Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
My body refuses to move too quickly this morning. The light filtering through the carved openings of Varek’s quarters is muted, green-tinted as always, but softer than usual, like even this world understands it should tread carefully today.
The air still smells faintly of smoke and iron. Even here. Even after hours of washing, resting, breathing, trying to pretend we’re not carrying the weight of yesterday in every part of us.
I don’t move.
Not yet.
Because Varek is still asleep, or close enough to it.
He doesn’t sleep like humans do. I figured that out quickly enough. There’s always a level of awareness in him, something coiled beneath the surface, but right now it’s quieter than I’ve ever felt it. Not gone, just… eased.
My head is resting against his chest, one arm draped across his waist, my fingers curled loosely into the warmth of his skin. His breathing is steady beneath me, deep and slow, and the rhythm of it anchors something inside me that hasn’t stopped vibrating since the moment that rift snapped shut.
I strengthen my hold on him slightly. I don’t want to wake him, but I need to confirm he’s still here. Still solid and real.
Yesterday…. Fuck. Yesterday feels like something that happened weeks ago and five seconds ago all at once.
We spent the day cleaning up. That’s the polite way of putting it.
The real version is, we spent the day gathering the dead, tending the wounded, rebuilding what we could, and trying not to look too long at the faces of the ones we couldn’t save. The settlement didn’t fall, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t cost us.
It always costs. And through all of it, I stayed close to Varek. Closer than I ever have to anyone.
Ten metres is probably the furthest I got from him at any point, and even that felt like too much. Every time he moved, I tracked the distance without thinking. Every time I lost sight of him, my heart ached until I found him again.
The funny part? I wasn’t the only one.
Varek didn’t say anything. Not once. But I felt it in the way his attention never fully left me.
In the way he repositioned without thinking to keep me within reach.
In the way the bond sat between us, not strained like before, but…
alert. Protective. Like it had learned something from yesterday and wasn’t about to let it happen again without a fight.
And when I saw him—
When I came out of the trees and saw him on his knees—
The memory hits forcefully.
His shoulders dropping. The way he looked like something had been ripped out of him. How he hadn’t even opened his eyes at first.
Thinking I’d left… that I’d chosen Earth.
That should have broken me.
And yeah, it hurt.
Seeing him like that—raw, undone—it hurt in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever fully unpack.
But it also—
I huff a quiet breath against his chest, the sound almost lost in the quiet of the room.
It also made something inside me settle. Because that was the moment it stopped being theoretical, stopped being “maybe.” Stopped being something I could pretend wasn’t real.
He needs me.
Not in a weak way or in a way that takes anything from him, but in a way that… matters. In a way that means something.
And yeah, that did something to me.
I shift slightly, careful not to put weight where I know he’s still healing from yesterday’s fight, and tilt my head just enough to look up at him.
His eyes are open.
“Creepy,” I murmur.
A faint curve touches his mouth. “You were watching me.”
“Yeah, well,” I say, pushing myself up just enough to meet his gaze properly, “someone has to make sure you’re still breathing.”
“I am.”
“Good. It would’ve been awkward otherwise.”
That gets a low rumble out of him. It’s not quite a laugh, but close enough that I feel it where I’m pressed against him.
Silence hangs again.
I trace the line of his chest absently, my fingers following the subtle differences in his skin, the shifts in colour and texture that I’ve come to recognise without really thinking about it. It still amazes me sometimes how quickly something so foreign can become familiar.
How quickly he became familiar.
“I didn’t go,” I say quietly.
The words feel obvious. Stupid, almost. Of course I didn’t go. I’m here. But it still matters to say it.
His gaze softens, a deeper emotion moving beneath the surface. “I know.”
I huff softly. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
I swallow, emotion filling my chest that has nothing to do with fear this time. “I could have,” I admit. There’s no point pretending otherwise. The truth sits there between us, solid and unavoidable.
“I know,” he says again, his tone one of understanding.
That makes it worse… and better at the same time.
I shift fully, pushing up until I’m hovering over him, my hands braced carefully on either side of his shoulders. The movement is slow and deliberate, giving him every chance to stop me if he wants to.
He doesn’t. His hands come up instead, settling at my waist, steadying me as I move.
I look down at him, really look this time, taking in the strength of him, the quiet intensity that never fully leaves his gaze, the way he watches me like I’m something worth knowing.
“Varek,” I say, and my voice comes out quieter than I expect.
He stills slightly under me.
“I love you.”
The words hang between us for a second, heavier than anything else we’ve said to each other so far.
His hands tighten at my waist. “I know what love is,” he says slowly.
My stomach flips. That… is not the response I was expecting. But before I can spiral into that, he continues.
“In my language,” he says, “there is a word for it. It does not translate directly.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” I mutter.
That gets another low rumble from him. “It is ‘Laereth’,” he says.
The word rests between us, unfamiliar and heavy, like it carries more weight than just sound.
“What does it mean?” I ask.
His gaze doesn’t leave mine. “It is not only feeling,” he says. “It is recognition. Choice… bond. It is the understanding that another life has become… integral to your own.”
My chest constricts with a wave of emotion.
“It means,” he continues, quieter now, “that your existence changes the shape of mine. Permanently.”
Yeah. That hits hard. I let out a slow breath, my forehead dropping briefly to his, the contact grounding in a way I didn’t realise I needed. “Okay,” I murmur. “That works too.”
His hand slides up my back, fingers running over my dreadlocks before settling at the nape of my neck, holding me there. “You are my Laereth,” he says.
Fuck.
That—
Yeah.
That does things.
I huff a quiet laugh that’s more breath than sound, then shift again, pressing closer, letting my weight settle more fully against him. “Good,” I say, voice softer now. “Because you’re mine too.”
The kiss that follows isn’t rushed. It’s not desperate. It’s… deliberate and slow. A quiet exploration of something that doesn’t need to prove itself anymore.
His mouth moves against mine with a familiarity that still surprises me, the heat of him steady, the connection between us no longer sharp and overwhelming but deep and constant, like it’s settled into something that just is.
I breathe him in.
Feel him.
The bond hums, not frantic, not strained, just… there.
Right.
I shift slightly, sliding my hands from his shoulders to his chest, tracing over him as I pull back just enough to look at him again. “We’ve got about five minutes before reality kicks our arses,” I murmur.
“Yes. My heat is not active so my knot will not form.”
“Good to know.” A small grin tugs at my mouth despite everything. “I vote we make the most of it.”
Heat twinkles in his gaze, followed closely by unspoken agreement.
His hold doesn’t waver as he guides me closer, not taking control but meeting me where I am, matching my pace, my intent.
This isn’t urgency or escape. It’s connection and reassurance. It’s us choosing each other again, here, now, before the world comes crashing back in. His tongue slides against mine. It’s firm and long and sexy as fuck.
“Just to be clear,” I say, pulling back from the kiss, breath still uneven, “if I suck you off—put your cock in my mouth”—because now is not the time for vague phrasing—“your knot definitely won’t make an appearance and latch onto my throat, right?
” I’m only half joking as I know logistically the knot is at the base, but still.
“My… cock in your mouth”—his voice drops into gravel, thick with want—“will definitely release, and I would like that very much. But I would never put you at risk by blocking your airway.”
I huff out a breath that almost turns into a laugh. “Good to know.”
“And your cock in my mouth,” he continues, gaze darkening, “is that something you would like, my mate?”
I bite my bottom lip. Every time he says that—mate—it hits differently. Rougher. Hungrier. I already love the rasp in his voice, but when he’s like this, keyed up and wanting, it does things to me I’m not even pretending to control.
“Most definitely.” I nod, then immediately choke out a strangled moan when he cups me, his large fingers sliding over the slit with deliberate pressure.
“Then let us start with you sitting here.”
“Fuck—” My arms windmill as he lifts me without warning and drops me onto his chest. I brace one hand against the wall to steady myself, breath catching. “Bloody hell, warn a bloke.”
Not that I’m complaining.
That thought disappears entirely when I look down and meet the molten heat in his silver eyes.
“Understood,” he says, voice low. “This is your next warning.”
It’s all the notice I get before he drags me closer, positioning me exactly where he wants me—my cock pressed against his lips, his intent unmistakable.
My grin vanishes into a hitched inhale when he leans in and takes me into his mouth.