Chapter 39 #2
He interpreted her silence as permission. His hands curved gently around her waist, careful, slow. Her heart thundered against her ribs, and for the first time in forever, it danced without fear pulling the strings. It sang for him—a quiet symphony, more powerful than any words could ever be.
Their lips collided, clumsy and desperate, tongues entwining as if it might be the last taste they would ever share. Every movement carried both urgency and restraint, a push and pull between wanting to devour the moment and to stretch it out, to hold it in place, suspend it in time.
She let him loom over her, letting him guide her to the edge of the table.
His touch was gentle, yet it stirred something deep within her, a raw need she had barely allowed herself to feel.
His eyes held more than desire—there was care, restraint, a quiet fear of pushing her too far, even though she was immortal. He cared. Truly cared.
Ellaryn’s neck arched at the soft press of his lips against her skin as he traced a slow path up her throat; the sensation was achingly intoxicating, so overwhelmingly consuming that a single tear slipped down her cheek.
He had made her feel vulnerable, had given hope wings after it had been buried for so long.
He was the light slicing through the thick, murky dark, and he had been there for her even after seeing the worst of what she had done—and still, he wanted her.
Maybe he was as wrong as she was. He had to be broken to look at her as if she were whole.
Her fingers dug into his flesh with a strong desire. He had protected her. He had always come for her no matter how many times she told him not to.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered softly, his breath brushing her earlobe. Ellaryn hesitated, unease crawling up her spine, but she met his gaze.
“I want you to focus on the feeling, not what’s around you,” he said, picking her up, the muscles in his arm tensing as he placed her carefully on the mattress. She nodded, forcing doubt down. After everything, after all she had endured, she could still trust him.
Slowly, she closed one eye, then the other, surrendering herself completely. A low sigh escaped him, almost a whisper of relief—he had earned her trust.
His fingers traced the curve of her collarbones with a softness she wasn’t used to. He explored the space between her breasts, gliding over every scar, every line, every detail as if memorising her. His hands pressed lightly against her ribs, sensitive as glass, careful yet commanding.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips. She had never been touched like this before—not with tenderness, not with care—only with blades, fists, and harsh authority.
This was different. This was safety, warmth, and desire all wrapped into one, and it threatened to unravel her completely.
Xander was magic—born of it, shaped by it—but his hands were reverent even without power humming through them. The way he touched her was gentle yet sure, grounding, sending warmth rippling through her where only cold had lived before.
When he began softly marbling her nipples in his hands, her back arched as he toyed with them.
She had hurt so many people. She told herself she didn’t deserve to feel anything but their pain.
And yet—under his touch, with the heat of him cutting through the chill that seemed to linger within her, with the way his eyes shone as he looked at her—not as a monster, not as a victim, but simply as Ellaryn—something inside her loosened.
That, somehow, was enough.
She felt the tension in him, the restrained want he barely contained, and it made her ache in a way she had never known before. Not fear. Not obligation. Just longing—pure and terrifying in its unfamiliarity.
Ellaryn could feel the space between his legs hardening fast above her. She leaned into him, breath shallow, heart loud, knowing she was standing on the edge of something she had never allowed herself to want.
Xander’s kisses trailed lower, unhurried and tantalising, and Ellaryn’s fingers threaded into his hair, grounding herself in its softness.
Even in the dim light, it caught the faint glow of the lantern like spun gold, something warm and real to hold onto.
His mouth lingered as he moved, kisses growing less careful, more earnest, until she forgot to breathe altogether.
In that suspended moment, there was only him and her.
Thought slipped away. Guilt fell silent. The endless self-reproach that haunted her loosened its grip, leaving only sensation in its wake. With her eyes closed, every brush of his lips registered sharply, her nerves lighting up as if startled awake, like a million wings stirring beneath her skin.
For once, she wasn’t bracing for pain.
She was simply feeling.
Her trousers slipped away beneath his hands, leaving her exposed to his gaze. She lay bare before him, breath shallow, heart racing as he settled closer between her thighs. Instinct made her tense, legs drawing in as heat coiled up her spine, but his hand was there immediately, reassuring, gentle.
“It’s okay,” he murmured softly, his voice low and soothing, meant only for her. “You’re safe. Try to relax.”
The words settled over her like a lullaby, gentle and patient. She let herself listen. Let the tightness ease from her body. Let the moment hold her as she exhaled and surrendered.
And for the first time, she didn’t brace for what came next.
She welcomed him.
An immediate gasp escaped her lips as she felt the warmth of his tongue against her.
When he began to devour the bundle of nerves between her legs, she couldn’t help but moan louder, her hand covering her mouth to stifle her sounds.
Somehow, Xander knew exactly how to listen to her body’s call, going harder when she ached for more and softer when the deliciousness was almost too much to endure.
Ellaryn clasped onto him, head tilted back, eyes still pinched shut, the feeling rolling through her like a molten wave.
But this wave didn’t burn; it hummed through her, singing a sweet symphony meant only for them.