Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Emily woke with a sharp inhale, heart pounding.

The ceiling above her was smooth and unfamiliar. She jolted upright, only to groan as her muscles protested.

Where—

Her eyes scanned the room. It was small. Normal. A bed, a dresser, a worn closet door. A single chair sat tucked in the corner and in it.

Caelan.

He stood the moment she moved.

“You’re safe,” he said quickly, crossing the room to sit beside her. “It’s okay.”

She blinked at him, disoriented. “Where are we?”

“We’re still at the farmhouse.”

Emily stared. “…What?”

Her last memory was rubble. Blood. Stone splitting apart around her. This room looked… untouched.

Caelan saw her confusion and gave a crooked smirk. “This seems to be the only room still intact.”

Emily frowned. And then it hit her.

The fight.

Tess.

Her eyes widened. “Wait—what happened? Is Tess okay?”

Caelan nodded, his expression softening. “She’s safe. She’s with Varis. I sent them back to Viremoor already—I didn’t want to risk moving you until you’d had some rest.”

Emily’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“You had… a lot of injuries,” Caelan said, his voice quieter now. “Varis did what she could, but she was nearly drained after. You had three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, your right eye socket was fractured in two places. Skull fracture. Lacerations everywhere. A few broken fingers and toes too.”

Emily’s eyes grew wider with every word. “Damn. How was I still standing?”

“I have no idea,” Caelan murmured. “It’s extraordinary.”

He reached up, his hand brushing lightly against her temple as he tucked a blood-matted strand of hair behind her ear. But his hand didn’t fall away.

It lingered, warm and steady against her cheek.

His eyes locked on hers—steady, unreadable, but softer than she’d ever seen them.

“You,” he said quietly, “are extraordinary.”

Emily’s heart skipped a beat.

His fingers had tightened slightly against her cheek and jaw—not rough, but firm, like he was holding her in place. Like he was caught between pulling her closer and keeping himself still. There was heat in that touch now, sharp and restrained, desire barely held in check.

It wasn’t the touch of someone cradling something fragile.

It was the grip of a man one breath away from giving in.

Emily’s breath stuttered. Her pulse roared in her ears. She couldn’t move—didn’t want to move.

His pale eyes, so unreadable from afar, were anything but now. This close, she could see everything. They weren’t just silver. They shimmered faintly with purple flecks, almost like crushed amethyst scattered through steel.

They were… beautiful.

She couldn’t look away.

Her gaze flicked down unintentionally, to his lips. Perfectly shaped. A little parted, like he was breathing through whatever war was raging in his head.

And then, slowly, he bit his bottom lip.

Licked it. As if trying to stop himself.

She looked into his eyes again, and this time she felt it—how much he was holding back. The weight of it. The burn of it.

She swallowed hard, breath catching in her throat.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

The words slipped out before she could second-guess them—barely more than a breath, but they hit like lightning.

Caelan’s eyes flared.

Then he shut them, hard, like he was trying to seal something in. Or out. His fingers curled tighter at her jaw as he leaned in, closer, until their foreheads touched. His breath was warm against her skin. Everything in his body was taut.

“I can’t,” he said, voice low and raw.

Emily’s heart clenched. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t actually want this,” he ground out. “It’s probably the bond. The pull. It’s not real.”

She stared at him, something dark and sharp catching in her chest.

“Who cares,” she growled. “Make me kneel.”

His eyes snapped open at her response.

And then he was on her.

Lips crashing into hers, hands threading into her hair, his body pressing her back into the mattress like he’d finally given up fighting the storm inside him. The kiss wasn’t gentle—wasn’t careful. It was all heat and hunger and restraint breaking. Like something wild had been unchained.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Emily gasped against his mouth as they fell back against the bed, his weight grounding her, stealing her breath. One of his hands slid to her waist, anchoring her. The other braced beside her head, keeping him from crushing her completely.

But his mouth—his mouth was fire and fury and want.

And she kissed him back like she’d been waiting forever.

Caelan tore his mouth from hers like it physically hurt to stop.

He was breathing hard, his eyes wild, silver and violet lit like stormfire. His hand hovered above her, shaking slightly, as if torn between reverence and hunger.

Then he pushed back. Abrupt. Sharp.

He stood.

For a heartbeat, Emily lay stunned, lips parted, chest rising and falling. She blinked up at him—heat still flooding her system, her soul buzzing from the force of that kiss.

His voice dropped—low, cold, commanding.

“Kneel.”

Something in her spine shivered.

Emily pushed up slowly, eyes never leaving his, and slid off the bed. The floor was cool against her knees. She settled into place without hesitation, without shame.

She chose it.

Chose him.

Caelan’s breath hitched—just barely. His hands clenched at his sides.

Then he stepped forward.

His fingers caught the collar of her robes and pulled—not roughly, not cruelly. But decisively. The fabric parted and slid away, baring her skin to the floating lights and the weight of his gaze.

He didn’t touch her.

He didn’t speak.

He just stood there for a long moment, looking down at her—naked, kneeling, his by choice—and something in his expression fractured.

It wasn’t just desire anymore.

It was awe. Hunger. Possession. As if he didn’t know whether to worship her or destroy the world for her.

And Emily—heart racing, lips parted, skin burning—had never felt so powerful in her life.

Caelan’s stare burned.

A breath passed—then he let out a low, feral sound from deep in his chest. A growl that rumbled like a warning. Or a promise.

In one motion, he ripped his own robes off.

Emily’s jaw dropped.

He was—

Perfect.

All sculpted lines and carved strength. Lean and powerful, like a weapon forged in flesh. Every part of him radiated control and danger. But it wasn’t just that. Her eyes dropped lower—and her breath caught.

Oh.

Oh.

He was… made for sin.

And he knew it.

For a moment, Emily’s confidence wavered. A flicker of uncertainty tugged at her expression.

Caelan saw it.

And smiled.

Not cruelly. Not arrogantly.

But with dark amusement and a whisper of reassurance.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, stepping closer. “It’ll fit. And you’ll love it.”

Before she could respond, he reached down and lifted her—effortless like her weight meant nothing. Their mouths collided again, hotter, deeper, more desperate than before. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers threading into his curls as he held her like something precious—and devourable.

The heat between them spiked—white-hot and all-consuming.

Every nerve in her body lit up as his kiss deepened, as her back met the wall and his hands roamed, claiming her, anchoring her, igniting her.

She’d never felt anything like this. Never been anything like this.

Undone. Unraveled. Willingly his.

And when his lips dragged down her throat, and his voice growled her name like a sin…

Caelan turned from the wall, still holding her, and lowered her to the bed like she was something sacred.

His mouth never left her skin.

He kissed along her throat, down her collarbone—slow, deliberate. Reverent and possessive all at once. When his lips reached the swell of her chest, he paused looking up at her… then continued lower, tracing a burning path with his tongue.

Emily gasped.

She could barely think, barely breathe. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her body arching to meet every touch, every tease.

Down her stomach.

Down farther.

When his mouth found the heat between her thighs, her back arched with a sharp cry of pleasure.

His tongue moved in devastating swirls—delicious, maddening, relentless.

She couldn’t form words.

Couldn’t focus.

Could only feel.

But just as the peak neared, just as her body began to tremble on the edge—

He stopped.

Emily whimpered. “Caelan—”

He didn’t answer. Just started again.

Built her up.

Held her there.

Stopped.

Again.

And again.

By the fourth time, she was panting, shaking—tears of frustration in her eyes.

“Caelan,” she choked. “Please… I need you.”

At that, he finally looked up.

His eyes were molten. His voice like velvet and fire.

“Say it again.”

Emily stared at him, flushed, undone. “I need you.”

A low growl of approval rumbled in his throat.

And then he was on her again—over her, with her—and this time there was no teasing. No restraint.

He shifted above her, positioning himself at her entrance.

Emily tensed and a flicker of hesitation crossed her eyes.

Caelan’s hand came to her cheek again, his gaze steady.

“Trust me,” he said softly.

She reached up, cupping his face—thumb brushing his lips as she pulls him closer until their foreheads met and she relaxed into him.

He eased into her, slow and steady, until she felt nothing but him—deep, consuming, and filling every inch of her. Her breath caught, a quiet gasp escaping as the sensation stole her thoughts.

And then he moved—slowly, deeply—and everything changed.

Her body arched, instinctive and unrestrained, as he filled her in a single, devastating stroke. Heat bloomed like lightning through her veins, sharp and breath-stealing. It was too much—and somehow not enough. She clung to him, helpless against the way her body trembled.

Caelan exhaled roughly against her neck, his control fraying at the edges.

He moved again.

And again.

The rhythm built, unrelenting. She felt everything—his strength, his restraint, the way his hands gripped her waist like he didn’t trust himself to let go. Their bodies locked together, slick with heat, breath, and urgency.

She moaned his name—half plea, half surrender.

He answered by thrusting deeper, faster, until all she could do was hold on. Her nails scored down his back. His mouth found hers again—desperate, claiming. They were chaos and rhythm, fire and gravity.

Each movement wound her tighter.

Each kiss stripped her further.

And when she finally shattered beneath him, it was with a cry that tore through the air—raw, real, his name on her lips like a spell.

Caelan followed seconds later, his body seizing above hers as he buried his face in her shoulder with a ragged groan, arms shaking as he held her through it.

Silence crashed in like a wave.

Only the sound of their breaths remained—shaky, tangled, shared.

Their breaths were uneven, filling the space like the fading echo of a storm. The sheets tangled around them in disarray, half-forgotten, useless now except for the way they cradled the warmth between their bodies.

Caelan didn’t move at first. He stayed there, braced above her, forehead resting against her shoulder as if grounding himself. His hand curled around her side, thumb brushing slowly back and forth like he didn’t realize he was doing it.

Emily's fingers drifted up into his hair—those soft, dark curls she’d secretly wanted to touch for weeks—and she gently threaded them through, slow and steady, like a question she didn’t have the words for.

He let out a breath against her skin. Then another.

Then he finally lifted his head.

Their eyes met again—closer now, softer, stripped of all pretense. He looked different in this light. Less like a ruler. Less like a mage.

More like a man still learning how to breathe with someone else in his arms.

Emily reached up and tucked a stray curl behind his ear, just to have something to do with her hands. “So…” she said, voice rough, barely above a whisper. “That happened.”

A faint huff escaped him—almost a laugh. Almost.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers once more. Gentle now. Reverent.

Then he whispered, “I’ve wanted that longer than I care to admit.”

Emily blinked.

Her heart gave a traitorous thump. “Really?”

He nodded slowly, thumb tracing the corner of her mouth.

She let her head fall back into the pillow, half-laughing, half-aching. “God, we’re a mess.”

“Yes,” he said with a gentle laugh.

She swallowed. Her fingers grazed his jaw, the faint stubble there. “What happens now?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he shifted down beside her, gathering her against his chest. His heartbeat was solid under her cheek, steady and grounding.

“We sleep,” he murmured, lips brushing her hair.

“And tomorrow?”

His arm tightened around her waist. “Tomorrow… we start figuring out what this really means.”

Emily closed her eyes.

For the first time since arriving in this strange, terrifying world, she didn’t feel like she was falling anymore.

She felt held.