Chapter 21
Jupiter
A week had passed since our return to Imperium. Seven days of trying to regain some normalcy while my mind constantly replayed the events at Dominion. Seven days of feeling the Nightfall Shield through our bond, their presence a constant ache that I couldn’t quite ignore no matter how hard I tried.
I’d thrown myself into classes and training, spending most evenings with Theo or Jamie or Lucas, trying to distract myself from the decision looming over me.
Draco’s offer to transfer Nightfall to Imperium as a professional combat unit kept circling in my thoughts.
Part of me wanted to reject it outright, the idea of seeing them every day, working with them without being with them, felt like a special kind of torture.
But another part of me couldn’t deny the truth in what Draco had said.
The bond was killing us all slowly, and maybe finding a way to coexist was the only solution.
I sighed, pushing those thoughts away as I made my way through the winding stone paths of Imperium’s grounds toward the greenhouse.
This had become my daily ritual, an hour or two in the afternoon spent with Phoenix among the exotic plants that had been salvaged from the home worlds.
There was something about his calm, steady presence that soothed me.
The massive glass structure came into view, sunlight glinting off its crystalline panels. Unlike the rest of Imperium’s heavy stone architecture, the greenhouse was a masterpiece of curved glass and delicate ironwork.
Phoenix was already inside when I arrived. He looked up at the sound of the door closing, his copper eyes warming when they landed on me. “Right on time,” he said, straightening from where he’d been tending to a cluster of luminous blue flowers.
“Am I ever late?” I teased, setting down my bag on a nearby bench.
He smiled. “Only that one time last week when Jamie convinced you to try dreamwalking during one of your marathon naps and you both got stuck in Noodle’s head for three hours.”
“That was not my fault. Jamie swore he knew what he was doing.”
“Mhmm. Come on, I have something to show you today.”
I followed him through the greenhouse, past rows of plants I was just beginning to learn the names of.
Phoenix had been teaching me about them—which ones were medicinal, which were decorative, which were originally from the Taurus home world or even some of the moons.
It was fascinating, this living connection to worlds that had been lost for thousands of years.
Instead of stopping at our usual workbench, Phoenix led me toward the back of the greenhouse, to a section I hadn’t explored before.
As we approached, I noticed a thick canopy of trees with trunks like willows but leaves in stunning shades of purple and orange that shimmered in the filtered sunlight.
“I’ve never been to this part,” I said, reaching out to touch one of the hanging branches. The leaves felt like silk against my fingers.
“It’s a special section,” Phoenix said, gently parting the curtain of foliage to reveal a hidden clearing within. “These are Lividian Willows. They only grow near bodies of water on their home world on Aquarius, but we’ve managed to cultivate a small grove here.”
I stepped through the opening he’d created, and my breath caught.
Inside the circle of trees was a small oasis, complete with a tiny obviously man-made stream that trickled through moss-covered stones.
The air was cooler here, filled with a sweet scent that reminded me of honeysuckle.
But what surprised me most was the picnic spread out on a blanket in the center of the clearing.
“What’s this?” I asked, turning to look at Phoenix.
He shrugged, though I could see a hint of nervousness in the gesture. “I thought you might like a change from our usual routine. You’ve been working so hard this week.”
“This is...” I trailed off, taking in the carefully arranged cushions, the woven basket, the bottle of what looked like wine chilling in a small bucket. “This is lovely. I feel like I’m in an episode of Bridgerton or something. Who knew you had it in you, Phe.”
Phoenix shook his head in exasperation and gestured for me to sit, and I settled onto the soft blanket, crossing my legs beneath me.
He joined me, opening the basket to reveal an assortment of fruits I’d never seen before, some deep purple with golden speckles, others pale blue and perfectly round, and others that looked like star-shaped berries in vibrant crimson.
“These all grow here?” I asked, amazed.
He nodded, arranging them on a plate. “All cultivated from seeds or cuttings brought from the original Aelari worlds. This one,” he held up a star-shaped berry, “is from my home planet. We called them starfruit nowadays, but I can’t remember the original name, though they’re nothing like what humans call starfruit. ”
Next to the fruit, he placed a small bowl of what appeared to be melted chocolate. The rich, dark scent of it made my mouth water.
“Traditional chocolate. Made from cacao grown right here in this greenhouse. Sorry to say that one’s entirely human.”
We settled into a comfortable conversation as we ate, talking about everything and nothing—my classes, his research on Taurus healing techniques, the latest gossip about two professors getting caught in a broom closet.
I found myself relaxing completely for the first time in days, the tension in my shoulders finally easing as Phoenix told stories about his childhood.
“So there I was,” He gestured with a piece of blue fruit, “ten years old, convinced I could control the weather because every time I got angry it would start raining.”
I laughed, leaning back on my elbows. The afternoon sun filtered through the purple-orange leaves above us.
I’d worn a simple crop top and shorts, comfortable in the greenhouse’s humid warmth.
Phoenix’s eyes occasionally drifted to the exposed skin of my midriff, though he quickly looked away each time I caught him.
“Try this one,” he said, picking up one of the golden-speckled purple fruits. “It’s called an echofruit on the Taurus world. Very roughly translated. It’s supposed to taste different to each person.”
He dipped the fruit into the chocolate and held it out to me.
Instead of taking it with my fingers, I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around it, taking a bite while it was still in his hand.
The flavor exploded on my tongue—sweet and tart and somehow reminiscent of summer thunderstorms, pineapple popsicles and sweet tea.
“Oh my god. That’s freakin’ incredible. We need to bottle and sell this asap. We’d be millionaires.”
When I opened my eyes, Phoenix was watching me in a way that made my skin heat. “What does it taste like to you?”
“Like... these popsicles my dad and I used to get from the ice cream truck on our block back in New York, with a hint of sweet tea. What about you?”
He selected another piece, dipping it in chocolate before taking a bite. “Mountain air at dawn,” he said after a moment. “Wildflower honey, and sweet pears.” His eyes dipped, running over me slowly.
I reached for another one, but Phoenix beat me to it, picking up one of the star-shaped red berries and coating it in chocolate. “These are my favorite.”
I leaned forward again, but as I took the berry between my lips, a drop of chocolate escaped, landing on my bare stomach just above my navel.
I glanced down at it, about to reach for a napkin, when Phoenix went completely still.
His eyes darkened as they fixed on the chocolate drop, his breath catching audibly.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then, with agonizing slowness, he leaned down until his face was level with my stomach.
I felt the warm, wet touch of his tongue against my skin as he slowly licked away the drop of chocolate. The sensation sent a shiver through my entire body, goosebumps rising on my arms despite the warmth of the greenhouse.
He didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, his lips pressed against the spot where the chocolate had been, placing a soft kiss there that made my stomach muscles tense. Then another slightly higher. And another, tracing a path upward until he was hovering over me, his face inches from mine.
“Jupiter,” he whispered, my name a question on his lips.
I answered by closing the distance between us, pressing my mouth to his. He tasted of chocolate and exotic fruit. His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing gently across my cheekbone as the kiss deepened.
Phoenix’s hands slid to my waist, his touch warm against my bare skin.
when he pulled back, his once copper brown eyes were glowing bright green.
The canopy of purple-orange leaves began to move, responding to his magic.
The branches lowered and twisted inward, weaving together above and around us like living walls.
Within seconds, Phoenix had created a private cocoon of shimmering foliage that enclosed us completely.
I placed my hands on his broad shoulders and gently pushed him back until he was lying on the blanket. His breath hitched as I straddled him, my thighs bracketing his hips.
“Jupiter,” he murmured, his hands settling on my waist.
I leaned down and kissed him again, then sat back to pull his shirt up and over his head.
The sight of his bare chest made my mouth go dry.
Phoenix was built like a warrior god, with smooth bronze skin stretched over hard muscle, with intricate tattoos representing his Taurus heritage spiraling across his left pectoral and down his arm like vines.
“Holy shit, Phoenix,” I breathed, running my fingers across the ridges of his abdomen.