Page 38 of Accidentally Fearless

“You’re mine,” I whispered against his throat, pressing my lips to the glowing line that traced along the side of his neck. The light flared brighter under my mouth, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

“Yes,” he answered, voice gone low and rough. He buried his face against the curve of my neck, breathing me in with slow, deliberate Velkorin scenting—intimate, possessive, and so much deeper than any human touch could convey. He was claiming me with every sense he possessed.

His hand slid down my side, claws fully retracted, leaving only the warm, slightly rough texture of his fingertips and palm. When he reached where I ached for him most, he touched me with devastating patience. I made a soft, broken sound I couldn’t hold back. He lifted his head just enough to watch my face, amber eyes dark with focus and something close to awe.

"Tell me," he murmured.

"There... just—yes. There."

He was impossibly attentive, reading every hitch of my breath, every shift of my hips, adjusting like he did on the battlefield—except this time the only thing he wanted to conquer was my pleasure. His thumb moved in slow, perfect circles while his fingers stroked deeper, coaxing me higher until the tension coiled so tightly I thought I might shatter. When I did—when the wave finally broke over me—he never looked away. His bioluminescence blazed brighter, bathing us both in rose-gold light as I trembled and gasped beneath him, lost in the feeling of being completely, reverently seen..

I reached for him the moment I could think again, pulling him closer, wrapping my legs around his waist. The heavy heat of him pressed against me, and when I slid my hand between us to guide him, the sound he made was something between a growl and a prayer—raw and desperate and utterly undone.

He pushed inside me slowly, so carefully, his jaw clenched tight with the effort of holding back. The stretch was intense; he was large, well-proportioned to his seven-foot frame, but my body welcomed him, opening gradually until he was fully seated. We both stilled, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.

“Okay?” he whispered, voice strained to breaking.

“Yes,” I breathed. I rolled my hips experimentally, and his entire body shuddered hard. The purring deepened into a continuous, resonant growl that vibrated through every place we were joined.

He began to move—long, deliberate strokes that dragged pleasure through me in slow, rolling waves. Each thrust built on the last, cresting higher, drawing me deeper into sensation. His forehead stayed against mine, his breathing ragged, scales almost fever-hot under my palms. I clung to his shoulders, feeling the powerful muscles shift and coil beneath the smooth surface as he moved inside me. Every time I tightened around him, he made a low, wrecked sound that erased every thought from my mind.

“Rory.” My name sounded broken in his mouth, raw and reverent. “I cannot— I am—”

“Let go,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his jaw. “I’ve got you. Let go.”

He drove deeper, his pace quickening as his control finally slipped. I met every thrust, chasing the rising tide with him until the pleasure—bright and radiant, expanded from where we were joined until it flooded every part of me. When it broke, it crashed over me like a storm, pulling a cry from my throat.

He followed right after, his massive body locking tight against mine as his bioluminescence flared so brilliantly the entire room brightened. A deep, rolling growl tore from his chest, and I felt the hot pulse of his release inside me, triggering a fresh wave of aftershocks that left me trembling and clinging to him.

He collapsed beside me in the same motion, pulling me tight against his chest, one heavy arm curved protectively over my waist. We lay tangled together, breathing together in sync, my back to his front, his slowing heartbeat a steady drum against my spine.

“You’re glowing,” I murmured, voice soft and wrecked.

“I am aware.” He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to my shoulder, his lips warm. “I may not stop for some time.”

A quiet, sated smile curved my mouth. “Good. I like it.”

His arm tightened around me. "What will you do? Now that the war is over."

I thought about it. Really thought, for the first time, about what my life would look like here. Not as a consultant on a thirty-day contract. As a citizen. As someone who lived here.

"Train your military," I said. "Your tactical doctrine needs a complete overhaul. And I want to learn more about the honor code—there are reforms that could prevent another Therak." I paused. "Also, I want to open a coffee shop."

He pulled back to look at me. "A... what?"

"A coffee shop. Earth has this thing where you go to a place and sit and drink hot beverages and just... exist. No combat. No tactics. Just existing." I rolled to face him, fitting myself into the curve of his body. "This base doesn't have that. It's all military, all the time. Your people need a space to just be people."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he laughed.

It was the first time I'd heard him really laugh—not the controlled exhale of amusement I'd caught occasionally, but an actual laugh, open and startled and genuine, rumbling up from his chest and filling the room. The sound was extraordinary—deep and warm, slightly rough, like someone had taught a thunderstorm to be happy.

"A coffee shop," he repeated. "On a military installation."

"On a military installation. With good beverages and comfortable seating and absolutely no weapons allowed."

He laughed again and kissed my forehead, pulling me closer.

"That is the most human idea I have ever heard," he said. "And I think it is exactly what we need."