Page 49 of Claimed By Stone
He followed, roaring my name like it was a promise.
And even though no magic flared, no bond sealed, I felt it in my heart.
I was his. And somehow, impossibly, he was mine.
The room was quiet, save for the ragged sound of our breathing slowly evening out. Thavros’s skin was warm against my cheek, his heart pounding steady and strong in his chest.
His arms wrapped around me like a shield, and I let myself melt into him.
I had no answers. No certainty about what I’d been sent to do, or who I might have become under their control. But in this moment, wrapped in him, I wasn’t a weapon. I was just… loved.
He slipped from me, and I ached for him to fill me again, but as he moved, his release began to drain from me. It had felt like a lot while it was happening, but now it was pooling around me. He got out of bed to clean up. He returned with a cloth to clean me up and fresh blankets for the bed.
Luckily, he took care of everything, because my legs couldn't have held me up if I tried.
Once he had everything sorted, he settled back into bed with me. I turned into him instantly, resting my head on his chest as I traced my fingers along his cool skin.
"Are you in pain? There is a salve I can prepare," he said before pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
"No. I feel good. There is an ache between my legs," I looked up into his deep eyes. "But I like it."
He sighed as a contentment rumbled deep in his chest. We lay there for a long, quiet moment, basking in the newfound love we had for each other. Although I'm not sure how newly found it was. Part of me felt like I had always loved him, like I had always known he was mine.
That thought allowed the dread to return. The what-ifs began to creep in. What if I had been sent here for a purpose that wouldhurt all these wonderful orcs who were becoming dear to me? What if I hurt Thavros? I could not bear that thought.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, not even sure why. For the silence. For the secrets. For being afraid.
His lips brushed my temple. “There’s nothing you ever need to be sorry for. You’re mine. And I’ve got you.”
I swallowed hard, throat thick with emotion. “Even if I break?”
“You won’t,” he said fiercely. “But even if you did, I’d put you back together.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks. “I think I was made for you.”
“Iknowyou were.”
He pulled the furs over us, curling his massive frame around mine. My eyelids grew heavy, but sleep didn’t scare me tonight. Not with him holding me. Not with this new ache between my ribs, something like hope. Or the ache between my legs, that felt like love.
Tomorrow would come with its questions and its shadows.
But for tonight, I was warm. I was safe.
I was his.
Chapter 22
Seraphina
Iwoke slowly, expecting the warmth of Thavros beside me, the weight of his arm draped across my belly, his breath on my shoulder.
But the bed was cold.
For one fleeting, panicked moment, I thought it had all been a dream—that I had turned to stone again, that I was alone.
The quiet scratch of a quill pulled my attention.
I sat up, blinking toward the far side of the chamber. He was seated at the table, hunched over a scroll, the firelight from the hearth painting golden lines across his bare shoulders. He was still shirtless, his thick braid tied back with leather, and his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
