands of Carpe and Evera was a showpiece of granite and ocean surges.
New Malindi’s wild southern coast was where the sea didn’t just meet the land; it attacked it.
Idan and Sheba hiked along the precipice of the cliffs, the wind whipping their hair around.
Idan stopped at the brink, his boots inches from a three-hundred-meter drop into the churning froth.
He took a deep breath of the air, his chest expanding.
‘I like this place,’ he declared, his voice cutting through the gale. ‘It’s wild, passionate, and savage.’
‘Like you,’ Sheba countered, leaning into his side.
‘Naam, it is us,’ he rasped, pulling her closer. ‘I want our entire life, the decades stretching out before us, to reflect this fierce, untamed beauty.’
They retreated from the edge to a sheltered slope covered in a carpet of white daisies. Far below them, sailboats navigated the distance, tiny, defiant floaters on a heaving sapphire sea.
As they sat in the grass, Sheba picked a small bouquet of the flowers, her fingers nimble as she braided a delicate daisy bracelet.
When she finished, she took his massive wrist and tied the fragile loop of stems and blooms around it.
The simplicity of the gesture moved Idan.
He’d lived through centuries of blood, gore, and cold war, yet he had never experienced a sensation so unfiltered and tender.
He took an inhale, overcome with love for the woman who cradled his soul in her hands.
Gazing at the white petals against his dark skin, he made a silent mental vow to preserve the braid in a stasis-press for his bedside.
Pressing his lips to her temple, he held her close for a long time.
As the sun edged towards the horizon, Sheba rose, brushing blossoms from her slacks.
‘Come with me before we lose the light. I want to show you where we scattered my father’s ashes.’
They walked across a bridge that spanned the narrow strait.
Below the iron girders, a frenzied eddy surged, a natural whirlpool that forced the tide into twelve-meter waves.
The roar of the water was a constant, tectonic bass note that made the viaduct sway in the zephyr.
The wind howled through the iron, carrying the scent of damp stone.
Sheba leaned over the rusted rail, her eyes shimmering with the gold-lattice light as she pointed at the bend in the river. ‘That’s where he -.’
Her sentence broke as her heel snagged on a gap in the metal grating and unbalanced her.
Sheba pitched forward, her limbs flailing over the sheer drop. But the fall never came.
A surge of warmth enveloped her, and the sensation of weightlessness took hold as Idan tapped into his divine reservoir.
He suspended her in the air, levitating her toward him until he wrapped his massive arms around her, anchoring her to the hard planes of his chest.
Tilting her head back, his eyes flared before he claimed her mouth in a kiss flavored with sea salt and ancient starlight.
When they finally broke apart, she was trembling, her hands clutching his lapels.
‘I’m a total disaster,’ she whispered, her heart hammering. ‘I’m so freakin’ klutzy. You still want to deal with this every day?’
‘Naam,’ he drawled, the noir gravity of his face breaking into a genuine smile. ‘It’s the most adorable part of you.’
‘Nada, it’s embarrassing!’ she protested.
‘Hell, woman, it gives this Sacran god a chance to save you almost every day. It strokes my ego to be the only thing standing between you and disaster.’
Sheba let out a vibrant, joyous laugh and smacked his shoulder. ‘You’re fokkin’ wild.’
‘I’m wild for you,’ he agreed, his expression turning solemn. ‘And I love you.’
‘Baby, I freakin’ love you too. Even when you spout warrior-god nonsense.’
‘I don’t speak drivel. I mean every last word I say.’
He took her hands in his, his timbre dropping into the melodic, rhythmic cadence.
‘Bright Core, I crave the radiance of your light,
Not as a cold spark hanging in the void,
Watching the eons bleed with eyes apart,
Like a silent, frozen watcher of the dark,
Witnessing the tides wash the distant shores,
Or the snow-mask settling on the desert peaks.
No, I seek the steadfast, the unchangeable,
The fire and flames of your heat each dawn,
The sweet rhythm of your breath,
The rise and fall of your immortal heart.
I want to wake forever in this saccharine, holy rest,
To hear the velvet pulse of your every sigh,
And so I’ll live always, or otherwise dissolve into the stars.’
Sheba’s eyes welled with tears, and he leaned down to kiss the track of moisture on her cheeks.
‘It’s an ancient Sacran poem. Do you like it?’
She laughed through the moisture. ‘Damn, honey. I love it. Promise that you’ll never stop giving me the wild and the sweet. I want the ferocious devotion, the heartfelt poems, and the sappy romance, the bullshit-free honesty. But most of all, I want you.’
‘As I want and adore you too,’ he growled, his forehead resting against hers.
‘Woman, I will be eternally love-drunk on your portion. My mission in this galaxy, and for eternity, is to keep serving you with the feral, the sugary, the savage, and the mushy love. It’s all yours, now and forever more. ’
Idan came through on his word, securing a massive ranch complete with its own lake, on the emerald slopes of the Dunian highlands.
The rugged property sat on the Northern border of Molan and Rina’s estate, giving them a direct family connection.
The farmhouse sat on a natural plateau, a heavy mix of dark timber and local field stone with rafters that vaulted into geometric peaks.
Inside, the place carried the evocative redolence of cedar and the steady warmth of the fireplace.
For many evenings after signing on the dotted line, they huddled over the kitchen island, sketching renovation blueprints and mapping out the future.
They had plans to gut the rear of the house to add more bedrooms, bathrooms, a second living area, and a massive workshop for Idan’s leather-working studio.
They even mapped out a cantilevered primary suite that hung over the plateau, offering a panoramic view of the valley.
Sheba’s vision was for a country house chic style with oak floors to contrast the dark timber and a culinary space anchored by a monolithic slab of black marble.
She obsessed over the tactile details: textured linens, matte brass hardware, and a stone soaking tub carved from a boulder found at the creek.
Witnessing her excitement, Idan realized she wasn’t just renovating a building; she was constructing a fortress of love where their future family would thrive.
They came to a peace of sorts with Sheba’s work schedule.
Every other week, a sleek, hospital-grade corvette broke the atmosphere to shuttle Sheba to New Malindi or Eden II for executive meetings.
The rest of her month played out in a glass-walled study overlooking the valley, where she ran the nursing programs for two different worlds via holo-feeds.
Idan, too, found his balance. When he had to, and usually because he just missed her, he’d tag along on her city assignments.
It was easier now for him to handle the urban noise, moving through the chaos without the suffocating claustrophobia that had once eaten at his soul. The neon glare and kinetic grind of the city didn’t drain him anymore.
He could actually lean into the pandemonium of the streets because he knew the silence of the ranges was waiting for them.
Still, aside from Sheba, his real focus was the land.
With Molan and Mirage helping with the logistics, he started relocating his life into the new holding, piece by piece.
His small flock of sheep thrived on the high-altitude clover, but it was Shuaqagec who claimed the territory.
The six-eyed Basilisk bull, a mountain of obsidian muscle, roamed the perimeter of the orchards and fields.
He acted as a terrifyingly effective guard, his multiple pupils tracking the flight paths of any curious predators and even unauthorized drones until they retreated in haste.
However, what Idan looked forward to most was when Sheba’s flyer touched down on their farm’s landing pad after a week’s shift away.
One night, he was changing fence lines to rotate pastures a few klicks from the farmstead when he caught the growl of the skiff’s engines.
She was early; he’d expected her in two hours.
You’re here, he growled into their neural link.
I am, honey. I couldn’t wait to see you, so I left New Malindi early.
Fokk yeah, salkia. I’m in the west pasture repairing a second-hand sheep shearing rig. I’ll be with you very soon.
Hurry.
Heart lurching, he hastened his chores and twenty minutes later, glimmered to their farmhouse, now lit up with warm lights.
He tracked through the house, past the sumptuous living room and expansive bookshelves filled with her sculptures and their combined books.
He went through the dining room, overflowing with art and plants, past the kitchen and his temporary leather-working studio on one side of the expansive boot room.
He entered the primary where a king-size bed sat covered in furs, hastening his steps as he spotted her clothes scattered on the floor.
Idan found her in the shower, eyes closed, head tilted back as the water cascaded over her face and hair, her tits high and lush, her skin slick with water, the trim bush between her sensual, curved thighs inviting.
His cock went so rock hard, he took a harsh inhale with desire.
Kicking off his boots and stripping his gloves, shorts, and work trousers off, he stepped into the stall behind her.
She had her hands in her hair, rinsing off conditioner, when his muscled, sinewed hands encircled her.
She gasped as the grip of his palms pulled her to the scorching length of his body and thick cock pulsing against her ass.
‘Honey,’ she moaned, twisting in his arms to face him as his touch glided all over her, stroking, tweaking, plumping her tits, as his mouth took hers in a heated, melding kiss.
His fingers found her pussy, and she arched her spine as he slid two thick fingers inside.