Aelith lies still, but colour’s returned to his face. His markings pulse, faint but sure. Dawson lies next to him, his chest rising and falling again. And right there, covering the centre of his chest, glowing faintly violet?—
The same sigils as Aelith’s.
I gape. “Is that…?”
Kael exhales, voice rough. “It looks like a full bond.”
“Did we start it or… finish it?” My words wobble, tired and stunned. “Because that looks final to me.”
He doesn’t answer. Neither of us knows. But what we do know—without doubt—is that they’re alive. And for now, that’s enough.
We leavethe medical wing without fanfare. No triumphant music. No fireworks. Just tired legs and heavy hearts and the faintest flicker of hope that things might—finally—be okay.
Dawson and Aelith still aren’t awake, and Shanae is waiting for us outside. We explain everything to her—what happened in the citadel, the library, Varek, Pax.
She’s quiet for a long moment before she says, firm as steel, “You’re not going back for him.”
I stiffen immediately. “Excuse me?”
Her eyes are kind, but her voice leaves no room for argument. “He knows what he’s doing, Sonny. And you—both of you—are no good to anyone if you collapse trying to play the hero.”
“But—”
“No.” One word. Final.
And I hate it. Every part of me screams that we should do more, fight harder. But Kael’s hand finds mine, grounding me. And I realise… I have nothing left to give. Not tonight.
The walk back to our room is quiet. The kind of quiet that rings a little too loud in your ears. Either the storm’s passed—or it’s still waiting just around the corner. But those are problems for tomorrow.
Inside our quarters, we don’t speak. We strip without ceremony, clothes dropped in a trail from the door to the bed. I sink onto the mattress, muscles aching, every nerve in my body raw and tender. Kael moves towards the wall of piping and returns a minute later with washrags, still warm from the basin.
He kneels beside me and begins to clean me. It’s not meant to be sensual. He’s careful, methodical, quiet. Wiping the dried blood from my skin, dabbing gently around my temple, where a faint bruise is forming. His touch is reverent, almost devotional.
But my cock still stirs, twitching with attention. The exhaustion tries to smother it, but I’ve spent the whole day dancing between life and death, and right now my body just wants to feel something.
Kael notices—of course he does. He smiles, small and soft.
“We need a proper bath,” I mumble, half embarrassed. “This is like some ragged battlefield spa day.”
He chuckles, low and warm. “Tomorrow. Today… this is enough.”
He finishes wiping me down, then himself, and tucks me beneath the sheets like I’m something precious. The move alone almost undoes me. No one’s ever done that. Not for me.
I blink up at him, heart thudding unevenly. “I don’t think I can sleep. I’m too wired.”
“I’ll help.” He presses a kiss to my temple, then my jaw, then my lips—slow and sweet, deep and sure. It’s not a kiss meant to arouse. It’s a promise. But when his mouth travels lower, and he slips beneath the covers, I feel him smile against my hip.
His tongue flicks. I gasp. The kiss he presses to the head of my cock is maddeningly gentle. Worshipful. Then he takes me into his mouth—and I forget everything.
Stars burst behind my eyes. My hips jerk, muscles tightening, heat flooding through me. His hand anchors my thigh, holding me down, teasing as he sucks with the kind of focus only a bodyguard could bring to a mission. And fuck, is it effective.
It takes maybe two minutes. Maybe less. I explode with a choked gasp, my hand buried in his hair, my mind blissfully blank for the first time in hours.
My orgasm washes over me like an ocean. And then… I crash.
I can barely roll over. I don’t even reach for the sheets. I just lie there, blinking at the ceiling, boneless and reeling and wrecked. Kael crawls up beside me, pulling the covers over us both. His arms wrap around me, protective and warm, and he presses a kiss to the back of my neck.
“You should come,” I mumble. “I didn’t mean to… just… fall asleep on your?—”
