The bond flares between us the instant I draw her down to me. It’s fire and tide, desperation and devotion.
She moves, and the rhythm of her body becomes a song that only we know.
Her head tips back, exposing the pale column of her throat, and I cannot stop myself from worshiping her — lips, teeth, tongue, all devoted to reminding her she is mine.
She arches her back, and her breasts hover in front of me—perfect to feast on.
So I do.
I lick and suck while her sheath grips and quivers around my cock.
Her sounds are wild, untamed, the kind of music that threads through bone and marrow.
Each gasp, each moan is a symphony for my soul, a storm I gladly drown in.
Her warm gasps are like a symphony to my soul, and I can feel her heartbeat moving faster and faster as her rhythm increases.
Gods, this woman. She is not just important to me — sheisme. My life. My purpose. When she rides me, when she opens herself so wholly, I feel her everywhere. In every vein, every nerve, every breath. The bond carries her heartbeat into mine, faster, harder, until we are one pulse, one need, one endless wave cresting together.
“That’s it, Telya,” I growl, voice ragged with awe. “Show me. Show me what I mean to you.”
She answers with fire, her body grinding, her cries ringing through me until I can no longer tell where I end and she begins. The tide takes us, pulls us under, and in that surrender, I know the truth.
Phoebe is not only my viyella.
She is my world.
She is my redemption.
And I will never stop proving it to her.
When we are slick with sweat and sated, our bodies slumped together in a tangle of limbs and breath, I feel it at last—the crushing guilt I’ve carried for centuries loosening its grip.
It doesn’t vanish entirely. Scars never do.
But it lifts enough that I can finally draw a full breath without pain.
The absence of that weight is humbling, almost frightening in its unfamiliarity.
She stirs against me, her lips brushing my chest.
“What is it?” she asks softly.
“Nothing, my love,” I murmur, though my voice cracks under the truth. I tip my chin down, press my mouth to her hair, and whisper, “It’s just—you give me everything.”
She tilts her head up, her eyes glowing in the dim light.
“What do I give you?”
I swallow hard, the answer pulled from me like a confession.
“Peace. You give me peace.”
Her breath catches, her hand flattening over my heart as if she can feel the truth thrum beneath her palm.
“I love you, Kael.”
“And I love you, Phoebe, more than life itself.”
