Song vibe: Reflection – RM

  Warning: This chapter contains????????????

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  SAPHIRA

  Lord’s Quarters, Firestone

  Saphira did not know what she had expected when they were finally alone—but it was not this.

  He held her as if she were breath itself, as though loosening his grip might send her slipping away. The fierceness of his touch made her breath hitch.

  He’s held me before. But never like this.

  She drew back, not because she wanted distance, but because she needed a moment to gather herself, to make sense of what her body and mind were experiencing.

  This is new. Not just the sensation—but him. All of him.

  “I can’t believe you rode home in two weeks,” she said quietly, her hand sliding down the front of his shirt, reacquainting herself with the solid feel of him. “You must be exhausted.”

  “I am,” he replied, thumb resting at her waist. “But I’ve got all I want right here.”

  Her fingers slowed, stopping at his cuff. “You’ve got ichor on you.”

  “I'll wash it off,” he murmured, threading his fingers through hers with an ease that made her heart stumble. “I’m surprised you haven’t complained about the smell of horses yet.”

  “No complaints.” She smiled despite herself. “You smell like you.”

  “Unwashed, ichor, and mud?” His mouth curved faintly. “Every wife's dream.”

  “I’d have you back in any state,” she said softly. “Anything is better than waiting another day.”

  Something in his expression shifted—relief as the weight of what he had been carrying eased.

  “Come,” he said, offering his hand. “It’s my ritual after returning. The hot springs.”

  She let him lead her out into the night. The air cooled as they stepped into the private courtyard, steam rising in pale ribbons from the water beyond. The path was slick beneath their feet from the earlier rain, the scent of stone and damp earth in the air

  Her heart beat faster as they approached the pool.

  Is he expecting me to go in with him—?

  Before the thought could spiral, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers.

  “All I want,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes, “is for you not to leave my sight. Nothing else.” His thumb brushed her knuckles. “Sit where I can see you, alright? I'll get the filth off me, then we can finally rest."

  Relief loosened something tight in her chest.

  He guided her to a seat beneath an arch of blooming roses, two paces from the water. His hand lingered at her shoulder, warm and steady, and he gave it a brief squeeze. She looked up at him—really looked—and saw the exhaustion there, the restraint, the care threaded through it all.

  “And if Dusty brings you a rat,” he added, almost lightly, “she’s sleeping in the stables.”

  She laughed; the sound caught somewhere between disbelief and joy.

  As he turned toward the pool, she faced away, giving him privacy. Her pulse pounded loudly in her ears. She wrapped her arms around herself, not from cold, but from the weight of what she was beginning to understand.

  She heard it—the soft clink of his belt, the creak of leather, the rustle of cotton. Then the water broke as he lowered himself into the pool, the sound echoing faintly against the stone.

  She pictured him there without meaning to. The breadth of his shoulders beneath the surface. The water running through his hair. The tension easing in his muscles, if only a little.

  The thoughts tangled in her chest.

  Above: Saphira stays close.

  We’re married. I want to be close.

  But bathing—with him? Heat crept up her cheeks. We haven’t seen each other unclothed since our wedding night.

  Come on, Saphira. She touched her lips, remembering the kiss they shared in their dream. You’re not a blushing bride. This is your home. Your husband.

  She inhaled.

  What is it you actually want? Water shifted softly as he moved. She swallowed. I’m not afraid of the act—just of what it means, the shift in me, in our marriage.

  She smoothed her skirt.

  It would make it real. And this is what I always wanted—a home, a husband, a life that was worth living.

  The sound of her own heartbeat filled her ears.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Slowly, her fingers rose to her back, unlacing the apricot silk of her bodice. She undid each tie carefully, though her hands trembled. The outer layer slipped away. She remained seated in the thin silk underslip.

  She could feel him watching her intently.

  She breathed in and out. Don’t turn around. If I do, I’ll lose my nerve.

  She slipped the straps from her shoulders—right first, then left. The silk fell to her waist. The cool night air kissed her bare skin, moonlight pale against her shoulders. She exhaled and stood.

  The fabric slid down her legs and pooled at her feet.

  All sound from the pool ceased as Nocturne stilled. She knew he could not look away—and that made her smile.

  She folded one arm across her chest, the other around her middle, steadying herself. Her back was still turned to him, yet she could almost hear his heart—slow, heavy, answering the rhythm of her own.

  Then she turned.

  She kept her gaze low as she crossed the tiles, aware of the way his posture changed—the way his attention sharpened, not predatory, but stunned. She knelt at the edge of the pool.

  “May I join you?” she asked softly.

  For a moment, he held his breath—caught somewhere between awe and restraint. Then he reached for her hand.

  She placed her fingers into his, letting him guide her into the water. Heat wrapped around her skin, sinking deep into muscle and bone, and inside her, warmth rose. As she settled in beside him, he rested his arm along the stone ledge behind her.

  He did not reach for her further and kept his gaze steadily ahead.

  Is this too much? A flicker of doubt rose unbidden. Did I misread him—did he only want to bathe?

  She shifted, unsure whether to draw away or move closer.

  “Stay.” His hand closed gently around her wrist. “Tell me—do you want me closer?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “I’ll stop the moment you ask,” he said.

  “I know,” she whispered. “I trust you.”

  Above: “Tell me—do you want me closer?”

  His arms slid around her shoulders, drawing her to him. Then, his hands slid lower, resting on her hips as he picked her up and settled her onto his lap. He held her against him—unashamed, patiently—as the feel of his body became familiar.

  I can feel everything... and he can feel all of me.

  She felt a blush warming her cheeks. She draped her arms over his shoulders and pressed her face into the hard muscle of his shoulder.

  His fingers threaded into her hair as he tipped her head slightly back, exposing her throat. His lips followed upwards, soft and reverent, until he found her ear. He kissed the steel piercing of their marriage, his lips lingering there until her body relaxed fully.

  “Nox,” she whispered into his ear.

  His lips stilled against her skin.

  “Call me that again,” he murmured.

  She whispered it into his ear and felt the tension in him rise. He pulled her closer, his arms so strong that it startled her. His mouth moved from her neck to her cheek, then traced upward along her jaw before he kissed her properly at last.

  He did not hurry as he did in their dream, nor was there any restraint in his touch, the kind he had shown in her tower. She knew this was truly him—unhurried, tender, learning the feel of her body with every movement.

  As his lips roamed, she answered every touch without shame, each new sensation drawing her closer into surrender with him. When she was ready, he gave every part of himself to her—slowly, reverently—until they were together at last.

  She clung to him, feeling his care ease the tender ache. Every fear melted away, until her mind, her body, her spirit—everything—was filled with just him.

  Above: A tender moment.

  Tears gathered before she realised she was crying.

  His forehead rested against hers, his mouth brushing her cheek as he kissed them away.

  “Should I stop?” he murmured.

  “No.” She shook her head, pressing closer. “I just… feel so close to you.”

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured.

  She felt how carefully he yielded to her pace, her breath, her need. Her tears were not pain—it was the echo of six weeks apart, of wanting and waiting and imagining this moment a hundred different ways.

  This is real. This is us.

  “Nox,” she whispered, her mouth near his ear. “Never let me go.”

  He stilled.

  “I won’t.” With his voice raw and unguarded, he said, “I’m yours.”

  She stayed there with him—her body completely his.

  Above: “I’m yours.”

  When at last he lifted her from the water, it was without hurry. He wrapped a towel around his own waist, then dried her carefully. When he was done, he carried her into the warmth of the chamber and laid her gently upon the bed.

  “You like the room warm, don’t you?” He laughed, adding, “I guess I’ll have to get used to it.”

  “Compromises,” she teased, “I’ve had to adjust to sleeping on this slab of stone.”

  He added more logs to the fire, coaxing the flames higher. Even as he worked, his gaze kept drifting back to her—watching as she drew a comb through her damp hair, working to free the tangles.

  The room had grown quiet.

  She glanced up. Nocturne sat on the edge of the bed, eyes wide as he viewed her.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Don’t stop,” he said. “It’s… nice.”

  Above: Saphira brushes her hair.

  She laughed under her breath and drew the comb through her lavender hair again. “You won’t say that when it clogs the drains in the hot springs.”

  “Never cut it,” he said quietly, letting the damp strands slip through his fingers. “That night in the tower—when I unbraided it—I didn’t understand what I was being entrusted with. I do now.”

  “You were gentle then,” she said quietly. “But tonight—”

  He stilled. “Did I rush you?”

  “Not at all.” She shook her head, smiling faintly. “I think I rushed myself.” She let out a laugh as she set the comb aside. “I just… didn’t expect tonight to end this way.”

  “Nor did I,” he admitted. “All the times I imagined my return—not once did it look like this.”

  “I just wanted you,” she said as she lay down. “And it felt different this time. Not overwhelming. Not uncertain. Just… right.”

  He slipped beneath the covers and drew her close, one arm around her shoulders, the other resting over her heart, feeling each beat settle as she rested.

  “The first time,” he whispered, so quietly she almost missed it, “I held part of myself back. Tonight, I didn’t know how to do that with you.”

  She understood. Not the act itself—but the offering.

  We made love tonight, she thought. And our marriage feels whole again.

  She laced her fingers with his, exhaustion drooping her eyelids. “Thank you, Nox. For everything.”

  She settled into the hollow of his arm, her eyelids finally closing.

  “Sleep, little vila,” he murmured, kissing her hair. “There’ll be time to speak in the morning.” His voice softened further. “Thank you—for this. For the home to come back to.”

  She drifted under with his words wrapped around her, the fire crackling low, his presence solid at her back.

  For the first time in weeks, she slept without a single fear.

  I hope this was a tasteful amount of ???!