Chapter 62: I Was There For All Of It (Her POV)
I felt the difference the moment I stepped back into Arbor. Tairochi's realm had let me go gently. The quiet followed me home. No roaring emotions that weren't mine. Just… me. The portal closed behind me with a soft hum. Arbor's hallways glowed warm. I inhaled. It smelled like coffee, sugar, and whatever candle Malvor had decided was his "brooding genius" scent this week. He appeared at the end of the hall like he'd been waiting there the whole time. He probably had.
"Asha." My name left him like an exhale, half prayer, half relief. My feet were steady on the floor, the earth rune still a quiet, ember-warm weight in my shoulders. For the first time since the bond shattered my sanity open, I didn't feel like I was about to split apart.
"I'm okay," I said, before he could ask. His eyes scanned my face anyway, checking the tiny tells he'd recently trained himself to read. The tension in my jaw. The tremor in my fingers. The way my eyes went distant when the noise got too loud. Tonight, he found none of it.
His shoulders dropped a fraction. "You're quiet," he murmured.
"I'm me," I corrected softly.
Something in his expression cracked, just a little. He stepped closer, hands hovering at my arms like he wanted to touch but didn't want to crowd. "Did he help?"
"Yeah." I let out a breath, slow and even. "It's… grounded. My head. My magic. All of it. He gave me a way to shut them out when I need to. I go see him every Thursday."
"Good," Malvor breathed out heavy. "Good. I was going to start screaming into the void if another god tried to borrow your nervous system without asking."
I huffed a tiny laugh. He smiled like that sound was the best thing that had happened to him all year. "Food? Bath? Sleep? Dramatic monologue about how the mountain man stole my Thursdays?"
"Bath. Then… we'll see."
We bathed together a lot. It had become our reset, an excuse to be close when neither of us had the words to say we needed it. Tonight felt different. The tub was already running when we walked into the bathroom, because Arbor was over-invested. Malvor helped me undress, careful, unhurried. No jokes. No innuendo. Just his hands, steady and gentle, sliding fabric from my body like it was something holy. When his shirt came off, I did whistle, quietly, just to see his mouth twitch. We slid into the water together, my back against his chest, my legs tangled with his under the surface. The heat soaked into my bones. The rune in my shoulders hummed. His chin rested lightly on my shoulder. "How's the noise?" he murmured.
"Just me and you, and Arbor humming because it's nosy." The house lights flickered once in offended agreement. I smiled and relaxed. For a long time, we didn't talk. We didn't have to. I could feel him breathing against my back, the slow rise and fall of his chest. My own breath matched it, without effort.
"Your rune's still glowing," he whispered. I looked down. The earthen lines across my shoulders and collarbone pulsed faintly beneath the water, golden-brown light moving slow as a heartbeat. His fingers lifted from the water and brushed the line where the rune curved under my collarbone. The touch was feather-light, reverent. My breath stuttered. He noticed. "Is this okay?" he asked, voice low, roughened by something I didn't have a name for.
"Yes. It's… good."
He exhaled shakily against my neck. He shifted, just slightly, so I could feel his attention moving. His hands traced the glowing lines, following their pattern with a slow discipline that made my skin spark under the heat of his touch. "You reclaimed this," he murmured, almost to himself. "Not given. Not carved. Not forced. Chosen."
He kissed the top of my shoulder, right where Tairochi's rune anchored itself like a root. The water rippled. He kissed another line of the rune, following its path. "I didn't save you. But this? This feels like watching you save yourself."
My throat tightened. His lips followed the glowing curve beneath my collarbone, and the hum of the rune pulsed under him, responding, welcoming, anchoring.
"Malvor," I breathed.
He stilled, forehead pressing to my shoulder, his hands settling over my ribs like he was afraid to let me drift. "You don't understand. Chaos bows to nothing. Nothing. But this, this earth in you, this strength. Asha, I swear, you are the first thing that's ever made me want to kneel."
My eyes closed. Something inside me loosened. I turned in his arms, water slipping around us. His hands flattened against my hips instinctively, steadying me. I touched his face. His eyes went soft in a way that punched the air from my lungs. "I'm not asking you to kneel."
"I know." His voice was a broken exhale. "That's why I want to."
I lifted his hand and pressed it over the rune glowing at my heart. "I'm still learning how to stand. With this. With all of it."
He swallowed hard. "Then let me stand with you."
The water lapped gently at the tub's edge. His thumb brushed my skin, slow and grounding. The noise in my mind didn't disappear. It simply stepped back like the earth itself exhaled. When the water cooled, he snapped his fingers, and warmth flowed back in. When my muscles finally loosened enough that I almost slid under, he wrapped his arms tighter around my waist, keeping me afloat with insulting ease.
"Sleep?" he asked.
"Mm." I nodded. "Yeah."
He dried us with a spell, soft and warm as a towel. I pulled on one of his shirts, soft cotton, swallowing me whole. He tugged on sleep pants and nothing else. We padded to the bed. He let me climb in first, tucking the blankets around me. He slid in behind me, leaving a respectful gap, not touching until I reached back and found his wrist.
"Hey," I murmured.
"Hey," he echoed.
"You can hold me," I said quietly.
He didn't lunge. Just scooted closer, curling his body around mine, one arm under my head, the other draping over my waist. I fit between him and the mattress like we'd been made that way. His chaos was quiet, like a storm sleeping with one eye open. I lay there, listening to his heartbeat against my back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was… calm. I wasn't exhausted from fighting my own mind. I was just here. With him.
The thought slid in, quiet, dangerous. You could choose this. Heat curled low in my stomach. Not the sharp, weaponized lust I'd been trained to wield. Not the obedient response to someone else's need. Slow warmth. I swallowed. My heart thudded harder. Not from panic. From something that felt dangerously like anticipation. He shifted behind me, just a little. "You okay?" he whispered into my hair.
"Yes." The answer came easy. True. I turned in his arms until I faced him. His eyes were already open, watching me like I was the only star left in the sky.
"I'm really okay," I added.
"Good. Then I can stop pretending to sleep and go back to staring at you like a creep."
I snorted before I could talk myself out of it, I leaned forward and kissed him. Slow and deliberate. His lips parted under mine, surprised, then softened, kissing me back with the kind of care that used to make me want to scream. Not tonight. I moved closer, swinging a leg over his hip so I could straddle him, pressing him down into the mattress. His hands flew to my waist, instinctive. Loose, not pulling me closer, not pushing me away. I slid my palms down his chest, over the shifting tattoo patterns, feeling them flicker and swirl under my touch like a storm responding to my fingers. He shivered. Gods, that felt good.
Making him react because I wanted to. My pulse jumped. My hands drifted lower, tracing the lines of his abdomen, the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a breath, his fingers tightening reflexively on my hips. "Asha," he said again, voice strained. "You don't owe me this. You never will."
"I know," I said. And I did. That was exactly why I wanted to. Carefully, deliberately, I slid down his body, kissing my way along his chest, the center of his ribs, the space over his heart. His hands twitched, hovering like he didn't know whether to stop me or pull me closer. When I shifted off his hips and knelt between his thighs, he bolted half upright. I rested my hands on his stomach and pushed him gently back down. "Malvor, I've done this a thousand times and never once because I wanted to. I was never allowed to enjoy it. If I'm ever going to reclaim any of that, it's going to be with you. While I'm actually in my own head."
He stared at me like I'd just cracked his ribs and climbed inside his chest. "You're going to kill me," he whispered.
"Not tonight. Tonight, I'm going to worship you a little. Don't think, Just feel. Let me give." I repeat the words he told me the first time he gave pleasure to me.
The god of chaos blushed. "Okay," he said hoarsely. "But if anything feels wrong, if you dissociate, if you flinch, we stop. Immediately. I don't care if I'm halfway to ascension, you say the word and I will actually throw myself into a portal."
"Deal," I said.
"You don't have to be good at it. You don't have to perform. You don't have to make it some legendary—"
"Malvor," I cut in, amused. "Shut up."
His mouth clicked closed. My hands drifted lower, slipping under the waistband of his pants, fingers brushing hot, hard skin. He groaned, head tipping back into the pillow, throat exposed. I watched his face. I wanted to see what I was doing to him. I pushed his pants down, freed him from the last barrier, and for a second, habit tried to seize control. The old script rose in my head like a ghost: Soften your eyes. Part your lips. Make it look effortless. Make it look like a gift. Make him feel like a god. No.
I forced the voice quiet. This wasn't about making him feel like a god. He already was one. This was about me. I wrapped my hand around him first, slow, getting used to the weight, the heat. I forget how impossibly huge he is. It felt new now. His breath hitched, hips jerking just a little before he forced himself still.
"Okay?" I asked.
He nodded, eyes squeezed shut. "Trying not to terrify you with my enthusiasm," he rasped.
"Maybe I like your enthusiasm," I said.
Before he could answer, I leaned down and took him into my mouth. I either used magic or bent science to make it happen. He cursed. A raw, broken sound ripped from his chest. His hands fisted in the sheets beside his hips. He didn't touch my head. Didn't guide. Didn't push. Good this is mine to claim.
I set my own pace. Slow at first, getting used to the feel of it, the slide of skin against my tongue, the salty heat. I could feel his every reaction. The way his stomach tightened, the way his thighs trembled, the way his breath stuttered out of him in uneven bursts. I let myself enjoy that. I pulled back once, licking the tip slowly, watching him flinch. "Tell me what you like."
His eyes flew open, pupils blown wide. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Still waiting," I said.
He swallowed hard. "Okay. Uh. Slow at first. Then… tighter. Use your hand like this." He broke off, flushing again. Then showed me a corkscrew motion. "Gods, this feels illegal."
I smirked and gave him exactly what he asked for. I worked my hand in tandem with my mouth, slowly taking him deeper and humming around the crown. He didn't last long. He was too undone by the fact that I was doing this, because I wanted to. When I felt him start to shake, his hips twitching up despite his best efforts to stay still, he gasped, "Asha, stop, I'm—"
I didn't. Not this time. I leaned into it, hand and mouth working in tandem, riding the sharp edge of control with him. He shattered with my name on his lips, head thrown back, a raw, helpless sound tearing out of him. The burnt sugar flavor of him exploded on my tongue. Hot and sweet. I swallowed, because it felt like sealing the act with a choice instead of a flinch.
When I let him go and sat back on my heels, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth, my heart was racing. But I was still here with my Malvor. Utterly wrecked, chest heaving, eyes blown wide with awe. He pushed up on his elbows, staring at me like I'd just rewritten reality. "Are you okay?" he demanded immediately. "Any flashbacks? Nausea? Resentment? Do you need water? A small country? Therapy? To punch someone?"
"You," I said.
He blinked. "Me?"
I crawled back up his body, bracing my hands on either side of his head, settling astride his hips again. "I want you. Because I'm turned on and grounded and I want to feel you while I'm like this."
His throat worked. "You are trying to actually end me."
I smiled. "You said if I ever started choosing things for myself, you'd back me. Don't start lying now."
His hands came up, cupping my face. "Asha. You are amazing."
"I know," I whispered. I leaned down and kissed him. Letting him taste the sweetness of himself on my tongue. What came after wasn't frantic or desperate. Malvor moved slowly, watching me, and I met him with want instead of obedience. Eventually, I stopped thinking about whether I was choosing. I just was. At some point, the realm dimmed around us, Arbor softening the lights, the bed wrapping us in warmth like it knew better than to intrude. When I came, it tore through me like a wave, my body arching, his name ripped from my throat in a voice that sounded wholly, finally, like mine. He followed with a groan, burying his face in my neck, hands gripping my hips like I was the only thing anchoring him to existence.
After, we lay tangled in sweat and sheets. He tried to speak first. I pressed a finger to his lips.
"I know what you're going to say," I murmured.
"What am I going to say?" he asked, voice wrecked.
"That I don't have to ever do that again. That if it felt wrong at any point, we can pretend it never happened. That you're honored. That I'm terrifying. That you love me."
He stared at me. "You're very smug for someone who just almost killed a god with her mouth."
I smiled, "Did it."
"Asha."
"It didn't feel wrong. Not for a second. It felt… mine. That's new. I wanted that. I wanted you. I was there for all of it."
His eyes shimmered. He pulled me in tighter until my head rested over his heart, his hand drawing slow circles along my spine. "You are," he whispered, voice rough. "Yours, I mean. You always were. I'm just… honored you let me be here while you remember it."
I closed my eyes, listening to the steady thump beneath my ear. My body was sated. My mind, for once, wasn't replaying pain. It replayed choice.