Page 68 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

Words become unnecessary as I fumble with the fastenings of his battered leathers, needing to feel the steady thump of his heart. He helps me, though his fingers tremble with fatigue. We’re both bruised, but we cradle each other with soft care. Each brush of skin sends a jolt of awareness through me, the brand glowing. I recall the first times we joined under duress—now, it’s a voluntary act of healing, emotional and physical.

My own clothes slip away, replaced by the warmth of his body, the hush of the forest night, and the flickering synergy that pulses in our bond. I feel every scratch and bruise on his skin, each ridged scar where runes used to shine. The reality of his vulnerability makes me ache with both sorrow and fierce protectiveness. He meets my gaze, a glimmer of wonder in his eyes, as if he can’t believe we reached this quiet space after so much heartbreak.

Gently, almost reverently, we align, hearts pounding. Our limbs entangle in a slow, tender dance. This time, there’s no urgency of healing a mortal wound or fending off illusions. It’s a mutual surrender, a soft exploration that reaffirms the love we declared in the midst of chaos. My tears fall again, but they’re tears of relief and gratitude. Each press of skin to skin, each murmured endearment, lifts another layer of sorrow from my soul.

His touch is featherlight, trailing over my curves in a way that ignites every nerve ending. I arch against him, brand thrumming with a gentle pulse, synergy shimmering between us. The air seems to crackle, but it’s not the wild chaos of battle—rather a glowing aura of closeness, forging a deeper bond that illusions can’t fracture. Our breaths mingle in soft gasps, each stolen moment of pleasure reaffirming that we’re equals, choosing this path freely.

We shift, finding a comfortable position on the bed of pine needles. My cloak cushions me, and his wings spread around us like a protective shield, the leathery spans trembling with restraint. His tail curls over my calf, the motion more tender than the feral thrash it once was, its tip brushing my skin in slow, possessive strokes. I cradle his face, pressing kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, tasting salt and the faint tang of old tears. He groans softly, arms tightening around my waist, claws retracted but the heat of his grip undeniable.

Then his hand slides down, calloused fingers tracing the curve of my hip before slipping between my thighs. I gasp as he finds me—wet, aching—my body already yielding to his touch. His cock presses against me, thick and heavy with need, and for a moment we simply savor the friction, the delicious drag of skin on skin. I rock into him, my pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to feel him fully.

“Now, Kaelith. Take me. Embrace me, my love,” I breathe, nails scraping his shoulders. He feels so warm and so good against me.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Sariah…”

With a growl that vibrates through my bones, he guides himself into me, filling me inch by exquisite inch. “Gods!” I scream as he hits me deep and hard, my pussy creams even more, gushing with juices to accommodate him.

“You’re so wet and fits me so well,” he groans, holding onto my hips and thrusts inside again in one fluid motion.

The stretch is perfect, blissful, and I arch against him, my brand pulsing in time with each slow thrust. Our synergy flares, not as a wildfire but as molten gold—liquid and radiant, pouring into every gasp escaping our lips. His rhythm is unhurried, each movement a vow: We have time. This is ours.

I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him deeper, and he shudders, his wings flexing around us. His cock strokes that sweet, hidden place inside me, and pleasure coils tight in my belly, brighter with every roll of his hips. His tail lashes once, then curls tighter around my leg, as if he can’t bear even that small separation.

“Look into my eyes, I want to see you,” he rasps, and when I do, his eyes are burning, the pupils blown wide with desire. The raw devotion there undoes me.

“Kaelith…” I call out his name over and over, wanting him to hear the desperation and need in my voice. I want him. Everything about him.

I clench around him, my pussy fluttering as the pressure builds, and his groan is ragged against my lips. His thrusts grow uneven, his control fraying, but still he holds my gaze—anchoring me even as pleasure threatens to sweep us under.

“I’m coming, my Kaelith,” I gasp, my mouth unable to close and keening noises spills from me.

“Come for me, my love,” he murmurs as his hips pistons faster. “Let’s come as one.”

My climax crests like a wave, and I cry out, my brand blazing as the synergy arcs between us in a shower of silver sparks. He follows with a broken shout, his cock pulsing inside me as he comes deep, his body locking mine in place like sacred ground.

For a heartbeat, there’s only the echo of our shared release, the aftershocks trembling through us both. Then we sag against each other, hearts still pounding, skin slick with sweat and the evidence of our union. The forest night wraps around us, the faint moonlight filtering through pine branches as if blessing this quiet aftermath. My entire body hums with lingering contentment, muscles weak from battle and this final, tender surrender.

He brushes damp hair from my forehead, his eyes shining with love deeper than illusions.

“Sariah,” he whispers, voice trembling with awe, “I never imagined… it could feel like this—pure, free from illusions or desperation.”

I smile through tears, kissing his forehead. “We’ve earned it,” I manage, voice tight with emotion. “No illusions, no curses, just us.”

A soft chuckle escapes him, almost disbelieving. He kisses my palm, then helps me settle against his chest. We lie in the pine woods, letting our breathing slow. My cheek rests where I can feel his heart, each beat a reassurance that we stand on the brink of a new future.

Time drifts. The brand’s glow dims to a faint pulse, synergy settling into a gentle background hum. I recall everything that led here: fleeing illusions in the old temple, forging synergy to survive Drayveth’s demands, uniting to banish Nerezza for good. Kaelith gave up his gargoyle might, and I nearly lost all purna innocence to the darkness. Yet we overcame. The brand radiates a quiet pride in my chest, as though saying:You are free, truly free.

Eventually, Kaelith shifts beneath me, wincing at a bruise. I gently stroke his chest, concerned. “Are you hurting? I might have a scrap of magic left to ease your pain.” My voice catches.Though I’m drained, I’d do anything to comfort him.

He brushes his lips to my temple. “I’m sore, but I’ll live. Rest your magic, love. We can nurse each other’s wounds in the days to come.” His tone is serene, touched by a peaceful acceptance I’ve seldom heard from him.

I nod, burying my face in the curve of his neck. The dryness of my throat reminds me we have mundane needs—water, supplies, a safe roof. But for tonight, the pine-needle floor and his arms suffice. We have survived illusions, condemnation, and heartbreak.Together, we can face the more ordinary struggles of hunger and shelter.

He drapes his wings around us, tail twining with my calf in a gesture of tenderness. The half-lost gargoyle essence remains, yet he’s more human now—softer skin, less stony ridges. I kiss the slight hollow of his throat, marveling at the change. He closes his eyes, a content sigh slipping out.We can rebuild from here.

Distantly, an owl hoots, or perhaps some nocturnal creature stirs. The forest hush enfolds us. I shift my head to gaze at Kaelith’s profile in the thin moonlight—his jawline no longer as jagged, runes faint. He seems almost calm, as if letting go of centuries of guilt. My chest warms with fierce admiration.He was unstoppable as a gargoyle warrior, but now he’s unstoppable as a man who chooses love over illusions.

“Sariah,” he murmurs, blinking drowsily. “I sense a new path ahead—one that’s ours to shape. We could search out Snowfall Glen, or travel the world, or build a quiet life somewhere far from illusions.”

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