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The day passed not with duties or danger—but with silences filled with soft laughter, long stares, and gentle touches that said I'm here without needing words.
Seraphina stood at the balcony, wrapped in a black silk robe trimmed in silver threads, her hair loose, drifting with the wind. Below, the Eclipsed Plane shimmered with otherworldly beauty—sky painted in violet, the rivers glowing faint blue beneath crystal trees. It shouldn't have been beautiful. But it was.
Because she had someone to share it with now.
"Thinking again?" Ravon's voice murmured close behind her, arms sliding around her waist. His breath brushed the back of her neck.
She leaned back into him. "Always."
He pressed a kiss behind her ear. "Don't. Just feel."
His hand found hers, fingers lacing through hers, holding her against him.
"I don't want this to end," she whispered.
"It doesn't have to," he said. "Not tonight. Not tomorrow."
He turned her around slowly, his crimson eyes glowing faintly, but not from power. From something softer.
"I want you again," he said plainly.
Her breath hitched.
He kissed her slowly, deeply, his hands tracing over her waist, pulling her close until their bodies touched like puzzle pieces slipping into place. Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently. He groaned against her lips.
They didn't rush.
He lifted her into his arms, carrying her back to the bed with a reverence that made her chest ache. No more desperation. No more edge of war. Just this quiet sanctuary between two cursed hearts learning to beat in rhythm.
As he laid her down, her robe slipped off her shoulders, and his gaze followed every inch with slow hunger—but not the kind that devoured. The kind that worshipped.
"You're so much more than I deserve," he whispered.
Seraphina reached up, cupping his cheek. "Maybe. But I'm yours."
The way he looked at her then—like she was the first light he'd seen in centuries—was enough to undo her.
He kissed her again. And again. And again.
Their bodies moved slowly, like a dance known only to them, hearts syncing with every touch, every sigh. Their breath became poetry. Their skin—scriptures. And when they reached the edge together, it was not fire or fury that consumed them.
It was peace.
After, Ravon lay beside her, his chest rising and falling, their hands still clasped.
"You're glowing," he said quietly.
Seraphina blinked. "What?"
He turned his head to her, a smile playing on his lips. "Literally. Your skin… it's faint. But it's there."
She looked down. And there it was—soft golden shimmer along her collarbone, pulsing like the heartbeat of something new.
Something awakened.
"…What does it mean?" she asked.
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he whispered, "It means we're bound deeper than I thought. And something ancient is waking in you, Seraphina."
She turned to him slowly.
"I'm not afraid," she said.
"Neither am I," Ravon replied, his voice low. "But we need time. More nights like this. More us. Before the world tries to take it away."
She nodded and curled into him, whispering against his skin, "Then stay. Every night. Until forever forgets to count time."
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