23. Naeris
I woke slowly, drifting upward through layers of warmth and exhaustion so profound I felt boneless.
For one disorienting moment, I didn’t know where I was.
Then the steady rise and fall beneath my cheek registered: a broad chest. Warm skin.
Strong arms wrapped around me with a protectiveness so instinctive, even in sleep, that my throat tightened.
Thyros.
The memory of the night before rushed over me in a flood of sensation.
His mouth on mine. His whispered devotion.
The overwhelming tenderness with which he had touched me, as though I were something precious and fragile and infinitely cherished.
Most of all, afterward, the raw vulnerability in his eyes when he had asked me to tell him again that I was his.
A smile curved my lips before I opened my eyes. The room was dim, lit only by a soft glow that came out of the corners. From here, I could see the viewing windows, and outside them, the stars that stretched in silent splendor, cold and distant.
Inside Thyros’ arms, I had never felt safer. I shifted slightly, and his hold tightened immediately. A low rumble vibrated through his chest. “Do not even consider escaping.”
His voice was rough with sleep and devastatingly male.
I laughed softly. “I wasn’t.”
One amber eye cracked open. He looked adorably disheveled, if a seven-foot warrior forged in the Abyss could ever be called adorable. His gold-threaded hair was tousled, his expression unguarded in a way I doubted anyone else had ever seen.
My heart squeezed.
“Good,” he murmured, pulling me closer until I was practically draped over him. “Because I intend to keep you here for at least another century.”
I traced a lazy circle across his chest. “I’m not sure your friends would appreciate that.”
“Then they should have planned accordingly.”
I laughed again, the sound bubbled up from someplace lighter than I had felt in years.
He studied me carefully, some of the teasing fading from his expression. “Do you regret anything?”
The question was asked so quietly that for a moment it barely sounded like words. The vulnerability beneath it hit me with painful clarity. He was afraid of waking to find I wished to take back what we had shared.
I pushed myself up enough to look directly into his eyes. “No.”
The single word seemed to loosen something deep inside him, but I could still feel the uncertainty lingering through the bond. I brushed a strand of black-gold hair from his forehead. He was so devastatingly beautiful, it nearly made me want to cry. He was a god, through and through.
“Thyros, last night was…” I searched for words vast enough to contain what I felt. “The most honest thing that has ever happened to me.”
Emotion flickered across his face. “You are certain?”
I smiled. “For a male who can face cosmic horrors without blinking, you ask for a lot of reassurance.”
A faint flush darkened his golden skin. “I have never had anything worth losing before.”
The simplicity of the confession nearly broke me. I cupped his face between my hands. “You have me.”
His eyes closed briefly. When he opened them again, they shone with so much love that my chest ached.
“And you are content with that?” he asked softly. “With me?”
I rested my forehead against his. “I spent my life being told what I was supposed to become.”
A breeding vessel.
A bargaining chip.
A tool.
Then a rebel fighter.
A survivor.
But never simply a woman allowed to choose what she wanted. I let the truth settle between us. “I choose you.”
The words seemed to reverberate through the bond, bright and certain. Thyros inhaled sharply. I smiled through the sting of tears. “I choose your impossible intensity. Your arrogance. Your terrifying devotion. Your tendency to look at me as if I hung the stars.”
A shaky laugh escaped him.
“And I definitely choose the part where you cut off the arm of a monster trying to grab me.”
His mouth curved. “I was rather impressive.”
“Very.”
Heat flickered in his silver gaze. “You noticed.”
“Trust me, I noticed,” I confirmed with a smile. Who knew gods needed that much reassurance? But if he did, I was happy to give it to him.
The possessive satisfaction that swept through the bond made me laugh. Then my expression softened.
“I choose you, Thyros. Not because of prophecy. Not because of some ancient bond.” I pressed a kiss to his lips. “I choose you because when I’m with you, I feel more myself than I ever have.”
His arms tightened around me until I could feel the fierce beat of his heart beneath my palm.
“For millions of years,” he whispered, “I believed I was born to darkness.”
I lifted my head. “You were.”
Something shadowed his expression. Before doubt could take root, I touched his cheek. “So was every star.”
He stared at me. Then he kissed me with a reverence that stole my breath. When we finally parted, his voice was thick. “How is it possible that you exist?”
I smiled. “I was just wondering the same thing about you.”
For a while, we lay tangled together in comfortable silence.
The bond between us pulsed with warmth and contentment, no longer overwhelming or frightening.
It simply was. As natural as breathing. As inevitable as gravity.
I thought of Ella’s certainty. Of Nadine’s logic.
Of all the ways I had tried to convince myself that what I felt was too sudden, too impossible, too dangerous.
Now, wrapped in the arms of the male I loved, I understood something with breathtaking clarity.
This was not a trap. It was not surrender. It was not the loss of my freedom. It was the first time in my life that destiny had felt like a choice.
A soft chime sounded through the room.
Then Zapharos’ voice came over the comm. “Everyone to the bridge. We approach Nox Eternum.”
I exhaled slowly. The moment we had both been dreading had arrived. Thyros' expression hardened, though his hand never left my body. The Dark Abyss. The Harrowed One. The Vessel. Everything that had haunted him for his entire existence waited ahead.
I slid from the bed and reached for my clothes. Thyros rose beside me, all powerful grace and quiet intensity. When he turned to face me, I took his hand. His fingers closed around mine immediately.
“Ready?” he asked.
I looked up at him, at the man I now loved more than my own life. The man born of darkness. The man who had taught me what it meant to be cherished. The man I had chosen.
I laced my fingers through his. “Wherever you go, I go.”
Something fierce and luminous blazed across his face. Together, hand in hand, we entered the bridge.
The lighthearted confidence that sometimes filled the command deck was gone, replaced by a taut, electric tension that made the air feel charged. Everyone knew where we were going. Everyone understood what might be waiting for us there.
The bridge itself was vast, with sweeping holoscreens curving around the forward viewport.
Beyond the transparent panels, space stretched in an endless field of stars.
Except ahead, where the stars began to disappear.
I slowed involuntarily. At first, Nox Eternum looked like a flaw in reality itself.
A region of pure darkness where no darkness should exist. The void simply consumed the surrounding starlight, its edges shifting like black smoke suspended in water.
Violet and crimson currents flickered along its surface, illuminating immense spirals of debris caught in its gravitational pull.
Ruined ships, shattered asteroids, and fragments of long-dead worlds circled the abyss like offerings to a hungry god.
It was beautiful.
And horrifying.
The bond between Thyros and me tightened instinctively. His fingers closed around mine.
“Easy,” he murmured.
Only then did I realize I had stopped breathing. I forced air into my lungs. “How large is it?”
Nadine stood at the central console; her fingers danced over the controls with practiced precision. “Current measurements suggest the visible event horizon spans approximately one-point-three astronomical units.”
I blinked, having no idea what that meant but assuming it was a lot.
Ella, seated at the helm beside her, translated with a sympathetic smile. “It’s really, really big.”
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“You’re welcome.” She smirked and tucked one leg beneath her as she monitored incoming scans. “It’s also the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I once dated a guy who collected antique clown dolls.”
Zapharos stood behind her, one hand braced on her chair. “I still do not understand why that is unsettling.”
“Because clowns are evil,” Ella explained without looking up.
I looked at Thyros, and a current of not understanding passed between us that strengthened a different kind of bond between us. Because clowns? What by the stars was that?
At the front of the bridge, Dravok stood with his hands clasped behind his back, broad shoulders rigid as he studied the swirling darkness ahead. He looked as though he had been carved from sunlight and war.
“We have a problem,” Dravok announced without preamble.
Thyros groaned softly. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
Dravok ignored him. So did Zapharos, who filled us in. “"The vessel is secured in my stronghold in Nox Eternum.”
Relief flashed through the bond, followed almost immediately by suspicion from both Thyros and me. If the Vessel was safe, why weren't we on our way retrieving it?
Zapharos answered the unspoken question. “I can retrieve it myself and return within hours.”
“That is exactly what the Harrowed One expects,” Dravok warned.
He touched the console, and a new image appeared: the snarling face of a captured Moggaddesh. Even frozen in the holovid, the creature looked terrifying. Dravok folded his arms. "I extracted what information I could from one of our prisoners.”
Ella shuddered, “I’m guessing that was not a pleasant conversation.”
“It was not a conversation.” Dravok corrected her.