Page 52 of Feral Gods
"And you think I have no code?" Her question carries no offense, only genuine inquiry. "No principles worth upholding?"
The concept gives me pause. I've thought of Kaia in many ways—as the miraculous key to our awakening, as a tactical vulnerability requiring protection, as a surprisingly resilient survivor, and increasingly, as a desirable female whose company brings unexpected pleasure. But I've not considered her as a being with her own moral framework, her own code of honor.
"What are your principles, then?" I ask, fascinated by this new dimension of her character.
She resumes cleaning my wound, considering her answer with characteristic thoughtfulness. "Survival, yes. But not mere existence. Living with purpose. With meaning." Her fingers press slightly harder as she works salve into the deepest part of the gash. "And never abandoning those who've shown me kindness, regardless of convenience."
"We've shown you kindness?" The question emerges with uncharacteristic uncertainty. Our protection has been driven by multiple complex motivations—obligation for breaking our curse, strategic value of her purna bloodline, and increasingly, personal attachment. But kindness seems an inadequate description for the primal possessiveness all three of us have displayed.
"Yes," she answers simply, finishing with the wound and sitting back on her heels. "Behind all the growling and commanding and territorial displays, you three have shown me more genuine consideration than I've experienced in six years of captivity."
Her assessment strikes deeper than anticipated, challenging my self-perception. I've never thought of myself as kind—effective, loyal, lethal when necessary, but not gentle or considerate. Those qualities belonged to my life before transformation, buried beneath the primal nature of my gargoyle existence.
"You give us too much credit," I mutter, uncomfortable with her perception.
"Do I?" She rises gracefully, returning the healing salve to our supplies before coming back to sit beside me on the bench. "You hunted me food when I was too weak to forage. Zephyr taught me history and magic without condescension. Ravik..." A faint blush colors her cheeks. "Well, Ravik has his own ways of showing consideration."
The reminder of her intimacy with our commander sends a complicated surge of emotion through me—not pure jealousy as I might have expected, but something more nuanced. Desire, certainly. Competitive instinct, absolutely. But also a strange acceptance, an understanding that her connection with Ravik doesn't diminish whatever grows between her and myself.
"Does it bother you?" she asks, reading my expression with uncanny accuracy. "What happened between Ravik and me?"
I consider lying, presenting the façade of complete indifference, but something in her direct gaze demands honesty. "Yes. And no."
Her eyebrow quirks upward. "That's impressively noncommittal."
A rough laugh escapes me, the sound surprising us both. "I am not known for verbal nuance. I prefer direct action to complicated explanations."
"Then act directly," she challenges, her tone shifting subtly. "Tell me what you want, Thane. No evasions, no tactical considerations. Just the truth."
The directness of her challenge ignites something primal within me—battle-lust transformed into a different hunger entirely. I turn to face her fully, crimson eyes meeting her steady gaze without flinching.
"I want you," I state plainly, the admission bringing unexpected relief. "Have wanted you since you stood your ground against Ravik during the attack, showing more courage than warriors twice your size. I want to discover every sound you make in pleasure, every expression that crosses your face when touched just right."
Her breathing quickens, pupils dilating as she absorbs my blunt declaration. "And Ravik? The fact that he and I have already..."
"Ravik claimed first rights, as is his privilege as commander," I acknowledge, the words less difficult than anticipated. "But we are not dark elves, bound by rigid hierarchies of exclusive possession. We are gargoyles—primal, territorial, yes, but capable of more complex arrangements when necessary."
"When necessary," she repeats, a hint of amusement touching her lips. "Is that what I am? A necessity?"
"You are far more than that," I growl, the admission dragged from somewhere deep and previously untapped. "You are courage and resilience given physical form. You break curses with your voice and create magic with your touch. You tend wounds received defending your safety, then question philosophical principles as casually as discussing the weather."
Her eyes widen at my unexpected eloquence, and I find myself similarly surprised by the torrent of words that emerge when the dam of reticence finally breaks.
"I want you," I repeat, leaning closer, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against my face. "Not because you broke our curse or carry purna blood or represent strategic advantage. I want you because you are Kaia, and that has become reason enough."
Something flares in her expression—recognition, perhaps, or affirmation of her own desires. Without words, she closes the remaining distance between us, pressing her lips to mine in a kiss that begins tentatively but quickly blazes into something far more demanding.
I respond with carefully controlled passion, mindful of her fragility compared to my stone-like form. My hands rise to cradle her face, massive claws retracted to avoid inadvertent injury. She makes a small sound of approval against my mouth, her own hands coming up to explore the contours of my chest, tracing the patterns etched into my iron-black skin.
When we finally separate, her breathing comes quick and shallow, a becoming flush spreading across her cheeks. "That was... not what I expected."
"Disappointing?" I ask, suddenly uncertain despite her obvious physical response.
"Quite the opposite," she assures me, the flush deepening. "I didn't anticipate such... thoroughness from someone who claims to prefer direct action over words."
A rumbling laugh builds in my chest. "Words have their place. But demonstration is always more effective."
To prove my point, I kiss her again, this time allowing more of my primal nature to surface. My tongue explores the warm sweetness of her mouth while my hands move from her face to her waist, easily spanning her much smaller frame. When I lift her effortlessly onto my lap, she gasps in surprise before settling against me, her soft curves a delicious contrast to my unyielding form.
