Something fundamental inside me shatters at the confession, because I understand its roots. Xeni never hid his difficult childhood from me, but now?

  Knowing who his father was, and the impossible standards he could never meet?

  It’s no wonder he needs so much reassurance.

  “Do you trust me?” I ask, thumb brushing the edge of a scar that shows under the patch.

  He nods, the motion small but certain.

  “Then trust that you’ll always be perfect to me, Xen. Let me see you.”

  His eye climbs to mine again, searching for any hidden lie, any flicker of disgust, but he won’t find it.

  Finally, ever so slowly, he releases his grip on my wrists.

  I wait a few heartbeats longer to give him space for objection, but when none comes, I slide the leather strap over his head and toss it aside.

  A quiet whimper escapes him as his good eye closes tight, like he’s bracing for a reaction he can’t bear to witness.

  Pale lashes are perfectly intact, fanning out along the hollow pit of his ruined eye. Scars radiate from the injury in jagged, raised lines that cut across his skin like rose-pink frozen lightning.

  The contrast is brutal against the flawless beauty of his face.

  I force down the lump rising in my throat, and my thumbs scrub the crusted blood on his face until he’s clean.

  “See?” I whisper as I guide his head closer and press the softest kiss to those scars. “Perfect.”

  He shudders beneath the touch, a broken exhale escaping him as his eye flutters open. His breath hitches as he searches my face for revulsion that isn’t there.

  A sob catches in his throat, small and stifled at first, but it breaks free on the next breath. His arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer as he buries his face against my shoulder, and his tears are hot against my skin. Years of hidden pain spill out in silent, heaving cries that shake us both.

  I hold him tighter, one hand cradling the back of his head. My fingers thread through his damp hair, and he clings to me like I’m the only solid thing left in his world.

  Eventually, his cries settle, and he fists my hair and guides my lips to his in a slow kiss. He pulls back and stares into my eyes for a moment before he dips his chin in a nod, granting permission to wash the night away.

  The water runs pink as I wash Xeni’s skin and hair, taking my time to let my hands explore the lean planes of his body. I turn him to face the wall and massage his back, running my thumbs along the muscles that are tight from spending the past five days in uncomfortable, unnatural positions.

  He turns to face me with his nipples pebbled and his cock half hard, but both of us know this isn’t leading anywhere tonight. He needs rest, and now that he’s clean, he’s barely conscious.

  We dry off, and I fight off the guilt for having someone else manage my laundry as I wrap myself in a towel and leave our dirty clothes piled outside the door.

  Xeni is already between the sheets when I hang the towel in the bathroom and come to bed. I climb in behind him, banding my arms around his waist and hugging him there.

  “I always felt safer like this,” he whispers with a happy sigh into the darkness, and even with the danger surrounding us and the alarms blaring outside, I feel safe, too.

  Xeni

  Morning has risen when I jolt awake, momentarily confused by the lavender scented pillow beneath my head. The screeching outside the windows is jarring, but the warmth of the body pressed against mine is endlessly familiar. It grounds me as everything from last night rushes back in a flood of memories. I take a deep breath to steady myself as the realization settles heavy in my chest.

  Bash came for me.

  He risked his freedom and his life for me.

  Ever since I was a child, I’ve been told I’m worthless. The idea was drilled into me by those who were supposed to love me, but only used me when it suited them. I’ve spent most of my existence as a pawn—a tool to be wielded when convenient and stowed away when no longer needed.

  Not something to be treasured, and certainly never something worth a sacrifice of this magnitude.

  Bash’s face is tucked into my neck, and he grunts softly as he arches his back in a stretch. He’s exhausted as he looks up at me, but his eyes are serene.

  “How do you feel this morning?” he asks through a stifled yawn.

  Everything inside me wants to dismiss the question.

  I’ve been conditioned to pretend I’m fine, shrug him off, and suffer behind a smile. For a lifetime, I’ve hidden the cracks and smoothed the edges. Kept the mask in place so no one sees the fear that lives behind it.

  But last night was a tipping point.

  Change is terrifying, like stepping off a cliff and freefalling into the unknown, but with his arms around me, it also feels like flying.

  I take a steadying breath and jump.

  “The past week is more like a nightmare than reality,” I say. “There was a lot of pain. A lot of interrogating and questions, and a constant mental battle to keep him out of my head. It’s kind of a blur, honestly. I think I blocked most of it out. Then you broke into that room, and I thought I was dreaming. Thought my mind had finally snapped and conjured a hallucination of you. Once I realized you were real, I panicked.”

  “I wasn’t going to leave you, Xen. Not again.”

  “Like I left you?” I ask, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “Don’t do that,” Bash scolds gently as he sits up and forces me to look at him. He’s quiet for a moment, searching my face. “Last night, seeing you like that? Chained up with those fucking bruises covering your face? The collar? That fucking destroyed me.”

  I heave a sigh as I acknowledge the dull, throbbing pain throughout my body. “What he did to me was awful, but it doesn’t compare to what he would have done to you. He would’ve hunted you down and tortured you in ways that made what happened at Ljómur look like a damn vacation. And he wouldn’t have stopped, either. Not until he was bored with it, and then he would’ve killed you without a second thought. That’s why I hid everything… why I pushed you away. It wasn’t just to protect you from that place. It was to keep you alive.”

  “He did this to you?” His fingers are careful as they trace the bruises and cuts on my face.

  I nod. “He usually makes others do his bidding for him, but for me… it seems he made quite the exception and got his hands dirty.” A scornful laugh blows from my nose, and a bolt of pain shoots through my sore chest along with it. “Hands, boots, blades…”

  “Xen…”

  I hug him tighter, despite the ache in my muscles, and drag my palms over the bare skin of his back. “Don’t pity me, Bash. I made my decision, and it was worth it to keep you safe. He despises anything tied to the prophecy or mates. He hates humans. In his eyes, you are my ultimate weakness and his greatest embarrassment, and he would’ve exploited it until there was nothing left.”

  “We got away, though.”

  “We did,” I agree, focusing for a moment on the sirens outside. “But he’s seen you now. All of you.”

  “You injured him pretty badly—”

  Another laugh rips painfully from my chest, and I shake my head. “He’s old, Bash. Ancient. He’ll be healed within a day or two and only more pissed off for the inconvenience of a knife in his neck.”

  Bash snuggles back into me. “I’d rather be hunted and on the run with you than anywhere else alone.”

  Warmth spreads across my chest, and a tiny smile tugs at my mouth. “Look at you and your smooth lines,” I tease.

  He huffs a quiet laugh as he presses a kiss to my throat. It’s like he’s washing away the memories of that collar, replacing the cold bite of metal with the warmth of his lips.

  “I know it’s not the time,” he murmurs, barely audible over the alarms, but I don’t need to hear his next words as his hips rock forward. His cock is already half hard as it drags against my thigh.

  A shiver travels up my spine as I slide my hand lower on his back to cup his ass and feel the flex of his muscles.

  “It is literally always the time,” I argue.

  “Insatiable,” he breathes, kissing up my chin.

  A rush of slick leaks from my opening as my cock slides out, and I savor the sensation after so many days of pain. Our legs tangle under the sheets, and our ankles lock as we search for leverage.

  Bash whispers my name, his arms banding my torso. “Missed this,” he mutters as his fingertips dance across my shoulders and neck. He’s far gentler with me than usual, and I appreciate the soft touch.

  Bash knows I’m not picky.

  Rough handling, sweet intimacy, a five-minute quickie, or an hours-long session.

  I love it all with him.

  Right now, though, my body is sore and my muscles ache from the conditions of my imprisonment. Gentle kisses pepper my neck and throat, and he grins when I try to chase his lips.

  Fingers drag down my spine, moving us together as his cock slides against mine. He’s deliberate with each rock of his hips, then his hand moves between us. It teases my abdomen and traces the edge of our cocks as they grind.

  “You’re so wet,” he murmurs as his lips finally find mine, scooping slick from where it coats my skin.

  He cants his hips and wraps his fingers around us both to spread the lube. The way we move is deliberate… worshipful, almost, despite how badly I want to rush.

  How desperate I am to crest that peak and lose myself in the pleasure.

  “I bet you’re wet back here, too,” he murmurs as his hand sneaks around my body, and he groans as he taps a fingertip against my hole.

  “Fuck, baby,” he groans.

  “That’s the plan,” I agree breathlessly.

  He laughs as he sinks a fingertip inside me, but I have other ideas.

  “Mmm, hands to yourself,” I warn as I grab his wrist and pull his hand away.

  The moment he’s inside me, my self-control will disappear. I have enough experience with Bash’s magic fingers to recognize that as a hard truth. He separates from our kiss with a question in his eyes, and I’m more than prepared to give him an answer.

  I replace his hand with mine and work two fingers into my hole. My eye closes and I moan quietly as I sink them deeper, slick coating my hand as I thrust.

  “Tease,” he mutters.

  I grin as I continue to finger myself, digging my head into the pillow as I add a third. Heat spreads in my lower back, and I reluctantly slide my fingers free.

  “My turn now?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure I told you to keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Pretty sure you don’t make the rules,” he retorts with a lift of his brow.

  “Pretty sure I do,” I murmur as I claim his lips again. My hand works around his back and lower.

  He groans when he understands my intention, tilting his hips and throwing his leg over my thigh as he rocks against me.

  “Want me inside you?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he pleads, never ceasing the slow roll of his hips. He moves his body like we’re already connected, just as eager as me.

  “Want me to fuck you?” My fingertip teases his entrance, and I shudder at the squeeze as I slip between the fluttering muscles. “Gods, you’re tight.”

  He releases a long, drawn-out moan of my name, and it turns pleading as he pushes back for more.

  I’ve missed this so much.

  The intimacy of working him open. Preparing his body to take me, and listening to him beg. The way he becomes submissive and needy when he wants me to fuck him, losing his usually concrete patience.

  Our lips brush as we breathe the same air, and as soon as I’m knuckle deep, he begs for another. A second finger joins the first, and Bash is pliant as his body yields to me.

  He’s so enrapt in the sensations that his hips stop moving. He lies there, eyes squeezed closed and jaw slack as I work my fingers in and out of him. They move inside him, relishing the squeeze of his muscles and the flex of his cock against my thigh in response.

  I lift onto my knees as he rolls to his back, and I take my time cataloguing every plane of his body. The tendons in his neck draw tight with each thrust of my fingers. His cock lies against his flexing abs, weeping pre-cum that glistens off his piercing.

  “Are you ready for another?” I taunt.

  He shakes his head as he moves, fucking himself on my fingers. His eyes flutter open, letting me see how much he wants it.

  “I don’t need it. Just fuck me, please? I’m ready.”

  A pang of jealousy hits my chest at his insistence, but I don’t look away fast enough.

  “Hey,” he says, his voice infinitely gentler, and his brows bunch as he pushes up on his elbows. He moves before I can stop him and swoops me into his arms before he drops me on my back, hovering above me.

  “What just happened? Where’d you go?”

  “I’m here with you,” I say with a soft smile, but it's insincere.

  “Xen…”

  “Please… ignore me, alright?”

  “You know that’s not going to happen, princess.”

  He waits as if we have all the time in the world, and his stubbornness kicks in and tells me he’ll sit here all day and wait.

  “I… fuck, I don’t want to ruin this,” I say with a sigh. More silence lingers, and eventually it’s too much. “It's just… you said you were ready.”

  “I am,” he says, obviously confused.

  I shake my head as I push out a frustrated breath. “Right. I shouldn’t be mad about this. It isn’t fair to you, and…”

  Bash leans in and presses a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to help me here. I don’t know why you’re upset.”

  My fingers trace over his cheekbones as I choose my words carefully. “Because you don’t need much prep… which means you’ve been… prepped enough recently to…”

  Understanding dawns on his face, but the irritation I expect from my insinuation doesn’t come.

  “You want to know why?” he asks.

  I bite my lip and glance away. “Not particularly… hey!” I gasp as he leans in to nip my chin.

  “Now that you’re paying attention, I need you to listen. The only reason I said I didn’t need it is because I was pulling a page from your book.”

  I peek over. “My book?”

  “Yeah,” he chuckles. “I was too eager for you to get inside me to wait any longer.”

  I try to form a laugh that turns into a scoff instead.

  He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips, like he’s afraid he’ll scare me off if he’s too bold. “Xeni, there hasn’t been anyone since you.”

  My heart explodes in my chest and leaves me frozen. It’s too much to expect, too much to even wish for, but I’ve always been selfish. My lungs burn as I hold my breath, afraid to let the moment shatter.

  Bash flashes me a shy, crooked smile and runs a hand over his hair in that familiar nervous habit. “I won’t lie to you. I tried… for a long time. But they were too familiar or not familiar enough, and I could never bring myself to do it. It always felt—”

  “Wrong,” I finish for him.

  The word carries the memory of every night I spent alone, empty from each hollow touch that wasn’t his. Each failed attempt to pretend I could ever move on.

  A question lingers in his eyes, and it’s vulnerable in a way that makes my chest tighten.

  He won’t ask.

  Won’t push for the confirmation he’s desperate for, so I offer it to him instead.

  “Me neither, Bash. No one could replace you.”

  His crooked smile deepens into something real, relief and need mingling as he pulls me closer. His lips find mine again, and his knees fall to bracket my thighs.

  More smooth slides of our hips build the heat between us in no time. Slick heat and perfect friction have us both desperate for more, with my hands clinging to his back while his grip the sheets.

  Tension builds in my center and rages outwards, and I tear my lips from his in a plead. “You’re going to make me come too fast.”

  He swivels his hips, then follows it with a chuckle that sounds awfully proud. “You always were so sensitive.”

  My muscles scream in protest as I flip us until I’m on top, but watching his cockiness shift to surprise makes it worth the pain. I hook his knees and press forward, spreading him wide.

  His eyes don’t leave mine as we line up, and he nods as I notch the tip of my cock against his hole. The stretch is eased by my slick, and his spine arches as I sink into him.

  I pause as his chest lifts. “Good?”

  His smile takes my breath away as he reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “I’m great, princess.”

  A shuddering, relieved inhale fills my lungs at the comfort of being with him in this way. I spent years thinking I’d never get to come home, but he’s here now.

  He’s home, and he’s mine.

  We both groan as I pull back and then sink further, giving him more until our skin sits flush. The next thrust is harder, and his eyes roll into his head as sparks crackle across my limbs. Pleasure builds in slow, deliberate waves, and we find a rhythm that feels like rediscovery. I fight my urge to rush as I fall into the dream of having him here with me, safe and real beneath my touch.

  Bash’s fingernails trace down my spine, hard enough to leave a trail of fire but gentle enough not to hurt. He’s mindful of the lingering soreness in my body—attentive in the way he’s always had. His eyes don’t move from mine, watching intently for any signs of pain even as he searches for those subtle signals that tell him I’m close.

  My hair falls around us like a veil from the rest of the world, shielding this moment for us. He’s beautiful underneath me. A sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and his brows are drawn in concentration while his lips remain parted in quiet ecstasy.

  Soft moans escape his throat with every drive of my hips, and despite how much I want to savor this, to stretch it into eternity, it takes no time at all before I’m fighting to hold back.

  “Bash,” I whine, and my fingers knot in the sheets as my rhythm falters.