The silence between them was a fragile, breathing thing.
Caralee lay motionless beneath the cool gauze of moonlight, her hand splayed across her chest as if she could tether the moment in place. Beneath her palm, her heart pulsed—a miracle she had not expected to feel again. And beneath her hand was his. Renauld's. His broad, calloused palm, warm with life, pressed to her skin with a reverence that broke her.
They had not moved since the peak of their bloodbonding rite faded into the chamber's hollow quiet. Neither dared disturb the sacred connection still thrumming between them. Like jumper cables transferring life into something long silent, the ritual had temporarily entwined them more deeply than any ordinary bond. Two souls, two bodies—sharing a single pulse. One rhythm. One breath.
The arcane tendrils of ancient magic still hummed faintly between them, a flickering thread of starlight. Once the connection severed—once he withdrew from within her—that heightened unity would fade, leaving only the permanent bloodbond in its place. Still powerful, still eternal… but not this.
Caralee's eyes brimmed with bittersweet tears. They slid in silence across her cheeks, sorrow and joy entwining as surely as she was with him. She wept for the girl she had once been—the girl who'd dreamed of love with innocent naivety. That girl was gone now, buried with the last of her humanity. This new self—vampire, bride, queen—was reborn in fire and ritual, and it was this woman who now clung to the present with quiet desperation.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, the sound barely a tremor.
Renauld's eyes darkened with emotion, and he lifted his hand to brush her damp cheek. "Never apologize. Not to me." His voice was hoarse, reverent. "Not for this. Not for feeling."
Through their bond, her emotions became his. He felt her grief. Her awe. And then—just beneath the surface—a sudden ripple of heat. Arousal.
His brow lifted with quiet surprise, a flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
She gasped and turned her face away, cheeks flushing crimson with shame.
"I didn't mean—" she stammered. "I just— I thought something was wrong with me. I don't know what's appropriate anymore, and—"
"Hey," he murmured gently, "don't be like that. Don't hide from me. There is nothing wrong with desire."
She looked at him then, eyes wide and storm-tossed. Her lower lip trembled, and he leaned closer, capturing it between his own in a kiss as soft as breath. Then he deepened it, pouring into it every ounce of reverence, of yearning, of sacred promise.
"My duty," he whispered against her lips, "is to you, Caralee. Only to you. If you want something, and I have it in me to give… it's yours. Always."
Her body tightened around him reflexively, and through the link, they both felt the exquisite echo of the other's growing need. His arousal twitched inside her, a silent promise of what still remained between them. She gasped again—this time not from embarrassment, but want—and that single sound unraveled him.
It began again, this time with breathless urgency.
Renauld's lips found hers in a fevered kiss, his hands roaming her body with barely-restrained reverence. He trailed his mouth along her jaw, down the delicate column of her throat, worshipping her in the dim moonlight. When he reached the swell of her breasts, he paused, looking up at her with questioning eyes.
She nodded, eyes glassy with need.
His mouth found her again, his tongue flicking over her sensitive flesh until she moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair. Each sound she made was a flame to his dry kindling, and he burned for her, utterly consumed.
She met his gaze, her breath shallow. "You don't need to hold back."
He stilled. "Cara—"
"I mean it. You could never hurt me. Not you. I don't want to hold you back. I want to feel all of you."
For a heartbeat, he didn't move. Then something shifted behind his eyes. His restraint broke like a dam.
He growled softly, a primal, possessive sound, and claimed her mouth again—his kiss hungry, demanding. He gripped her hips and adjusted her angle beneath him, sliding deeper with a gasp that tore from both of them.
The connection amplified everything. Her pleasure, his desire, their growing hunger looped back and forth between them like a crescendo of thunder. Every thrust was met with a gasp, a sigh, a whispered plea. The pressure built between them like a storm waiting to break.
"Are you sure?" he asked hoarsely, even as his rhythm grew faster. "Is this what you want?"
She didn't answer with words.
She pulled him down, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with a wild abandon that left no room for doubt. She whispered into his ear, breath hitching, "Please, Renauld. I want you. All of you. Every way you'll have me."
He groaned, the sound low and raw in his chest. His mouth returned to her skin, grazing her collarbone, then her throat. She felt his need as surely as she felt her own, and her fangs extended instinctively.
"Do it," he whispered. "Feed. Take from me."
And she did.
With reverent hunger, she sank her fangs into the curve of his neck. The taste of him filled her—heady, electric, powerful—and he cried out, his body shuddering against hers as pleasure exploded through their shared link.
The sensation nearly broke them both.
He drove into her with sudden force, burying himself to the hilt, again and again, his movements increasingly desperate, increasingly erratic. She matched him, every thrust deepening their bond, every cry of pleasure shared like a prayer.
She licked the wound closed, her mouth returning to his. Their kisses were no longer delicate—they were fire and ash, ruin and resurrection. Tongues tangled. Hands wandered. She moaned against his lips, and he groaned back, their bodies moving in perfect, feral rhythm.
He pinned her wrists above her head, lacing their fingers together, his chest pressed to hers. When he moved now, it was with abandon, with purpose, driven by something ancient and unstoppable.
He thrust like he lost his mind, harder deeper, her audible pleasure only fueling his attack, almost feral. She began to take in gasps of air and squeeze her legs tightly around him. He knew she was about to reach her climax and it finally sent him over the edge just as she reached her release. Her climax crested like a wave and crashed over her, wracking her body with convulsions of pleasure.
He let out a cry of pleasure and with a few more final powerful thrusts he followed, gasping her name like a prayer, his release finding her with a final, shaking thrust. She felt him empty himself inside her, and she quaked beneath him. He thrust a few more times, helping her to ride out her wave, before collapsing next to her.
They collapsed together, bodies slick with sweat, hearts racing in tandem. They both lay there panting, Renauld even wheezing a bit. He placed his palm on his forehead, in between gasps of air he tried to speak, but no words would come and he simply threw his arms up and settled for wrapping them around her, and rolling to the side. They spooned in the afterglow of their bonding ritual. He simply held her in his arms, and kissed the back of her head.
Minutes passed in silence. Renauld lay on his back, breath shallow and ragged, his arm draped protectively around her. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and closed his eyes, letting the bond hum quietly between them.
Eventually, he stirred, brushing a knuckle along her cheek. He kissed her forehead tenderly before rising and dressing. She watched him, her eyes heavy with sleep and something more sorrowful. He offered her a weak smile. They both knew that this was the first and last time for their relationship to be physical to this degree.
His eyes held some measure of sadness. Which made her feel slightly pained. "I can feel you, ya know, my lady." She looked surprised for a moment, then remembered. She looked slightly ashamed, and blushed. She had a storm of emotions raging inside of her head. She grew teary eyed, and he lifted her chin.
"No, now. None of that. This is simply your lingering human emotions clouding your heart my lady. You love your king, and he you. The hormones ravaging your body will pass, and you will see things clearly. Seek solace in your love, he will guide you through it."
He leaned his face down and captured her lips with a final kiss goodbye, it quickly became an impassioned multitude of kisses. He leaned in to it as she arched her back, dangerously tempting him to climb back in to the bed with her and take her body once more, but his better judgement prevailed. He slowed the exchange and pulled back to rest his forehead on hers. She nodded, and he wiped a tear from her eyes.
At the door, he hesitated. He looked back once, as if trying to memorize her. "I'll send Lydia to you."
She nodded, her throat tight. "Thank you." She turned away, cheeks flushed with guilt.
"You will find your way. He'll guide you through it. And when you look back on tonight… don't regret it."
Then, with a quiet bow, Renauld turned and left the chamber.
The moment the door shut, the warmth of the bond's peak ebbed. She felt the shift in her bones—lessened, but never broken. A connection still pulsed between them, but the shared heartbeat had faded. Still, she had felt it. Truly felt it.
And in that fleeting miracle of time, she had never felt more alive.