Page 57 of Burned to Obey

When we separate, exhaustion carves lines in her face. “We should rest,” she says. “Tomorrow, Thakur might try something else. The Senate might send word. We have to be ready.”

I exhale, agreeing. “Yes. Let’s go.”

Her gaze drifts to me, half-lidded with fatigue. “My quarters or yours?”

A faint smile tugs at my mouth. “I prefer mine, if only to keep a watchful guard outside. You’re safer there.”

She nods, hiding a yawn behind her hand. Together, we leave the storeroom, navigating quiet corridors under torchlight. We pass only a few patrolling guards, who bow their heads. None dare question us. My horns tingle with awareness that our dynamic is changing—once they saw her as a prisoner, now theysee her openly by my side, brand or not. Let them whisper. We can’t hide our bond any longer.

Reaching my quarters, I lead her inside. The space is dim, a single lantern left burning. She stands in the center, scanning the room. Just last night we were here, lost in a fervent exploration. My chest clenches with the reminder. She turns to me, a shadow of a smile on her lips, though worry still haunts her eyes.

I secure the door, crossing to her. “No more running,” I say softly, resting my hand on her hip. “We face it all. Together.”

She inhales, leaning into my touch. “Yes,” she whispers.

I trace my thumb over her lower lip, recalling how it felt to kiss her in the forge, all desperate need. Here, in the hush of my room, we share a quieter intimacy. She lifts her arms around my neck, pressing her body into mine. My heart thrums with renewed desire, a gentler but no less potent wave.

We kiss slowly, a reaffirmation of the vow we made among the dusty coals. No frantic hurry this time—just relief that we’re both alive, that we choose each other despite Senate threats or Nullborn secrets. Each caress of her lips on mine soothes the day’s tension, her hands drifting up my horns with careful reverence. My breath shudders. We stand like that for a long moment, letting the heat rise between us once more.

Her voice emerges ragged against my mouth. “Will you— can we…?”

My horns buzz in answer. I nod, guiding her to the bed. She moves with a softness that tells me she’s exhausted, yet craving closeness. Our clothes slip away with unhurried care, no frantic rush. The lantern’s glow reveals her bruises healing, the brand still scabbed but proud on her forearm. My chest tightens with emotion. She notices my expression, tipping her head questioningly.

I run a thumb over the crest. “This brand once felt like a chain on you. Now, let it be a symbol of our choice.”

She nods, eyes shimmering. “Our choice,” she echoes, voice trembling with emotion.

We slip under the blankets, limbs tangling in quiet hunger. We’ve done this once before, but the rawness still startles me—a deeper vulnerability unlocked by near-loss and secrets bared. Her hands explore my fur, mindful of my ribcage and the faint bandage. Each careful touch lights sparks in my nerves. I reciprocate, trailing my palm down her spine, savoring every small hitch in her breath.

This time, we move at a slower pace, easing tension with each caress. She nestles against my chest, lips teasing my shoulder, then my throat. I stifle a low groan, sliding a hand to her hip, pressing her closer. She exhales softly, eyes half-lidded in anticipation. Our mouths meet, tongues brushing in a gentle dance that sends warmth pooling in my core.

As I slide into her, we both gasp—a spark of pleasure igniting something deeper. Urgency gives way to reverence, every motion a silent promise. She clings to me, face tucked into my neck. My horns graze the pillow, her soft whimpers urging me on. Her marked arm rests against my side, not just a symbol of rebellion, but of us—defiant, united.

We take our time, letting each wave build with unhurried intensity. Her nails rake my back, urging me deeper, and I comply with a low rumble of appreciation. Our bodies rock in a slow, captivating rhythm. She trembles, whispering my name between heated kisses, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes—tears of relief, of acceptance, of letting go.

Her breathing quickens, muffling a cry against my chest as her release takes hold. I follow close behind, groaning into her hair, hips bucking in a final surge. The moment engulfs us, forging a second promise in the hush of this fortress bed. Wecollapse together, sweat slicking our skin, hearts drumming a shared beat.

For a while, neither of us speaks. We lie tangled, chest to chest, legs entwined. The lantern’s flicker outlines our shapes on the walls, casting faint shadows. Eventually, I brush damp strands from her face, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. She meets my gaze, eyes brimming with a fierce vulnerability that matches my own.

Her voice emerges breathless. “I know we never said… but it feels like we’re forging something bigger than brand or vow.”

My throat constricts. I run a thumb across her cheek. “Yes. I feel it.” I swallow. “Words like ‘love’ might be too small for this, or maybe too big. But I choose this. I choose you.”

She smiles, a tremulous smile that lights her tired face. “Then I choose you, too. Nullborn secrets or not, Senate be damned.”

Relief surges in my chest. I draw her closer, letting her rest against me. We exchange a final series of soft kisses, no haste, just reassurance that we found each other against all odds. I sense the battle waiting outside these walls—Thakur’s schemes, the Senate’s suspicions, the potential for open confrontation. But for now, in this bed, we hold each other like two survivors forging a future from the wreckage of forced deals.

Exhaustion settles over us, limbs tangled and hearts steadying. She rests her head on my shoulder, breath even. I comb fingers through her hair as her eyes drift shut—a trust I never dared hope for. The sigil she bears—my crest—feels less like a chain now, and more like a flag we both chose to fly.

Eyes fixed on the roof beams above, I let my horns sink into the pillow, mind spinning despite the stillness. My heart still thrums with the aftermath of unguarded intimacy. We have no illusions about the difficulties ahead. The Senate might come for her. My fortress might become a battlefield of politics. But we re-committed ourselves tonight. She’s no longer a prisoner Iprotected out of guilt or forced vow. She’s my partner in every sense, forging a bond that stares fear in the face.

I close my eyes, letting the hush cradle our entwined bodies. If Thakur tries poison again, if the Senate tries a hearing, if everything falls apart, I’ll still have this moment to cling to. A vow I share with the woman who wields nullborn magic, who overcame terror to save my life, who let me see her soul. We might not speak the word “love,” but the truth resonates in every breath we share.

She shifts, pressing her lips to my collarbone in a sleepy gesture of comfort. My chest tightens with gratitude. I murmur her name, voice rough, promising silently I’ll do everything to shield her from the storm that’s coming. And if that means standing against a legion of senators or harnessing her forbidden power to keep her safe, so be it. We re-commit not just to survival but to each other.

Tomorrow, we face the Bastion’s demands again, the swirl of Senate infiltration. But tonight, I hold her in my arms, our bodies warmed by the lingering glow of acceptance. The flicker of the lantern fades, and we drift into sleep, hearts bound in a vow beyond words—one sealed by vulnerability and reborn in the ashes of adversity.

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