I woke to warmth.
Not just the soft heat of the chamber, or the lingering hum of magic in my skin—but his warmth. Solid. Protective. Wrapped around me like armor.
Vaerion's arms encircled me, one heavy across my waist, the other cradling the back of my head. His chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths. His wings, folded loosely, curved over us like a shelter. A cocoon.
For a while, I lay still, drinking in the unfamiliar peace.
I had expected… pain. Guilt. Fear.
But there was only a quiet fullness inside me. Like the fire within had settled, soothed by his.
I turned carefully, not wanting to wake him.
But he was already watching me.
His gaze was soft and dangerous at once. Golden eyes half-lidded, dark hair tousled against the pillow.
"You're awake," he said, voice rough from sleep.
I nodded, unsure what to say.
"Does it hurt?" he asked gently, brushing his thumb over my cheek. "The bond?"
"No," I whispered. "It feels… like breathing."
A flicker of something crossed his face. Relief, maybe. Or something deeper. He pressed his forehead to mine.
"You're not dreaming," he said. "You're mine now. Truly. No one can undo what we've done."
I flushed. Even after all we'd shared, his words lit me with shy heat.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
"Still shy?" he murmured, lips curling.
I tried to look away, but his hand caught my chin.
"No hiding from me, little flame. Not anymore."
"I'm not used to being… seen."
"You'll get used to it." His voice dropped, almost a growl. "Because I won't stop looking."
---
He insisted I eat—personally.
I tried to protest when he brought food himself, bare-chested and barefoot, carrying a tray like a servant.
"There are kitchens," I mumbled. "You're the king."
His brow lifted. "And you're mine. I feed what belongs to me."
My breath caught.
He sat beside me on the bed, tore off a piece of honey bread, and offered it to my lips. When I hesitated, he narrowed his eyes.
"Open."
I obeyed.
The bread was warm and sweet, and the moment I swallowed, he was already preparing the next bite.
His touch was reverent. His attention, unrelenting.
"You're doting," I whispered, trying not to smile.
He didn't smile back.
"I almost lost you," he said quietly. "You don't know how close you came to burning up in that ritual. You gave me everything. Now I give you what I can."
My throat tightened.
I didn't know how to answer that.
So I let him feed me. Bite after bite. Sip after sip. Until I was full—not just of food, but of him.
---
Later, he washed my hair.
I hadn't meant for him to. I was reaching for the basin, struggling to lift the pitcher when he growled low in his throat.
"You're still sore," he said. "Let me."
He knelt behind me in the bathing chamber, hands in my hair, gently pouring water down my scalp. His claws—dulled at the moment—massaged the soap in slow, careful circles.
I leaned into the touch before I could stop myself.
A soft sound escaped my throat.
He stilled.
"You like that."
"I—" I swallowed. "Yes."
His lips brushed the nape of my neck, where the mark still pulsed faintly.
"You never have to ask with me," he said. "Never have to beg for softness. You've earned it."
Tears stung the corners of my eyes.
I hadn't cried since the ritual.
I didn't know if it was relief or something else. Only that no one had ever touched me like this before—not just with hunger, but with care.
"You'll have to stop being so gentle eventually," I said, trying to joke.
Vaerion's growl turned deeper.
"Don't tempt me, little flame. I'm trying to give you peace. But if you ask for more…"
His teeth scraped my shoulder.
I gasped. Heat flared between my thighs.
"Not now," he murmured. "Soon."
---
That night, he wouldn't let me sleep alone.
Not that I wanted to.
I lay curled in his arms again, bare beneath silk sheets, my cheek against his chest. He traced lazy circles over my back with his fingertips.
"Does it always feel like this?" I asked.
"What?"
"The bond."
He was quiet for a long time.
"No," he said finally. "Only when it's real."
I lifted my head to look at him. "Have you… bonded before?"
"No."
That startled me. "But you've ruled for centuries."
He nodded. "And waited for you through every one of them."
I didn't know what to say. My heart clenched.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you regret it?"
"No," I said, with more certainty than I expected. "I feel… alive. Whole."
He smiled then. The kind of smile that burned slowly. Intimate.
"I'll never let you feel empty again."
---
In the days that followed, we stayed in the Highwing Chamber, away from court, away from prying eyes.
He rarely left me. And if he did, he left guards outside the door, warded the room with flame sigils, and returned twice as angry if he'd been gone too long.
When I asked why, he didn't lie.
"There are those who would take you from me," he said. "And I will kill them."
The possessiveness in his voice didn't frighten me. It comforted me.
Because I could feel it, too—this terrifying need to be near him, to have his skin against mine, his scent in my lungs, his fire curled inside me.
Was it the bond?
Or just us?
I didn't know. I only knew that every time he touched me, the world narrowed to flame and breath and heart.
---
On the seventh night, I woke from a nightmare.
I was cold. Alone. My mark was dim, my fire smothered.
I gasped awake, panting—only to find him already there, cupping my face.
"Shh," he murmured. "It's not real. I've got you."
"I dreamed you were gone," I choked. "That I was back in the pits. Collared. Forgotten."
He growled—low, violent.
"No one will ever touch you again," he said. "No one will chain you. You belong to me now."
He wrapped himself around me, wings and arms and all.
"I'll burn the world before I let you go."