Chapter 16
TATEK
Ican’t sleep.
Not because I’m unsettled.
But because for the first time in… stars, I don’t even know how long—my body is quiet.
No hypervigilance. No pulse-racing shadows on the edge of my vision. No fight curling in my gut waiting to be used.
Just… silence.
Mara’s breathing is soft against my chest. Slow. Steady. Her hand lies limp over my heart, the tips of her fingers brushing my skin like a tether. Her leg is slung over mine, anchoring me. She’s not even fully draped across me, but the weight of her is enough to keep the world away.
And I realize, slowly, that this—this stillness, this warmth—is what my people once built temples for.
Not gods.
Not conquest.
Belonging.
We used to fight for this. Whole generations bled for the right to hold what I’m holding now.
And now that I have her—truly, finally—I understand. There is no mission. No ideology. No allegiance strong enough to make me give her up.
She stirs, just a little. Her nose brushes my collarbone. A sleepy hum escapes her lips as her fingers flex against my chest like she’s dreaming of holding tighter.
I press a kiss into her hair.
She doesn’t wake.
Not yet.
But her body shifts again, curling even closer.
The simulation still hums around us, the soft projection of starlight scattered over the curved ceiling, the impossible flora glowing faintly at the chamber’s edge. A false garden—but I swear, lying here with her, I’ve never known something so real.
I run my fingers lightly down her spine.
She breathes deeper, arching faintly into my touch.
And I feel it.
That pull.
Not lust.
Not even need.
Worship.
I ease her gently onto her back. Her brow furrows for half a second, sleep trying to hold on, but when my mouth finds the hollow of her throat, she exhales slowly and her eyes blink open.
They meet mine—cloudy with sleep, dark with recognition.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she whispers.
“I didn’t want to,” I murmur.
Her lips twitch in the hint of a smile. “Why not?”
I trace the line of her cheek with my knuckle. “Because this is the only time the universe feels quiet.”
She touches my face then, thumb brushing over my jaw, and I lean into her palm like it’s the only gravity that matters.
We kiss.
Slow.
Deep.
No urgency.
No hunger.
Just certainty.
I shift between her thighs, feel her legs part to cradle me, and my hands explore her like I’m cataloging starlight—memorizing her curves, her softness, the way her breath hitches when my fingers skim just below her ribs.
“You’re staring,” she says, voice soft and raspy.
“I’m memorizing,” I correct. “Every scar. Every sound. Every second.”
She laughs under her breath, and even that—especially that—makes my chest ache.
Her laugh always ends with a pause. A quiet inhale, like she’s catching herself. I kiss that breath off her lips and feel her melt beneath me.
This is the part no one ever tells you about.
Not the sex.
The reverence.
The way your soul recognizes someone else’s weight and shifts to make room. The way their body becomes not just a home, but a language. And right now, she’s speaking to me with every inch of her.
I lower my mouth to her chest, to the swell of her breast, kissing the skin there like it matters—which it does. Her fingers slide into my hair and stay there, gentle but anchoring, like she knows if she lets go I might slip away into her entirely.
I move lower, mapping her belly with my lips, my hands skimming her thighs, coaxing her legs open as she gasps softly.
“Tatek,” she breathes. “What are you—?”
“Let me worship,” I murmur against the inside of her thigh. “Let me show you what you are.”
She shudders beneath me.
And when I finally taste her again, she cries out—no filter, no shame, just need.
I use my mouth like a prayer.
Slow.
Devout.
I learn her all over again, the way she trembles when I swirl my tongue a certain way, the way her hips twitch when I suck softly on her clit, the way her fingers dig into my scalp when I slide two fingers into her while my mouth works above.
She comes fast.
Hard.
Quiet, but intense.
Her legs lock around me, her body bowing up as she shakes apart beneath my mouth. I don’t stop until she tugs at my hair—gently, urgently.
“Please,” she whispers. “I need you.”
I kiss my way back up her body.
Line myself against her.
She reaches between us and guides me in, slowly, both of us groaning as I sink deep, her wet heat enveloping me in a way that feels like going home.
We move together with reverence.
Her eyes lock on mine.
No walls.
No lies.
Just truth.
I rock into her with long, steady strokes, one hand cradling the back of her neck, the other gripping her thigh. Her fingers trail up my spine, nails dragging lightly down, until her mouth finds the underside of my jaw.
She kisses me there.
Soft.
And then, against my throat, she whispers:
“Don’t stop protecting me.”
And I don’t answer with words.
I answer with everything I am.
I thrust deeper. Harder. But still slow. Still steady. Like a vow made with every breath.
I watch her fall apart beneath me again, her body clutching mine, her voice breaking on my name as she comes, and I follow—seconds later—groaning into her neck as I give her everything I have.
And still, it doesn’t feel like enough.
Because she’s infinite.
When we collapse together, chests heaving, bodies trembling, she curls into me again like she never left.
And this time, I sleep.
Because I don’t need to stand guard.
Not when she is what I’m guarding.
Later, I awaken in the half light. Her hair brushes my jaw every time she exhales, and I stay still, soaking in the warmth, the scent of her—salt and skin and something sharper, like ozone caught between lightning strikes.
Her skin still hums against mine, heat lingering from everything we shared hours ago. Everything we made.
I want to stay like this.
Forever, if the stars are feeling generous.
But the pull starts in my spine. That low, unavoidable awareness that something unfinished waits beyond this moment.
I ease out of the bed, slow enough not to wake her. She murmurs something—half a sound, a breath—but doesn’t stir beyond shifting her face deeper into the pillow. Her brow smooths out when I tug the blanket higher over her shoulders.
She trusts me.
That alone is enough to bring me to my knees.
But there’s one last thing I have to do.
I pull on just enough gear to access the comm port tucked behind the garden simulation’s maintenance panel.
Outdated tech. Which makes it perfect. No one checks these lines anymore.
Most of the Coalition’s surveillance algorithms reroute through newer relay systems. This one’s old. Analog-heavy. Easy to bypass.
I hook in my data spike, crack the encryption in five seconds flat.
The message window blinks open.
Recipient: Serat
Origin: Tatek | Provisional Override Clearance – Red Sigil
I stare at the blank text field for a long time.
There’s nothing tactical to say. Nothing strategic to justify what I’ve done. What I’ve become.
Only this:
“The bond is complete. She is truth. I will not yield.”
I don’t encrypt the message beyond standard cloak. I don’t add a signature.
Vakutans don’t write love letters.
This is the closest we ever get.
I hit send.
The line goes dark.
And somehow, I feel lighter.
When I turn back toward the bed, she’s still asleep.
Still mine.
Still everything.
And I make a silent promise to whatever gods might still be listening:
No matter what comes next, I will protect her.
Even from myself.