Chapter Twenty-Three #3
“Want is too small a word for what I feel for you,” he breathes, words strained. “You are an endless thing, El. A horizon I could spend a thousand lifetimes chasing and never reach the end of. I am bound to you—in blood, in bone, in whatever comes after death.”
The words are a vow. A promise written in bone.
Like loving her is the only place his violence cannot follow.
Like protecting her is the only reason his violence exists at all.
Elyssara fights the tears that reach for her, because there’s something in his voice—final, resigned. Like part of him believes he isn’t worthy of it. Like part of him believes he never will be.
“Then let me give you this,” she murmurs, voice barely audible.
She guides him backward until the mist touches his skin.
Warm droplets bead along his throat.
Steam curls between them.
“Let it take what is not yours to carry,” she whispers.
Not a command.
An invitation.
“This,” she says, cupping his bloodied palm in her hands, “is consequence. Not identity.”
She pulls his hand into the firm spray, gliding her hands across the dried blood until it sloughs away, slipping between the drainage cracks like it never was.
Water strikes his shoulders.
He flinches like he expects punishment.
But it’s only warmth.
Only release.
Only her hands following the path of the water down his body.
His breathing changes first. Then his posture. Then the rigid control leaves his spine. His forehead drops to hers. He breathes her in like air is something he has been denied.
“I don’t know how to come back from this,” he whispers.
But if Elyssara knows anything, it’s that no one can come back from anything. They can only go forward. They can only rewrite the story.
“Let me remind you who you are,” Elyssara breathes.
And her mouth finds his.
Slow.
Deep.
Reverent.
The tether does not hum.
It aligns.
Like two Stars correcting orbit after impact.
Her tongue caresses his, languid and claiming.
But Kael pulls back. “I can’t trust myself with you, El. I can’t—”
“Hey,” she breathes, pulling his face between her hands. “I trust you, my love. Do you trust me?”
His shoulders drop. “Of course I trust you. But the Decay—”
“Doesn’t own you,” she snaps, finishing for him. “You are mine, from now until the Stars claim me, Kael Thorne. And I’ll remind you of that every day until I reach you in the darkness. Just like you did for me.”
The ocean of his eyes swells, stretching across his iris and washing away the darkness in a subtle wave. Not entirely. But incrementally.
She doesn’t wait for him to speak.
She crashes her lips into his. Hungrier this time. A brand. As if she can force the Decay into submission with her love.
Kael kisses her back, desperate and craving.
Her hands sweep through his chocolate-brown waves, threading through the strands and gripping. He sucks in a sharp breath as she grips, balancing on the edge between pain and pleasure.
His hands find her hip, dragging over the curve, climbing up her torso. He reaches her breast, cupping it in his hand, and a ravenous growl rips from his throat.
Elyssara smiles against his mouth. “I knew I’d find you here,” she breathes, before tilting her chin up for better access.
Her lips part again, and his restraint snaps—his tongue sweeps in, tangling with hers in a dance of fire and restraint. He tastes like reverence and ruin, desperation and desire.
And Elyssara is done pretending she’s not in control. Done pretending she can’t find him in the darkness. Done pretending she doesn’t command the Sky—because it’s time to use it.
Her hand sweeps down his torso, tracing over the ripple of hard muscles, and finds the edge of that godsdamned V that possesses her dreams.
Her hand moves lower still, until she finds the hard shaft of his cock. She wraps her fingers around it, gripping tight enough that his breath hitches. She glides her hand along it in a languid stroke, and catches his lip between her teeth.
“Fuck,” he grits out, restraint nowhere to be seen.
She pumps again, and again, taking her hand from base to tip in a steady rhythm.
She pries her mouth from his. “You think the Decay controls you, Kael, but there’s only one altar you worship at, my love,” she murmurs, her voice all seduction and sin. No. A reminder.
He groans, the sound pure animal. “Only you, my love.”
But Elyssara doesn’t stop. She grips his cock hard, increasing the rhythm until his hips buck. “The Decay is an inconvenience, Kael. I am forever. You kneel for me.”
Her words find their mark.
“Fuck,” he growls, the sound tearing from his throat. “Only you.”
She knows she’s winning. Knows she’s clawing him back to himself with every stroke of his cock, every moan ripped from his throat, every bite of his lip. So she keeps going.
“And I,” she promises seductively, “only kneel for you.”
An untamed sound escapes his lips at her vow.
Elyssara lowers to her knees with the promise of pleasure, shamelessly gripping his powerful thighs on the way down. The spray of the stonefall hits her back, rivers of water trailing over the smooth planes of her ass, drawing Kael’s eyes.
His hands tremble—not just with restraint, but with the unbearable tenderness of being chosen like this. Of being worthy of this.
She looks up at him through a curtain of lashes, her auburn hair spilling over her breasts, down her back. The darkness in his gaze recedes under her ministrations like a dog being brought to heel.
She kisses the inside of his thigh first. Slow. Reverent. Feeling the way he trembles before her.
“I’ve been waiting so long to take you in my mouth, Kael,” she moans, eyes fixed on his.
And Kael looses an exhale of pure pleasure, ecstasy heavy in every breath.
“Fucking Stars. You’re so perfect,” he groans, voice strained.
She doesn’t take her eyes from his—she wants him to watch her. Wants him to see the way she takes him. Wants him to look at the way she loves him, pleasures him, chooses him. In every moment. Every lifetime.
She takes the tip of her tongue, and makes contact with his cock. He sucks in a sharp breath, the sound hissing between his teeth.
She traces the length of his cock with her tongue, a moan vibrating through her throat, causing Kael’s head to tip back in pleasure.
“No,” Elyssara commands. “Watch what I do to you. Watch how I take you. How I love you,” she vows, and she takes his cock in her mouth.
A sharp, breathy moan escapes him as if he’s submitting—allowing himself to take pleasure for once in his fucking life.
Good.
She keeps going, taking him deeper in her mouth until his cock hits the back of her throat. Then she moans for him. A deep, guttural moan rumbles through her chest and his hips buck wildly at the sensation.
“Fuck,” he grits out, and his hands thread through her hair, tangling in the strands and gripping at the roots. Not controlling. Holding on.
Elyssara’s nails dig into the muscles of his thighs, her grip so tight she leaves crescent-shaped marks in his skin.
She increases her pace, watching him let go, receive, forget, allow, with every stroke of her tongue.
Water washes over them both, each drop offering purification, a clean slate.
Kael’s grip tightens in her hair, holding her head in place. But he doesn’t move his hips. He would never. He stands there, a small tremor in his legs giving away his restraint.
His eyes bore into her, the smallest sliver of black cutting through his ocean irises.
Elyssara pulls her lips away from his cock. “I want you to fuck my mouth, Kael.”
“No,” he snaps.
“Yes. Take from me. The way you let me take from you,” she says, and her mouth wraps around him again.
He groans at her touch, but his restraint is still evident.
She moves along his shaft, tongue dragging along his cock, mouth pumping.
And restraint snaps involuntarily—his hips buck.
She moans, loving the way he lets himself go for her.
She pumps her mouth harder, faster, letting him hit the back of her throat. His hands grip her hair firmer, desperate to hold himself back. So she does it for him. She sucks harder, deeper. Moans louder, richer.
His hips drive forward, sliding his cock in and out of her mouth.
And finally, he lets go.
He looks down at her, finding her eyes, his face broken into something beautiful and ruinous. She takes him deeper while he stares at her, the veins bulging in his forearms, his neck, every muscle tense.
He’s a vision. Lost to her, under her instruction, possessed by pleasure and love and this.
“Thank you,” he breathes, voice stripped raw and broken, and she knows he’s not saying thank you for this.
Elyssara pulls her lips away from his cock.
“I’m not done yet, my love. Where can we lie down?”
Kael’s hand finds hers, but he doesn’t move. Not yet. His eyes land on her body, pushing her hair over her shoulder to reveal her breasts, heavy and throbbing. A low, appreciative hum rumbles through his chest.
“My perfect girl,” he praises in that rich, gravelly timber that turns her molten.
His eyes descend further, taking in every dip, every curve, every hollow. Taking her in like she’s a masterpiece made to his exact taste.
He leans in, and a whisper drifts to her ear. “I’d like to fuck you now, Elyssara.”
She huffs a laugh, pressing him away with a gentle palm to his chest. “I’d like to fuck you now. And we both know I always get what I want.”
A rich laugh tears from his throat. And the sound is fucking beautiful. Not because he laughed, but because it’s honest.
“Come,” he murmurs.
He guides her deeper into the bathhouse, away from the constant rush of the stonefall. The roar of falling water fades behind them, replaced by a quiet that feels almost sacred.
The passage opens into a secluded chamber.
Animal furs blanket the stone floor in thick layers, swallowing the cold beneath her feet. Hundreds of candles burn in carved alcoves, their amber glow warming the rock until the chamber feels less like a cave and more like a refuge hidden beneath the city.
Kael releases her hand.
“Lie down,” Elyssara murmurs, her voice part-command, part-breathy whisper.