Chapter 18 Woven – Vexar
WOVEN
VEXAR
“IWILL,” I answer. I have already told her as much, but she is slow to trust, and I cannot blame her for that.
“Ok,” she says, nodding her head like she is coming to terms with everything. “You said it’s permanent? The bond?”
Everything I know about the Zhyrrak is mired in conflicting information, and none of it is aligning with the actual experience. It is difficult to be certain of anything.
I glance down at the bandage around her knee and resist the urge to give her my honest assessment of our situation.
If she panics, it will be nearly impossible to ensure her safety.
And considering the conflicting information I have, there is every chance the sasi-temwá is just another myth inflated over time.
All I know is that she should have a choice in this.
Even if that choice is mostly an illusion.
“If you accept it, it will be permanent,” I say.
“Right,” she says slowly.
“You must choose for yourself. I will support your decision, no matter what it is.”
Her face relaxes further. “I get to choose,” she says on an exhale.
“You get to choose.”
“And I don’t have to choose now?”
“No.”
She shifts, and the edge of her dress brushes the inside of my thigh. I suck in a breath.
Her expression turns curious, and she presses her hand to my cheek in an unexpectedly tender touch.
“I still don’t know how to process all of this,” she whispers.
Small fingers trace the contours of my cheek, down the length of my nose, and over my lips.
“It’s like being in a dream. A very beautiful dream.
” Her gaze is penetrating, diving into my very soul. “A dream I don’t want to wake up from.”
No one has ever looked at me this way. No one has ever touched me this way. I spent years of my life alone, having no idea I was missing anything at all. But I was. I was missing her, and I cannot go back to that island of isolation I once called home.
I brush her hair back from her face. “Then do not wake up. Stay with me,” I whisper, almost like a prayer.
Trust her, a voice says from the depths of my soul.
“I’m so comfortable with you, and I don’t get it. It’s almost like,” she pauses and takes a breath, “I don’t know. Like being around you is giving me a piece of myself back.”
“Zhyrrak bonds are strong.”
“Zhyrrak,” she says. “What does that mean? My translator doesn’t know the word.”
My hands are resting on her hips, but I do not remember putting them there.
“It means two hearts beating as one. And it has not happened in a very, very long time.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“No one really knows.”
She pulls my face closer to hers, and her eyes drop to my mouth. My stomach tenses. I can feel her intention. I know what she wants, and I want to give it to her. But I…
“I have never kissed anyone,” I confess.
Her eyes flick between mine, and it’s clear her vacillating indecision is gone. “Do you want to?”
“Yes.” I wet my lips.
“And you trust me?”
“Yes.”
She gives me a small smile as her eyes search my face and then close. Her breath ghosts over my mouth, and the soft contours of her lips brush mine.
For a moment, I am lost. The sensation is overwhelming. My lips tingle and heat. The pads of my fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips. Then she does it again, lips parting and caressing mine.
Cautiously, I emulate her movements, and the entire universe narrows down to a single point. I do it again, and desire floods our connection.
Her fingers grasp at my neck, and she breaks the kiss, pressing her forehead to mine and leaving enough room between us to suck in a ragged breath. A haze of pleasure clouds my mind.
“Holy shit,” she gasps. Her hands tremble against my skin. Heart thuds wildly in my chest. And I feel her slipping between my cracks, into every corner of my being like a warm, sensual flood. Whatever barriers I built between us shatter.
“Zar’vok,” I say, my voice deep and heavy. “I feel you everywhere.” I grip her waist and pull her against me as her mouth returns mine.
The tip of her tongue brushes the seam of my lips. Heat pulses down my spine. I match her stroke with one of my own, and she opens for me, beckoning me in. She tastes better than any fantasy. Like chaos and fire.
What began as a slow exploration becomes unguarded and carnal. Her fingers knit into my hair, her hips press against the insides of my thighs, and she moans. The sound is unlike any I have ever heard. It is a confession, a plea, and an endorsement all at once.
I break the kiss for the barest of moments. “That sound,” I say, staring down into her eyes, seeing the fire burning behind them.
More.
My mouth crashes back into hers as I wrap an arm around her back, desperate to keep her here. Her tongue plunges into my mouth. Fire burns my veins. I want to capture her, devour her.
More.
Instinct begins to drive me. My hand reaches for the nape of her neck, and I tilt her head back so I can deepen the kiss. She moves with me, yielding to my touch in a way that is both shameless and trusting.
It is addictive. She is addictive.
“Fuck. Why are you so good at this?” she moans before returning her mouth to mine and letting her hands explore my chest.
I am a good fighter and a good student. This is not so different. Matching strike for strike. Anticipating your opponent. Finding their weakness and exploiting it. Moving, lunging, dodging, dancing together. But it is so much better than fighting could ever be.
Her fingers continue down my chest, and when they reach my abdomen, a deep, uncontrollable rumble rolls through me.
Her body quivers in response. The power we wield over each other is indescribable.
I cannot tell if it is the bond or just …
us, but it is clear she could control me with a single drag of her finger, flick of her tongue, or whispered word in my ear.
“What’s happening?” she asks, lips swollen and the color of ripe veladoo.
I trace the line of those lips and then the curve of her jaw with my thumb.
“Our hearts made a choice,” I say, before following the path of my thumb with my mouth, tasting her skin and nearly falling apart at how perfect every inch of her is, how it feels like every part of me was carefully crafted for the singular purpose of loving her.
She has done the impossible. She has awoken the ancient miracle of my people, and I will worship her accordingly. I kiss and lick down her neck, tasting the salt on her skin and feeling her pulse beneath my tongue. The Zhyrrak chose her. It chose us. Amara is my mate, my destiny, my Queen.
When my lips return to hers, I feel a shift. A deep acceptance. Her hands slide down my arms. A rumble vibrates my chest. Then a pleasure unlike any I have ever known overtakes me, and a single word fills my mind.
Mine.
Her hand presses over my heart.
She has accepted our bond. There is no question.
I feel her soul weaving itself into mine, rebuilding me from the ground up, threading us together, and flooding me with a power that feels as ancient and as raw as the stone beneath us.
This is what my ancestors sang about.
This is why they were mighty warriors.
This is how I will protect my Queen.