Chapter 21
Elira
I chased Phoenix outside into the front courtyard.
He was pacing—stomping back and forth like the ground might split beneath him.
His hands were in his hair. His breath ragged.
“Phoenix,” I said again, louder this time.
“Go away, Elle!” he snapped. “Leave me alone.”
“No.” I stepped in his path. “I won’t.”
“Elle, please!” His voice was raw, shaking.
“What the hell is going on with you, Phoenix?” I demanded. “Why are you acting like this?”
He laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that had no joy in it.
“Why? You’re actually asking me why?”
He stopped. He turned toward me—eyes red-rimmed, chest heaving.
“Because I’ve been holding myself together with string and silence for months, Elle. Because I don’t know what to say to you without it meaning too much or not enough. Because every time I look at you, I feel like I’m burning alive.”
My breath caught.
He kept going, voice breaking around the edges.
“And then he walks in like it’s a game—like he knows you. Like he deserves you. And I—”
“I love you.”
I took a step back.
He flinched like I’d hit him.
“Exactly,” he said, bitter and broken. “I fucking love you. I crave you like air.”
His voice was shaking now.
“I stay up at night—not thinking about war or strategy or any of the shit I’m supposed to be good at. I stay up thinking about you.”
He stepped forward, barely a breath between us now.
“I see you with Leo. With Slade. Even Caelen. And I try to be fine. I try to be calm. But gods—Elle, all I want to do is be near you.”
He shook his head.
“And I know I’m not what you want. I know I’m too quiet, too careful, too fucking guarded. But I see you. And it’s killing me.”
The last word cracked in his throat.
He turned away—like he couldn’t bear to see my face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know I shouldn't have said it. Just—forget it. I’ll forget it too.”
“Forget it? Are you kidding me?”
His eyes widened as he met mine.
“You think you can just say that, and not hear what I want to say?”
“I know you don’t feel that way about me – “
“You know nothing, Phoenix,” I snapped, stepping closer.
His breath caught, but he didn’t move.
“You want to know why I come to you when I’m scared? When I need answers? When I want rest?”
“Because I’m your friend—” he rolled his eyes
“No!”
My voice cracked—too loud, too raw.
“Because being near you—being close to you—it warms me. It calms me. You make the world quieter. Brighter. Bearable.”
His eyes locked on mine like he didn’t dare breathe.
I stepped toward him, slowly.
“The first day we met—in that carriage—you didn’t know me. Or Finn. But you still saved him. Without hesitation. You didn’t even know what you were saving him from. But you did it. You did it for me.”
Another step. He looked shaken.
“Then you taught me to control my shadows. You didn’t flinch when they lashed out. You didn’t try to change me. You just sat there—calm, patient—like you believed I could handle it, even when I didn’t. You told me I could be strong. And for the first time in my life… I wanted to believe it too.”
I stepped again. He didn’t move. Didn’t run.
“You lay with me on the floor when I had nightmares, and you just listened. You never judged. You didn’t try to fix me. You never flinched, never asked for anything. You were just… there. Because I needed you to be.”
My voice softened—almost a whisper.
“And that night… after Vael’s attack nearly killed me… you would’ve given me everything you had to save me. Wouldn’t you?”
He nodded once.
“Yes.”
I swallowed, shaking slightly. “I’m not good with feelings. I don’t know how to have them… well. But if you think for one godsdamn second I don’t feel them—”
I shook my head, tears rising.
“I love you, Phoenix. I fucking lo—”
His mouth was on mine in an instant.
He caught me like a storm.
I barely had time to breathe before he pushed me back—gently but unrelenting—into the curve of a tree behind us.
His hands framed my jaw. His lips were desperate.
And gods help me, I kissed him back like I’d been waiting my whole life.
The tree was solid against my back, and Phoenix was all heat and tension against me.
His hands gripped my hips, grounding and desperate.
His mouth moved like fire across mine—then lower, tracing the line of my jaw, my throat.
I gasped, fingers digging into his jacket as his hands slid beneath mine—around my waist, my back.
I didn’t want him to stop.
Gods, I wanted more.
My head tipped back against the bark as he kissed down the side of my neck, and I felt like I was burning from the inside out.
Just beyond the court gardens, past the old marble path, was a private meadow—tucked in behind the hedges, ringed with trees. I remembered it from earlier walks. Quiet. Secluded.
I reached for his hand.
Tugged.
“Come with me,” I breathed.
His eyes were glassy with restraint. “Elle—”
“Come with me.”
And he did.
He followed me like I’d cast a spell over him—like nothing else existed but us.
Through the trees, into the hush of green and gold.
His hand in mine.
Our breaths ragged.
Hearts pounding.
I pulled off my jacket and threw it to the ground. He slipped his own coat. I reached for my tank top and gripped the edges, before pulling it loose.
His expression burned.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.”
My hands trembled slightly as I pulled off my shirt, the air cool against suddenly bare skin. I felt exposed—vulnerable.
Phoenix stepped closer, eyes locked on mine, like he couldn’t believe I was real.
He kissed me again—soft, reverent—smiling like he was in awe.
I reached for his shirt. He let me. Lifted his arms. I peeled it off slowly.
His body was lean, hard, warm beneath my fingers.
I traced his abdomen—light, tentative touches—feeling the muscles jump beneath my fingertips. He shivered.
His hands slid down, over my skin, reverent and slow, like he needed to memorize every inch.
Then he dropped to his knees.
He looked up at me, breath shallow, waiting. Asking.
I nodded.
His fingers found the waistband of my pants. Gently, he began to pull them down, inch by inch, watching me like I might vanish.
His breath rasped over my skin. His hands hovered at the lace—my last layer.
I trembled, nerves and want twisting together like a live wire.
My breath caught. My whole body trembled—nerves and want tangled tight in my chest.
He looked up at me, eyes dark with restraint. “We don’t have to.”
“I know,” I whispered. “But I want to.”
His touch was reverent—like I was something sacred.
And when his fingers moved again, I let go of everything else but him.
My underwear slid down as he pressed soft kisses along my stomach.
Lower still—
My body jerked at the sensation, a sharp inhale escaping me.
He paused instantly. “Elle?”
I nodded, breath unsteady. “I’m okay… I’ve just—” My voice caught. I tried again. “I’ve never done this.”
The heat he was building under my skin made it hard to think—like I was burning from the inside out.
Phoenix looked up at me, eyes warm, full of that quiet intensity only he could carry.
“I know,” he said softly. “Thank you for letting me be the first.”
He leaned in again, kissing just above my hip.
“I’m honoured.”
His lips went lower, deeper. I cried out, a sensation flooding me I had never felt before. His tongue explored me, and I bucked. His hands clasped my rear and I pulled him closer, like I could prolong the sensation forever.
I was molten heat and need. His fingers slipped over me, gliding along my seam, teasing the edges, before one slid inside. Then another. They moved inside me, deep and slow, drawing helpless sounds from my lips. I moaned, loudly, involuntarily.
And that sinful tongue, it played and feasted like he was a starving man and I was his favourite meal.
Pleasure built in waves, making my skin come alive. It built like a song reaching its crescendo.
Until finally - it was like an explosion.
I pressed him close, my whole body trembling as waves of pleasure rolled through me—slow, overwhelming, all-consuming.
I clung to him, breath ragged, heart hammering against his chest.
When the world finally settled, I whispered, “What… what was that?”
He smiled against my skin. A soft, reverent sound.
“That,” he said quietly, “was everything.”
I laughed—half breath, half disbelief. I felt weightless. Raw. Real.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice suddenly cautious.
I nodded, “Yeah. Just… that was new.”
“For me too,” he said. “With you—it’s different.”
I fell to my knees before him, legs like jelly, breath still catching in my throat.
Phoenix pulled me close.
He kissed my mouth, my cheek, the corner of my eye—soft, reverent touches like he couldn’t get enough of me.
I reached for him—hesitant, uncertain.
“Should I…?”
He stopped me gently, brushing my hand with his.
“No,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “You don’t need to.”
“But—”
“Elle,” he whispered, “watching you come undone like that?”
His eyes searched mine, full of quiet wonder.
“That was enough for me.”
Something was building under my skin. Like a flaming need I couldn’t explain.
“But – what if I want to?”
“Elle – “
“Please.”
I ran my hand slowly down his hips, fingers grazing the edge of his waistband. He hissed at the contact, like my touch seared through him. His body shifted closer, the air between us charged, alive. His eyes met mine—bright with need, but soft too. Waiting.
The fabric of his pants strained, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable. I let my fingers drift lower, teasing the button open, then easing the zipper down—slow, deliberate, like every second mattered.
He sprang free—hard, flushed, and breathtaking. Bigger than I’d imagined.
Beautiful.
I swallowed, breath catching at the sheer ache of him—more than want. Almost wonder.
I wanted to know what he would taste like.
My fingers glided gently over him, slow and reverent. He gasped—a shuddering sound that tore from his throat as his hands gripped my hips, anchoring himself to me.
“Elle,” he breathed, voice hoarse. “Gods… just like that.”
And then I lowered myself and pressed my lips to his tip.
His skin was smooth, smoky and salty. He hissed at the feel of my tongue glazing his hard length.
I opened my mouth and took him inside. He shuddered and gasped, instinctively pulling me in closer so I swallowed more of him.
“Sorry –“ He gasped
I took him deeper, responding with my mouth like I could answer his need. My hands slid over the hard curves on his rear, shoving him forward. I pulled him to the back of my throat until I gagged, tasting every inch of him. He began to thrust in and out rhythmically.
“Gods I love you… Gods – “
I felt him twitch in my mouth. He held my head, bunching my hair in his fist.
“I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that!” he whispered, pulling me loose. He pulled my mouth up to his own and kissed me hard, his tongue swirling with my own.
He sank to the floor, pulling me with him, guiding me to straddle his lap. Our skin met in new, electric places. His hands roamed—my back, my waist, my thighs—hungry and hesitant all at once, like he couldn’t decide whether to worship me or devour me.
I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his, breath mingling with his.
His hands were shaking.
So were mine.
“I’ve wanted this,” he said softly, his voice rough with restraint. “Long before I had the right to.”
My throat tightened. “You always had the right.”
He laughed under his breath—like that hurt more than it soothed. His hands gripped my hips, holding me there, keeping me just above him. Not yet. Not fully.
I shifted, and he groaned—deep, guttural.
His head fell back. The sound of it lit something fierce in me.
I reached down again, slower this time, letting my body explore him, memorizing every twitch, every breath.
He was so responsive under my centre, unravelling with nothing more than patience and pressure.
I moved, slowly, with delicious friction. I felt him straining towards me. His breath hitched.
“Elira—” My name, like a prayer. Like surrender.
I could feel him, still so hard beneath me. I wanted him undone. I’d never felt so alive before!
His fingers slid over my clavicle, brushing reverently along my ribs, over my breasts, skimming and pinching my nipples until they were sharp as glass. I moved my body against him, allowing him to lick down over each breast, teasing each peak.
“Tell me if I need to stop.” He said, his mouth on me.
“You won’t,” I whispered.
“I might,” he said, his voice cracking. “You make me forget how to be careful.”
I kissed the corner of his mouth. Then the other. Then finally—finally—our lips met fully. It wasn’t a soft kiss. It was starving. Months of silence. Of stolen looks. Of everything we hadn’t said.
I rocked against him, and he broke the kiss with a gasp, his forehead pressing to my collarbone, breath stuttering as I moved again, slow and deliberate.
“I’m not breaking,” I murmured.
“I am,” he said. “And I don’t care.”
We stayed like that—moving, breathing, hands and mouths tangled—until the world narrowed to this heat, this ache, this rhythm of almosts and maybes. His name fell from my lips like a secret, and mine from his like a promise.
When release came, it took us both in the same breath—heat and hunger colliding, unstoppable and complete.
We unravelled together, bodies shaking, breathless, lost in the same storm of fire and surrender.
No rush. No need to go further. We were already undone.
We stayed tangled—breathless, hearts pounding in sync. We didn’t speak. We didn’t have to.
Our bodies had already said it all.
Eventually, when the silence grew softer—less electric, more sacred—he kissed my shoulder and sat up, fingers brushing hair from my face with aching care.
I stared at him, heart stuttering in my chest.
“You’re cold,” he murmured.
Only then did I realize I was shivering.
He reached for his shirt and gently pulled it over me—soft, worn, still warm from his skin.
I gripped the hem, holding it closed. His scent clung to the fabric. It smelled like him. Like home.
“You’re so perfect,” he murmured.
I snorted. “A perfect mess.”
He smiled, brushing a knuckle across my cheek.
“No. Perfect. In every way.”
I curled into him, wrapping myself in his arms, his shirt loose around my shoulders.
We lay there together in the hush of the meadow, the leaves whispering overhead.
I looked up at the sky—fading sunlight streaking gold through the branches.
“Tomorrow…” I whispered, “we’ll get to the garrison, won’t we?”
He nodded. “Most likely.”
I hesitated. My voice was smaller when I asked, “Will we be okay?”
The question hung between us like something fragile. Breakable.
Because now—I had something more to lose.