Page 136 of Burning Ice
Mirel did, crying out softly as he spilled into his throat.
Kylix bent again and kissed his mouth, holding there, breathing him in. Their lips brushed again and again, mouths slow and open.
Mirel sighed into the kiss, body still trembling faintly, and Kylix held him through it, one hand resting over his chest. The bond thrummed quiet now, low and sure, a hum of something whole.
They stayed like that, limbs tangled, breathing together in the dark. Kylix’s hand didn’t move from Mirel’s chest. He felt each heartbeat, slow and steady now, like a rhythm written just for him. Mirel’s eyes fluttered open once, then closed again. His fingers traced lightly over Kylix’s wrist, then settled on his forearm, keeping him close without needing to speak.
“You’re safe,” Kylix whispered against his temple. “With me. Always.”
Mirel didn’t reply with words. He only exhaled, soft and trusting, and let himself sink further into the warmth between them.
Minutes passed that way. The silence wasn’t cold. It wasn’t lonely. It was full.
Kylix had never understood peace until he saw it breathing beneath his hands.
“You’re everything,” he breathed. “And I’ll never stop wanting you. Even if the bond hadn’t chosen us, I would have found you. Wanted you. Burned for you anyway.”
Kylix reached down to pull the blanket over Mirel’s shoulder, tucking him in gently. The music still played, faint strings filling the quiet. Mirel’s breath evened out quickly, his eyes fluttering closed.
Kylix stayed there for a long moment, just watching him in silence. He could watch him forever. That breath, that mouth, the way sleep softened everything but never made him less sharp. Mirel wasn’t peace, he was permanence. And if the world tried to take him, Kylix would burn it down.
The bond hummed faintly beneath their ribs, not a command, only a quiet thread that pulled one heartbeat toward the other. Each breath found its rhythm in the next. When Kylix looked down, the faint light from the speakers shimmered over their skin, reflecting the soft smoke that still hung in the air. The music changed to a low instrumental pulse, something tender that never quite resolved. He could feel Mirel’s chest rise beneath his hand, steady and human, the simplest sound in the world. It anchored him more than any vow.
Two lives. One rhythm. The empire’s last defense made of bodies at rest.
Fire curled into frost, and somewhere between the two, the world decided to keep turning.
When dawn came, Kylix woke to find the frost spelling his name across the wall.
EPILOGUE
“Don’t cry, Mama.”
Mirel leaned over to dry his mother’s tears, but it didn’t matter. Celia kept on sniffing.
“Just too h-happy,” she finally managed before burying her face again against his throat. Thin arms wrapped tighter around Mirel’s shoulders, hands with remarkable strength for such a small woman.
Mirel looked over her head to where Kylix stood. His bonded talked with his parents by the fire. Their ceremony had been perfect, everything he’d wanted after all the grandeur.
A nurse appeared at the doorway, smoothing her uniform, voice low. “Come with me, Madam. It’s time to get you ready for the trip back to the hospital.”
Celia smiled through tears and nodded with the gentle excitement of a child. “Wasn’t it wonderful? The ceremony… so beautiful. My son looked so handsome.”
The nurse’s smile deepened as she eased Celia from Mirel with patient grace. They walked out together, Celia still talking about the music and the lights, her voice a soft echo down the corridor.
Nearby, Moargan leaned against the desk while Aviel and Yure traded sharp jokes about who looked more exhausted. Helianth lounged on the arm of a chair, teasing Daven for trying to read a report instead of drinking.
“Or is that a report from your hospital visit?” he asked, sly.
Daven’s cheeks flushed. “How would you know?” he said.
Laughter rolled.
Helianth leaned back, grand. “Ah, I know everything.”
Aviel smirked from the desk. “Not everything. You didn’t see who Helianth was caught with last night.”
Yure raised a brow. “Archer?”
