Private Tales Teeth and Claws

[Glendora]

Luminous eyes of the white fox keyed in on those light orbs of that wolf. They were a little ways into the woods, lilting laughter and clanging of glasses from the party beyond drifted through the light breeze of the night. Dry leaves crackled beneath her paws as she stared at her mate.

It was a wonder he'd gotten her to leave. Probably due to that raw power of the Fall General protecting the Day Court Princess. That, and she had her own court to consider. Her own people.

But now?

Under the full moon of this night nestled within the woods. She was the Huntress. Her hackles were raised. And she and Oakley had something to work through. Snowy, white tail lifted and she lunged, sharp teeth snapping at one of his front legs.

 

[Oakley]

Oakley's shift was seamless—fluid, fast, and instinctual—bones snapping, muscles stretching, until the blonde wolf stood in his place, massive and imposing beneath the pale light of the moon.

'Ora...' the word would brush across her mind, a tone that begged her to calm down. But she was already leaping at him.

His claws dug into the earth to anchor himself as her teeth scraped across his front leg. A snarl tore from his throat—a low, guttural warning that rumbled like distant thunder. Not one of anger, but of defiance. A reminder that she wasn’t the only predator here.

He swung his head to beat her away, though he didn’t snap back, didn’t immediately retaliate, his hackles remained raised and his pale eyes locked onto her glowing, luminous ones. She was fury incarnate, the Huntress beneath the moon, but Oakley wasn’t about to back down.

He backed away, his body low to the ground. 'Do you want to fight me, or do you want me to hear you?..'

The question rippled through her mind, heavy and unrelenting. He didn’t move—didn’t give her his back. The blonde wolf remained steady, a wall of power that would not crumble no matter how hard she hit it.

His body tensed, every muscle coiled and ready. He watched her instead, holding firm against the firestorm of her fury. 'Talk to me,' he rumbled finally, his snarl quieter this time, though his stance remained strong and unyielding. 'Or tear into me until you’re done. I’m not going anywhere, Princess.'

 

[Glendora]

Head shook and her paws stumbled as she was pushed away. There was a small tuft of his wolf fur in her mouth. She matched his stance. Low to the ground. Shoulders set and hackles raised. Snowy fur sleek and polished in the light of the full moon.

'I should kill her.'

Her voice was nearly a growl in his head.

'Do you know what it was like? To watch her put her filthy hands all over you?'

Then her lupine form snarled. She did want to fight. That pent up tension and rage was like a fire within her. One that was burning to be released. Then, the deeper issue.

'Why did you leave?'

She lunged again. This time going for a light nip toward one of his ears.

 

[Oakley]

Oakley felt the rivulets of blood slowly trailing down his leg, as her words scraped through his mind, igniting a fire in his chest that matched her own.

'Oh, I know exactly what it's like, Princess,' he growled back, his pale eyes locked onto hers, unflinching. 'Jealous, are we?'

But as her thoughts pressed further—'Why did you leave?'—he felt the shift. The raw, wounded edge beneath her rage. His stance softened, just slightly, his head tilting as he allowed her words to sink in.

"I was summoned by my King… Honestly, I didn’t think you’d—"

He didn’t get to finish. Pain tore through him as her sharp teeth clamped onto his ear, the fiery sting snapping his focus. He yelped, a sound more pain than anger, and his jaws snapped reflexively as he stumbled back. He threw his head furiously to shake her free. Again, he felt the slick warmth of blood trickle down the side of his face.

Enough was enough.

With a low, guttural snarl, Oakley surged forward, his powerful body moving like a coiled spring released. He pounced, his weight bearing down on her as he attempted to pin her beneath him. His claws dug into the forest floor for leverage, his teeth bared inches from her throat in a clear warning.

'Care,' he huffed, his voice rough with both irritation and restraint. His pale, golden fur bristled as his breath came in heavy bursts, his pale eyes boring into hers.

'You don't want me around, then you do...You need to make you your mind, huntress' he growled, his voice quieter in her mind now, but no less intense.

His weight shifted slightly, giving her just enough space to push back if she chose to, but he didn’t release her entirely. Not yet.

'You done yet?..'

 

[Glendora]

There was something that twisted inside her guarded, furious heart at his yelp of pain. She felt it. His pain was hers.

Jealous, are we?'

Her teeth bared. Eyes narrowed, even he shook her free. With a small yip, she hit the ground and rolled. Though light on her paws, she wasn't fast enough as his wolf form bore down upon her. His weight threatening to pin her triggered something feral and wild. Something desperate. A consequence from the world she'd been born in. It reminded her of the lashes born to her back. When she couldn't move. Flesh tore open upon a merciless whip.

A pure panic.

Eyes widened in fear as her ears went back. That white fur puffed up in pure fight or flight instincts as her heart hammered violently against her ribs. Then his voice in her mind.

'You don't want me around, then you do...You need to make you your mind, huntress' he growled,

It was a momentary balm to the panic even as she nipped and maneuvered her way out of his weight. Her teeth sharp but nothing meant to be lasting or deep. As she did push back.

'Oakley," very nearly a plea in his mind. 'Don't...'

Head shook as he gave her the space she needed. Those embers of panic still smoldering in her chest but no longer blazing. Her flattened out ears twitched forward, though her fur was still a little floofed as she twisted to look up at him. Fox tail curling around them. Any hint of teeth or a snarl gone.

'No, I'm not done. I'll never be done.' She pawed the ground between them. 'I didn't want to trust my feelings before. Do you know why? Because I wanted no male to have power over me. Ever. I thought I could ignore it. That it would go away.'

The next part nearly a whisper in his mind.

'How very foolish of me.'

 

[Oakley]

Oakley felt the sharp edges of her panic as though they cut into him directly, deeper than her teeth ever could. The wild desperation in her eyes pierced through the haze of his anger, and all that remained was an ache in his chest. He released her, backing away slowly, his blood dripping onto the forest floor in rhythmic droplets. Lowering his head with a soft, almost mournful whine, he murmured a quiet 'I'm sorry. I would never...'

Her voice reached him then, curling into his mind like a balm, though her words carried a weight that made his chest tighten. She spoke of trust, of feelings she had tried to bury, and for a moment, he stood frozen, his golden fur dimmed beneath the moonlight.

As her tone shifted to something softer, more vulnerable, Oakley exhaled slowly. His lupine form shimmered, the shift back into his Fae body quick and seamless. He remained crouched on his haunches, blood streaking his face and soaking into the once-pristine white of his shirt. Even so, he kept his distance, his silvery eyes searching hers with a mix of hesitance and hope.

"Power?" he rasped, his voice hoarse. A mirthless laugh escaped him, low and self-deprecating, as he shook his head. "Gods, Huntress... from the moment I set eyes on you, it’s you who held the power."

He dipped his head further, running a hand through his disheveled blonde hair as he sighed. "I thought... I thought making the oath I did might’ve been enough proof of that. If anyone here is foolish, it’s me."

Lifting his gaze to meet hers again, the raw vulnerability in his expression mirrored hers. His voice softened, a quiet plea laced in his words.

"I would never treat you as they have. I would never allow another male to treat you In such a way again.." he swallowed hard, his eyes glistening. "My Queen if it is what you wanted then I'd drive my blade through my own chest and rid you of the burden. Tell me now, who is Powerless here?"

 

[Glendora]

A ragged exhale as he changed. She followed suit. Her fox form growing into that tall, lithe figure with curves and angles. Silvery moonlit hair was unbound, falling across her face and her shoulders like a furious snowstorm. She frowned as he took a step back.

That space between them like a yawning maw threatening to swallow everything up.

She felt the truth of his words echo within her like a ringing bell.

"No," she said and stepped forward. The silken black gown that looked as if it was pricked and glittering with the stars themselves hugged and shimmered on her form. Even though his blood painted the fabric and her skin in evidence of what they'd just gone through.

"Your are not foolish."

Another step. The distance retreating within the wake of the Night Court Princess.

"You are not powerless."

She stopped before him. Her hand reaching forward to gently smooth out a wound she'd left on his cheek. Her touch a calm, cool balm. Her fingers feathering in the edges of his snowy hair.

"You are mine." She whispered, looking up at him. Claiming him first with her words and then with her lips. There was no hesitation this time. She didn't think about the future. The dangers of what waited for them. The coming war. Her obligations. His obligations.

Just the echo of a whisper in his mind after what she said aloud.

and I am yours


Because she didn't run from anything. And she would ignore this no longer. Run from it no longer. She would face it like she did anything else. With bravery, teeth, and claws.

 

[Oakley]

Oakley’s breath hitched as she approached, her presence commanding, radiant, overwhelming. Gods, she was a goddess incarnate. His knees nearly buckled as her words rang out, his chest tightening in a way that made him feel utterly exposed. Vulnerable.

'You are mine.'

It was both a promise and a claim, and his heart threatened to pound right out of his chest. His pale eyes locked on hers, his body trembling with a mix of anticipation and disbelief. Every instinct screamed that this was it—the moment he had longed for, feared, and hoped against hope might come.

And then, she kissed him.

The bond snapped into place with a ferocity that left him breathless. It was as if the universe itself had bent to weave their souls together, binding them so tightly that the threads of who they were bled into one another. The sensation was electric, roaring through him like wildfire, igniting every nerve, every vein, every part of him in pure, unrelenting fire.

A low, guttural sound escaped him as the shock of it made him shudder. His hands found her face, cradling it as though she were the most precious thing in existence. He kissed her back with all the fervour of a man who had been starving for this, who had finally tasted what it meant to be whole.

"Yours," he whispered into her mind, the bond amplifying the word until it echoed like a vow. "Only yours."

The taste of her, the warmth of her—it was everything. She was everything. His control faltered, his hands sliding from her face to her shoulders, her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. It took everything he had not to give in fully, not to let the sheer need consume him.

He broke the kiss only to study her porcelain face anew, his breath ragged and his voice a raw, desperate rasp. "Did you feel that?" he breathed, smug dimples appearing in his cheeks as he grinned, a quiet laugh tumbling free despite the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

His hand found hers and he lifted it to press it atop his thundering heart.

 

[Glendora]

It was something more powerful than the wind and waves crashing against the rocky cliffs of the nightcourt border. Even as Oakley kissed her. Even as she felt his hands trail along her body and that mechanism lock into place as if nothing in all the fae realms and lands could shake, the stars and gods and goddesses above and below, could ever shake free or loose.

Yours.

A meeting song to his call with the separate parts of a symphony coming together to realize they'd always been a duet. And all her previous worries and fears. Of feeling like she'd be giving up. Giving something away.

Seemed childish now.

Her thumb brushed one of his dimples. Fingers itching to explore every inch of him. A need she felt easily lost in his own desires. She felt that steady beat of his heart. Knew she'd be able to feel its thrum - that familiar cadence even fields away. But luckily, they weren't fields away. Even the thought of distance seemed...painful.

But her eyes remained locked on his own. Her hand still trailing the lines of his face. Her thumb brushing the edge of his mouth.

"I feel you."

She whispered.

I see you.

Left unsaid.

She kissed him again. This time, her teeth dragging along his lower lip. "Tell me there," breathy sentences between moments her mouth was otherwise occupied. "Is somewhere we can go."

The sounds of the party still filtered through those trees not too far away. She wanted Oakley. All of him. A thread of self control was quickly fraying. And she knew at any moment it would snap. And the woods or a bed wouldn't matter anymore.

 

[Oakley]

Every fiber of his being burned with her closeness. The bond pulsed like a second heartbeat, thrumming with the shared rhythm of their souls. Her voice, soft and steady, sent a shiver through him.

I feel you.

Those three words were all he'd wanted and everything he'd needed. Acceptance. A promise, a declaration. He felt seen, claimed, irrevocably hers. The weight of her gaze, the trail of her fingers along his jaw—it was intoxicating. When her teeth grazed his lower lip, his head tipped back, a low growl escaping his throat as her name whispered in his mind like a prayer.

Oakley’s breath hitched as a familiar, electric tingle rippled through his skin—a sensation he recognised all too well. It was the magic of a binding oath, but this was something more, something deeper. This one ran so much further beneath his skin. It coiled around his heart, it latched his soul to hers, and he gave a throaty sound of pleasure at the feel of it. As her lips touched his and her claim echoed through their bond, the threads of that magic began to weave an intricate design across his body.

It started at his chest under her palm, unfurling like vines of shadow and starlight. The design slithered over his shoulder and back, curling down his arm in an elegant, almost predatory pattern, like the night itself had claimed him.

The brand crept higher, just visible at the hollow of his throat, slipping out from beneath his bloodied collar. A curl of dark sky, dappled with stars, marked him unmistakably as hers. The mark of his Night Queen. Ever imprinted.

He caught her gaze, the fire in her eyes mirrored by his own, and he knew she could see it—her magic branding him as surely as her words had. When he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze again, his lips curved into a slow, heated smile.

The world itself faded away, leaving only her—her touch, her scent, her everything. Her question, the quiet, breathy plea for someplace they could go, sent a rush of fire surging through him.

His hands slid to her waist, holding her firmly yet gently, as though he feared she might vanish if he wasn’t careful. His lips ghosted over hers, lingering just enough to tease, to remind her that he was entirely at her mercy.

"My home," he murmured, his voice rough with barely contained desire. His forehead rested briefly against hers as he fought to keep himself in check. "It's not far.."

He kissed her again, this time slower, deeper, pouring every ounce of restraint and devotion into the act as though trying to make her feel the promise in his words. He broke away just enough to whisper against her lips, his breath warm and shaky.

"We best move quickly... before I lose all sense of control. Because by fuck if you keep looking at me like that..." His voice trailed off, and he chuckled low and dark. "We won’t make it to the door."

 

[Glendora]

The magic was something stronger than she could ever have imagined. Something stronger than the cruelty of her brothers and the Night Court. It felt like something she almost couldn't recognize because she hadn't experienced it. Something that felt warm, like love, like home.

Luminous eyes tracked the mark on his skin. That binding magic. Even as she felt a twin tugging sensation on her pale skin. She knew without looking what it was. It would be a moonlit path through the woods dappled with pawprints from a wolf. It etched around her heart, around her ribs to blossom into Oakley's wolf form across her back.

Her grip tightened on him as his lips claimed her own. Oh the things she wanted to do to him. To claim every inch of his body just as her heart and soul had already claimed his own. That thing she'd been so scared of...so cautious of...of what it might mean for weakness, was so...moons, it was so laughable now.

She did not look away even as he spoke. Oh, she looked at him exactly like that. Wanting to do to him those things he wanted to do to her. Her gaze heated and trying to hide nothing.

"Show me where," nearly a low growl against him. "And I'll get us there." Forhead leaned against his own. Her mind whispering against his own. Like a lover's request to see a picture of his home. His front door. Then her magic would swell around them. Like the roaring night itself. All darkness and rushing wind. And if he shared that mental picture with her. They'd suddenly find themselves stepping through shadow and darkness and moonbeams itself to emerge in his home.

 

[Oakley]

Her tightening grip, the heat in her eyes and the sound of her voice, low and filled with a hunger that matched his own. All of it had him shuddering with self restraint, utterly captivated.

Her magic swirled around them like the night itself, a wild and untamed force that called to his soul. He felt her mind brush against his, a whisper of intent, a request wrapped in warmth and trust. Show me where. He didn’t hesitate. He let the image of his sanctuary surface.

The image bloomed between them, clear and vivid, and he felt her magic swell in response. It wrapped around them, a tempest of shadow and moonlight that made the world blur and shift. His hand tightened on her waist instinctively, anchoring himself to her as the wind howled and the bond flared, pulling them through the void together.

When the storm of magic faded, they were standing in the quiet stillness of the forest clearing.
Oakley's home stood in the heart of a grove of ancient oak trees, their gnarled branches twisted high above, creating a canopy of deep green and dappled moonlight. The house itself seemed to grow from the earth, as though it had sprouted from the very roots of the trees around it. The massive oak trunks stood proudly at its edges, some reaching through the walls, their branches woven into the structure like the arms of the earth embracing their dwelling. The trees' roots curled up and through the stone foundation, thick walls of weathered stone cradling the trees, with large windows framed in carved oak, opening out onto the grove.

Vines and moss clung to the stones, winding up the walls like ancient tendrils. A swing creaked on the porch, and lanterns hung from the branches themselves, their soft, flickering light casting a warm glow across the grove at night.

The front door was framed by two large oak trees, their trunks curving toward one another to create a natural archway, the bark intricately carved with spirals and runes. The air was thick with the smell of earth and the faint scent of wood smoke, and the wind whispered through the leaves, filling the space with their music.

"It's not exactly what you're used to, I know.. But it's home," he murmured. It may not have been as grand as her palace, but it was certainly warmer. The doors opened for him, and more warm light spilled into the night. He was already picking straight up from where they'd left off as he pulled her inside, his lips crashing against hers and fingers deftly grappling at the barrier of clothes.

Inside, the oak trees were even more integrated into the design. The large open foyer featured a magnificent spiral staircase, carved directly from the trunk of one of the ancient oaks. The wood spiraled upwards in intricate loops, the walls were lined with branches of shelves. The living space opened up into a grand room with furniture shaped from natural wood, stone, and leather. The hearth, built right into the central tree, offered a glowing warmth, and large oak beams arched overhead with more glowing lanterns hung from them.

The spiral staircase was the heart of the house, leading up to the bedroom—a private sanctuary nestled within the oak canopy. The bedroom itself was built into the high branches, the walls more like the inner chambers of the tree, with large, curved windows that looked out over the grove. The scent of wood filled the room, mingling with the smell of the forest. The bed was large and canopied by soft curtains, and the space felt intimate and warm, like a secret haven hidden among the oaks.

He laughed against her lips as they moved up the spiraling steps, losing items of his clothing along the way.

 

[Glendora]

Her silver eyes drunk up the scene of his house in this grove like a starving man seeing a banquet feast set before him. It was so...him. Wild and warm.

"It's not exactly what you're used to, I know.. But it's home,"

And he was right.

It was a far cry from those spindly rock towers of the Night Fortress Castle. From those cold, jagged, dangerous depths. This was something inviting. Something uniquely and utterly Oakley's. Something warm.

"Home," she whispered against him. Torn between wanting to linger. To imagine what it would feel like to be here a long time. To curl up on that swing with him. What a wild and beautiful dream and one she never dared to dream for herself. And one she still struggled with allowing even into her imagination.

But his lips brought her back to him. Her own teeth grazing his tongue. His lower lip as they climbed those stairs. Her bound hair was released from the twists and braids it was held in, falling down her back in waves that looked like a river of moonlight. The clothing from the ball followed as quickly as his own.

"I am going to devour every inch of you," she purred against him as the last piece of cloth slid free from her skin. The ink of their bond now on full display. That dappled wolf-printed path through the woods. Witih a nudge of her hips she'd urge him onto the bed before straddling him. Predatory eyes glanced down at him before learning in to trail her mouth along his jaw that that mark of his bond to her.

 

[Oakley]

Oakley’s breath hitched as she pressed against him, her moonlit hair tumbling free like liquid silver over her shoulders. His chest rose and fell with sharp, ragged breaths, his pale blue eyes darkened with unrestrained hunger as they traced over her—every curve, every inch of bare skin, and the mark. His mark. His.

Gods.

The sight of it on her pale skin sent a violent shudder through him. That dappled path of pawprints, etched in ink and magic, trailing over her ribs, curling around her heart. His breath left him in a groan, his hands gripping her hips, thumbs brushing reverently over the path of ink. It was real. She was real. And she was his.

His head tilted back as her mouth dragged along his jaw, her breath hot against his skin, her words curling like smoke through his mind. Devour. The promise in her voice sent fire licking down his spine, and the last fraying strands of restraint snapped like brittle twigs.

His hands roamed up her back, fingers tangling in her unbound hair before he fisted it, tilting her head back just enough to bare her throat to him. A low, primal growl rumbled from his chest as he leaned up, his lips brushing, then pressing, then biting—grazing his teeth over the delicate skin of her throat before soothing the spot with his tongue.

“You’re going to devour me?” he rasped against her pulse, his voice wrecked and thick with need. “Moons, love, you have no idea.”

His fingers dug into her thighs, his body taut beneath her, aching, burning with the need to claim, to worship, to ruin her and be ruined in turn. His lips traced along the column of her throat, down to the curve of her shoulder where the mark began, where magic and fate had bound them together. He kissed the ink, reverent and possessive, his breath a whisper against her skin.

"Look at you," he groaned, pulling back just enough to drink her in again, his eyes nearly wild with the depth of his longing. "Gods, you're perfect."

And then, with a sudden, fluid motion, he flipped them, pressing her into the bed, caging her beneath him. His mouth was everywhere—his hands mapping the path he had no intention of ever forgetting.

Mine. The thought roared through him like wildfire, consuming, undeniable.

His lips found hers again, fierce, desperate, a clash of heat and need as he pressed her into the sheets, his body fitting against hers like they had been carved for each other.

"Let me show you," he breathed, his forehead pressing against hers, his fingers trailing reverently down her side. "Let me show you what it means to be mine."

 

[Glendora]

Her breaths were ragged. Her heart a wild, untamed thing in her chest. Her fingers trailed along his skin. Her nails digging in and leaving light marks that her fingers and mouth quickly soothed.

How?

How could he feel so much like home? More of a home than all the years she’d lived in the Night Court. A small groan of impatience left her throat. Nearly sounding like a growl as he paused.

Luminous eyes stared up at him. The way his face was framed by that snowy hair. The sharp, strong lines of his jaw. The intensity of his eyes all backlit by the light of the full moon streaking in above the bed’s canopy and fae twinkle lights.

He was HERS.

She kissed him as he leaned his forehead against her. Her fingers curling into his hair. Firmly, yet gently she turned his head and nipped at his ear. Teeth dragging along skin followed by a whisper.

“Don’t stop.”

Show me. A caress sling their bond and into his mind.

Her hands would drag down the muscles in his back and would dip low. The shadows in the corners of the room trembled and the light of the moon itself seemed to stutter.

 

[Oakley]

Oakley’s breath was ragged, his body thrumming with an aching, all-consuming need as her hands roamed over his skin, her nails dragging, marking, claiming. His muscles tensed beneath her touch, only to melt as her lips followed, soothing the fire she stoked within him.

Her impatience sent a thrill through him, her small, near-growl igniting something primal in his chest. His lips curled, his wolf’s hunger flashing in his eyes as he hovered above her, drinking her in. The sight of her beneath him, silver hair fanned out like moonlight across the sheets, her luminous eyes burning with a hunger to match his own—Gods. He was undone.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him, her breath hot at his ear, her words a demand that sent a violent shudder down his spine.

'Don’t stop.'

The whisper caressed his mind, curling through their bond, a command, a plea, a challenge. And he would answer.

The moment her hands dipped lower, the moment the moonlight faltered and the very shadows trembled around them—something inside him snapped.

Oakley crushed his lips against hers, his body pressing into hers, no space left between them, no distance at all. He could feel her through the bond—not just her touch, not just the press of her body against his, but everything. Her need, her hunger, her pleasure, mirroring his own like a fire set to roaring. The intensity of it shattered him, remade him.

He had lain with many females before, but never like this. Never so connected. Never with his soul bare, his heart offered. Never with the sensation of pleasure not just his own, but hers— entwined so deeply that he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

It was mindless. It was consuming. It was everything.

__________________________________________________________________​

Afterward, Oakley lay on his back, chest heaving, his body utterly spent but sated in a way he had never known before. His arm was still curled around her, unwilling to let her go, his fingers idly tracing the path of her mark along her ribs.

He had no words. There were no words for what had just happened. No clever remark, no teasing quip, nothing to contain what they had just experienced.

The bond still hummed between them, warm and lingering, a second heartbeat steady in his chest. He could feel her still—her contentment, her exhaustion. His lips twitched, exhausted but undeniably pleased, as he turned his head slightly to press a kiss to her temple. His voice was hoarse, rough with emotion as he finally spoke.

“That was… I don’t even have a gods-damned word for what that was.”

He exhaled sharply, chest shaking with something between a chuckle and disbelief. His fingers traced lazy circles along her spine, his thumb brushing the soft skin just beneath her ribs. “If you were trying to ruin me, Huntress, congratulations. I don’t think I’ll ever recover.”

His pale eyes, still darkened with lingering heat, flicked down to her flushed face. His smile softened, more real than anything he had ever given another.

 

[Glendora]

The Princess of the Night Court lay half sprawled on top of Oakley's chest. A silken arm draped over his torso, the lazy swirls of her fingers along his ribs. She was tracing invisible constellations. She wore so many masks. Submissive. Reserved. Calculating.

But in this moment?

Oakley saw a taste of who she was beneath. He would feel her true self through their bond. A powerful female born into the wrong court, full of dreams with an air of untamed, unbreakable wildness.

Eyes the color of a pale moon met his own. Fingers lifted from his side as she slid them through his snowy hair, smoothing the tousled strands from his face. "I still wonder if I'm dreaming. If all this," her eyes flickered around the warm room briefly before settling back on him completely. "will disappear."

There were things to do. Things to prepare. Her brother would be coming for her. His assassins. She needed to check on her people. She needed to tell Oakley about...her other project.

But that could wait.

Stars, she wanted it all to wait for a long time. To just be his Huntress and he her Hunter. "I wish I'd found you centuries ago," she said quietly and captured his lips with her own before settling back down against him. Hand drifting back down to his chest. Letting her palm rest against the steady beat of his heart.

"Tell me a secret, Oakley."

 

[Oakley]

Oakley let out a slow breath, his hand tracing idle circles against the bare skin of her back as he stared up at the ceiling, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing. Her weight half-sprawled on top of him was grounding, the warmth of her body pressed against his something he never wanted to lose.

Through the bond, he could feel her—the raw, unguarded truth of her. The wildness she kept caged behind sharp words and sharper eyes. The part of her that ached for freedom, for something beyond duty and the blood-soaked walls of the Night Court. The part of her that was his.

His pale eyes flicked down to meet hers as her fingers threaded through his hair, smoothing it back, her touch impossibly gentle. His chest tightened at her words, at the quiet confession in them.

'I still wonder if I'm dreaming. If all this will disappear.'

Gods. He would burn the world before he let that happen. He tilted his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist before she settled against him again, her palm resting over his heart.

"None of this is going anywhere." he rumbled,

'Tell me a secret, Oakley.'

His fingers stilled against her back. For a long moment, he said nothing. Just breathed. Just let himself exist in this moment with her, where there was no war, no expectations, no weight of the world pressing in. Just them.

Then, finally, he spoke, voice quiet but rough around the edges.

"The night I met you, I prayed to the gods you wouldn’t look at me."

He exhaled a short, humourless laugh, shaking his head slightly. "Because I knew if you did, I’d never recover. I knew I’d want you. That I'd want you in a way I wouldn’t survive."

His hand covered hers, pressing her palm more firmly against his chest, against the steady, unshakable beat of his heart.

"And I was right."

His fingers curled over hers, a slow, deliberate movement. "But I was wrong about one thing. I am surviving. Because of you. And I’d do it all over again, Huntress. I’d lose myself in you a thousand times over and never once regret it."

His lips quirked, a flicker of mischief beneath all the devotion in his gaze. "So. Was that secret good enough, or do you need another? Or perhaps, you might offer one of your own.." he lilted.