Page 56 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

And Gods, I obey.

My cock finds her pussy with a reverence that aches, the first press of me into her so excruciatingly gentle it steals the breath from my lungs. She gasps—a fractured, broken sound—and her lips part against mine, her exhale a hymn against my mouth.

"You feel—" Her words dissolve into a moan as I sink deeper, my hips rolling in a rhythm older than time. "Oh— oh, you feel like?—"

"Tell me," I growl, my voice raw. My hands frame her face, thumbs brushing the tears already spilling from her sightless eyes. "Tell me how I feel."

She arches beneath me, her nails biting into my shoulders. "Like coming home," she chokes out. "Like— Gods—like finally being whole."

Her fingers tremble over my skin, tracing every scar, every ridge of old violence, reading me like a psalm written in blood. She doesn’t need sight to see me—not when her touch unravels me, when her breath against my throat is the only scripture I’ll ever worship.

I kiss her wounds in turn—the bruises, the split skin, the places where the world has carved its cruelty into her. My mouth is a confession, my tongue an absolution. I worship her like this, with lips and teeth and whispered promises, until her body is trembling beneath mine, until her cries are the only thing I hear above the roar of the waterfall.

This isn’t fucking.

This isn’t the desperate, teeth-bared rutting—the kind that left us bloody and hollow, two animals seeking solace in the dark.

No.

This is ruin.

This is the walls coming down, stone by stone, until there’s nothing left but her breath against my throat, my name a ragged plea on her lips. The waterfall howls around us, relentless,deafening, but all I hear is her—the hitch in her voice when I sink deeper, the way her body clutches at me like she’s drowning and I’m the only air left.

"Look at me," I murmur against her mouth, though I know she can’t. Still, her lashes flutter, her face turning toward mine like a flower to the sun. "Look at me when you come."

And she does.

Her climax crashes over her like a storm, her back bowing, her thighs tightening around my hips as she shudders beneath me. Her cry is muffled against my skin, her tears cutting through the dirt on her cheeks—blood and salt and something too raw to name.

Mine fall too, lost in the dark tangle of her hair as I follow her over the edge, my groan swallowed by her mouth, our hearts hammering the same broken rhythm.

Every thrust is a vow. We’re still here.

After everything—we’re still fucking here.

After, we’re wrecked. Sprawled in the moss, limbs tangled, breaths ragged as the river’s pulse. She presses her face to my chest, her bandages damp with tears and the ghost of my touch. I stroke her hair, my hands unsteady, and let the quiet wrap around us like a promise.

The night is soft now, the blade’s edge dulled, the world stitched back together in the aftermath of us.

We are ruin. We are alive. And in this moment, that is enough.

Three days until House Vaerathis. Three days until hell. But here, now—there is only her. Only this. And for a stolen moment, it’s enough.

Eventually, the chill of the morning seeps into our skin, reminding us we can’t stay entangled forever. Gently, I help her back into her tattered clothes, pressing a soft kiss to her brow. She lingers against me, fingertips resting on my lips asthough memorizing my face. My chest aches with tenderness and sorrow at the same time.

When we’re dressed, we remain seated on the moss, water droplets glinting on our arms. I draw her into my lap, ignoring the dull throb of my injuries. I cradle her in my arms, and she rests her head against my collarbone.

She speaks first, voice quiet. “Thank you. For… for letting us be normal, if only for a moment.”

I press my cheek to her hair. “Thank you for wanting that with me.” A fragile smile tugs my mouth. “I never thought I could feel anything like… like real connection again.”

She draws a shaky breath. “I was so frightened. I— I still am. But if this is all the time we have left, I don’t want regrets.” Her bandaged eyes lift toward me. “I love you, Daeva.”

My heart constricts, that unfamiliar word stirring both warmth and fear. I rest my forehead against hers. “I… love you too,” I manage, voice catching. “I don’t know if I can ever repay what you’ve given me, but I can… at least promise to try.”

She cups my cheek. “That’s all I need.”

We linger in the hush, the waterfall’s symphony swirling around us. Then, a conviction settles in my gut, heavy and certain. The vow I’ve been skirting around for days now crystallizes.I can’t let this contract doom her. I won’t allow the House to manipulate us.I swallow, gathering courage.

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