Page 127 of Veil of Secrets

Chapter 30 – Nico

The couch beneath us is worn down, softened by years of use—blood, smoke, spilled drinks. It’s a relic from rougher days, but tonight, as I sit next to Elara, it feels right. It’s quiet back here, the distant hum of music filtering through the thick velvet curtains from the club beyond. The lights pulse gently, muted and steady, washing the space in gold and shadow.

Our hands brush, the slightest contact, but enough to ground us both. Neither of us says anything yet. Words feel unnecessary—there’s a rhythm to the silence now, something peaceful and strangely unfamiliar. The war is over. The wounds are healing. And this silence isn’t tense or dangerous. It’s just ours.

Slowly, I slip my hand into my pocket, pulling out a thin silver ribbon. It’s nothing special—just a scrap of satin found somewhere in this tangled mess of a life. But in this moment, it feels important. I turn it between my fingers for a second, then hold it out to her, palm open.

Elara glances down at it, her lips tilting into a faint smile. "What’s this?" she asks softly, amused, curious.

"One more game?" I suggest quietly, eyes holding hers steadily.

She chuckles, low and warm, eyes glittering. "What’s the mask this time?"

I rise slowly from the couch, lowering myself to one knee in front of her. It’s not grand, not showy, just honest. Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t move away. She waits, patient and watchful, giving me room.

"Lover," I say simply, offering her the ribbon again.

Her smile softens, becomes gentle. She reaches out, taking the ribbon from my hand. "Loved," she replies quietly, almost reverently. The single word feels like a vow, something deeper than we’ve ever voiced aloud.

Elara shifts forward, wrapping the ribbon loosely around my wrist. The satin feels cool against my skin, her fingertips brushing softly against my pulse. I feel it quicken beneath her touch, betraying how deeply she still affects me.

"You are," I whisper roughly, my voice tight with emotion. "All the way through."

Her eyes find mine, dark and filled with quiet intensity. "Then hold me like you mean it," she breathes softly, the faintest catch in her voice betraying vulnerability beneath the strength.

My hands slide gently along her waist, drawing her off the couch and down into my lap. She settles against me easily, her warmth pressing softly into my chest, her thighs bracketing mine. I cup her face tenderly, brushing my thumb along her cheekbone, savoring the softness of her skin.

Our lips meet slowly, gently at first—a delicate touch, careful and reverent. Her mouth opens beneath mine, warm and inviting, and our kiss deepens with quiet urgency. It feels like coming home—no rush, no panic, just relief.

Elara’s hands slide upward, fingers tangling in my hair, tugging lightly as our kiss intensifies. My arms tighten around her waist, pulling her flush against my body. I feel every soft curve, every familiar angle pressed firmly against me. She hums softly into my mouth, the quiet sound vibrating through my chest, making my heart skip.

I break the kiss only briefly, dragging my lips slowly down her jaw, tasting her skin—salt and warmth, familiar and perfect. She tilts her head back with a soft sigh, exposing her throat. I press open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck, my breath warming her skin, teeth gently grazing her pulse until I feel it jump beneath my touch.

"Nico," she whispers, breath shaky, fingers tightening in my hair.

"Right here?" I murmur back, lips grazing her collarbone, feeling the faint tremor ripple through her body.

Her fingers move down, tugging gently at my shirt, pulling it loose, impatiently pushing the fabric aside. Her palms settle against my chest, fingertips tracing scars and old wounds, every touch burning into my memory, marking me again as hers.

I help her slide the fabric completely away, letting it drop carelessly to the floor. My breath catches as her hands glide lower, exploring with slow deliberation, tracing each muscle and ridge along my torso. Her eyes stay locked with mine, watching every reaction, every subtle shift in my expression.

I trail my own hands down her body, sliding beneath the edge of her shirt, fingertips teasing upward across the soft skin of her stomach. She lifts her arms, allowing me to slip the garment away, revealing her skin inch by inch. My gaze drinks her in greedily—the way her body curves, the way the dim gold light highlights every subtle line.

She leans back slightly, trusting my hold completely, arching gracefully into my touch. My palms move up, cupping her breasts gently, feeling their weight and warmth. She gasps softly, body arching further, hips pressing instinctively closer to mine.

"I want you," she murmurs, voice husky and honest, eyes heavy with desire. "All of you. Right now."

Her directness sends a sharp wave of heat straight through me, tightening every muscle. I capture her mouth again, deeper and harder, swallowing the soft moan she offers. Our hands move faster, stripping away every barrier between us until there's nothing left but skin and heat, bodies tangled, breathing matched and urgent.

My mouth travels downward, lips grazing over her shoulder, down to her chest. I pause, gently circling my tongue around one sensitive peak, sucking softly until her breathing grows ragged and uneven. Her fingers tighten in my hair again, holding me close.

I place her gently onto the worn couch, the old springs creaking softly beneath our shifting weight. Her thighs part willingly, welcoming me closer. I settle carefully between them, savoring the heat of her skin pressing tightly against mine.

Her gaze finds mine again, steady, honest. "Now," she whispers, urgent but sure. "Don’t wait."

I position myself slowly, carefully at her entrance, feeling her warmth and readiness. Our eyes hold as I push forward, filling her completely, deeply, until we’re both breathing harshly, adjusting to the perfect fit of our joined bodies.

I begin to move slowly, savoring every moment of friction, every subtle shift. She wraps her legs around me tightly, pulling me even deeper. Our rhythm grows steadily, movements matching easily, built from trust and familiarity. Every stroke, every breath, every whispered encouragement binds us tighter, deeper.

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