Chapter 37 #2
“Goddess.” He cursed, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, leaving a trail of tender bites along the curve of her jaw. “Do you have any idea how good you feel, ael’sura?”
Araya could only whimper, clawing at his shoulders as her body arched, silently begging him for more.
He began to move—slow, deliberate thrusts that dragged against every inch of her, stroking deep and sure. Each roll of his hips sent sparks cascading down her spine. His chest rubbed against her breasts, every glide of skin on skin fanning the fire already roaring through her veins.
Araya couldn’t stop the noises she made—soft, breathless moans that became sharper when Loren shifted, changing the angle and brushing a spot inside her that made her entire body seize.
“There?” he asked, voice dark with need.
“Yes,” she gasped. “There, right there—”
He pressed his forehead to hers and gave her exactly what she asked for, over and over again. She clung to him, to the tension building low in her belly, to the feel of him deep inside her—stretching, filling, worshiping.
One of his hands slid down, finding the tight bundle of nerves between her legs. His fingers circled, timed perfectly with each deep stroke, and Araya broke. Her cry split the air as she came around him, her body clenching down hard, pleasure ripping through her so violently she saw stars.
Loren groaned, his rhythm faltering as she came around him. “Goddess save me,” he choked, spilling into her with a strangled moan as his whole body shuddered.
He pressed his face into her neck, his breath hot and ragged, his fingers tangled with hers where they gripped the sheets. They lay like that for a long moment, hearts racing in unison. Their bond pulsed between them, as sated and steady as they were. Whole.
Loren kissed her shoulder, her temple, the corner of her mouth. “I love you,” he said.
Araya turned her head, brushing her lips against his. “I know,” she whispered. “I love you too.”
Loren leaned in, catching her mouth in another kiss—soft this time, sweet and unhurried, as if now that he’d said the words, he meant to seal them into her skin.
But then her stomach growled. Loudly.
Loren pulled back, laughing. “I’ll get breakfast,” he murmured, his voice rougher than it had been.
His lips quirked into a small smile, his thumb lingering at the edge of her mouth.
Then he pulled away, leaving her sitting there, breathless and flushed, as he pulled his sleeping pants back on and moved to retrieve the tray that Veria somehow always had waiting outside his door in the morning for them.
Araya pushed back the covers, making her way into the bathing chamber. Her muscles ached in the best possible way, her body humming with memory and magic and the quiet, astonishing reality that she’d woken up beside someone she loved—someone who loved her back.
She took her time washing up, letting the cool water soothe her flushed skin.
Finally, she tugged on the robe hanging on the back of the door, knotting it around her waist. Loren stood at the small table by the window, fussing over the tray Veria had left for them.
Morning light gilded the lean muscles of his back and shoulders, dancing over the dark, branching scars the shadows had left behind.
He turned at the sound of her approach, catching her watching him. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, something warm and knowing flickering in his eyes. “What?”
Araya felt the flush rise to her cheeks but didn’t look away. Her lips twitched. “Nothing,” she said. “I’m just… glad.”
“Glad?” he echoed, brow raised.
She nodded, padding barefoot across the stone floor. “That you’re healing. That we’re here.” Her hand lifted slightly, gesturing between them—between the tray, the bed, the bond that hummed like a second heartbeat between their chests. “That we have this.”
Loren reached for her, pulling her gently into his arms. “I’m glad too,” he murmured into her hair.
They stood like that for a long moment, breakfast forgotten. Araya knew the world outside this room was waiting for them, full of danger and uncertainty. But here, in this sunlit room with Loren’s arms wrapped around her and his heartbeat under his ear, there was finally nothing for her to outrun.
But the world and its problems found them anyway.
Lunch came with a sealed letter, just like every other lunch tray Araya had seen since Loren woke up. She’d never realized that Eloria sent him daily reports—still treating him like he would take the throne. And for all his insistence that he didn’t want it, Loren read every single one.
Loren cracked the wax seal, leaning back in his chair. His expression darkened as he skimmed it, the lightness and easy warmth that had filled their morning draining from the room like a dying ember.
“What is it?” Araya asked, her appetite evaporating.
Loren passed the letter to her, his expression tight.
Araya took it, her fingers trembling as she skimmed the crisp parchment.
Most of it she already knew—fae slums burned, families dragged from their homes in the dead of night, bodies found days later or never at all.
Jaxon’s search for her was spreading like a sickness, relentless in its reach.
But the final paragraph that stopped her breath.
Serafina.
Her best friend’s name leapt from the page, echoing in her mind like an accusation as she read it again. And again.
“Loren…” Her voice cracked, barely more than a breath. “Am I—am I reading this right?”
“They let her go.” Loren watched her, his expression grim. “They’re watching her—trying to lure you out.”
He took her hand, squeezing gently, but Araya couldn’t stay still. She pulled away, pacing across the room. The shadows rose as she passed, picking up on her agitation as they brushed cool tendrils over her bare legs.
“They’ll kill her,” she said. “She can’t stay there Loren. We have to get her out. Can the Small Council—”
“The Small Council won’t do anything.” Loren’s jaw tightened, his concern radiating through the bond as he watched her. “I already asked—as soon as we got here. They didn’t even want to look for her. They don’t extract sympathizers.”
“What?” Araya stopped cold, staring at him.
“But—she saved you. They tortured her for what she did to help us escape—” she trailed off, panic swelling in her chest until she could barely breathe.
All she could see was Serafina’s face. Twisted in pain.
Screaming. Fighting—refusing to give in because she would rather die than give up the people she had risked so much to help.
“Araya—” Loren’s voice sounded far away, his hands cold on her arms. “Breathe, ael’sura. Please.”
“He’ll kill her.” Araya gasped. “When I don’t come and and he gets tired of waiting—he’ll just—”
Her knees buckled, but Loren was there. He held her close, surrounding her in warmth as his fingers gently stroked her back.
“We’re not going to leave her,” he murmured into her hair. “I promise, Araya.”
“But what can we do?” She swiped at her face, trying to get herself under control.
“It’s not just Serafina, Loren. While I’m hiding here, Jaxon is tearing apart families, burning homes—all because of me.
” Her voice cracked, the tears she hadn’t wanted to fall spilling over her cheeks. “How do I save them all?”
“You don’t have to do it by yourself, ael’sura.” Loren cupped her face, his thumb brushing away one of her tears. “The Small Council might be too set in their ways to act, but I’m not. If they need a king to give the order, I’ll give them one.”
“But…” Araya stared at him, uncertain how to react. “You don’t want to be king.”
“I didn’t.” Loren laughed softly. “I thought I’d make a terrible king. And the male I was…I would have. But now?” He pressed a kiss to her temple, holding her close. “I might not be the prince they remember or the king they deserve. But there’s nothing I can’t do with you at my side, ael’sura.”
“You mean as your queen,” Araya whispered, the implication in his words sending her reeling. “Don’t you?”
“You’re my mate,” Loren said. He watched her carefully, like he was afraid she might bolt.
“I won’t have a queen that isn’t you, Araya.
I just…I can’t.” His throat worked, his voice rough.
“But there’s still a lot that has to happen.
I can’t be coronated until after my father’s funeral. So if you want to wait to tell people—”
“No.” Araya shook her head slowly. “No more secrets.”
Loren meant well—he always meant well, even when he didn’t tell her about the bond. But she couldn’t add any more secrets to their history. Not after everything they had been through.
“We can’t hide this. If we’re going to do this, we have to do it honestly. No more hiding,” she said.
Loren watched her for a moment, his green eyes searching hers. “No more secrets,” he echoed, the corners of his mouth tugging into a small smile.
Araya stepped into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. She closed her eyes, letting herself melt into him. As terrifying as the idea of not only staying but leading beside him was, the bond hummed between them, a steady reassurance.
“You’ll be an incredible queen,” Loren murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
They stayed there for a long moment, the quiet of the room settling over them both. She wasn’t just Araya Starwind anymore—some halfblood fae female who’d had to claw her way through every impossible choice. She was Prince Lorendrael of Valendrael’s mate. And she would be his queen.
Whatever came next—whatever dangers or impossible odds awaited them—they would face it together. Side by side.