Chapter 39: The Night on Iskaara

The fire crackled softly a few steps away, casting flickering shadows on the dark sand. The dancing light brushed against Evelyn’s features, setting her eyes aglow with an amber shimmer as she gazed at the horizon, lost in thought. The whisper of the waves and the distant hum of nocturnal creatures created a cocoon of stillness, almost unreal in its tranquility.

Vykhor, however, wasn’t looking at the ocean.

He was looking at her.

The softness of this moment stood in stark contrast to everything they had been through. The tension, the fear, the blood, and the pain… All of it seemed to fade, as if, for the first time since their paths had crossed, they could exist outside the chaos that constantly surrounded them.

Evelyn turned her head slightly, her gaze meeting his.

What she saw there sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. It wasn’t just protection, nor the unspoken mutual respect that had grown between them.

It was something else. Something undeniable, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

For a fleeting second, she considered looking away. But she didn’t.

Vykhor didn’t move, but she could feel him—his presence, his warmth, the barely perceptible tension in his posture, like a predator ready to pounce.

"You should get some rest," he finally said, his deep voice rougher than usual.

She hesitated. He hadn’t moved an inch, but she knew he was fighting something—against her, against himself.

His gaze, burning like embers, slowly dragged over her. A barely audible sigh escaped his lips.

He was a breath away from her.

The fire was dying down, casting only a faint, flickering glow on the dark sand. The ocean, relentless and mesmerizing, continued its quiet murmur, its phosphorescent waves caressing the shore in hypnotic strokes.

That look.

She had seen it before, in fleeting moments, when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. In those quiet seconds when he watched over her without a word, when his grip on her wrist lingered just a bit too long, when his tone grew gravelly whenever he said her name.

But here, now, he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore.

"You should sleep," he murmured again, one last time, his voice breaking the stillness around them.

Evelyn let out a small smile, dropping her gaze to the patterns she traced in the sand.

"Maybe."

Silence. A silence that vibrated.

Then, without really thinking, she added, her voice softer, bolder—

"And you?"

She lifted her head slowly, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs as their gazes locked again.

His expression had changed.

This wasn’t just a look anymore—it was a hold, an invisible, scorching grip that sent a shiver down her spine despite the warmth of the night.

Vykhor didn’t answer right away. He simply stared at her with that same predatory intensity, studying her, dissecting every flicker of hesitation, every breath.

Then, with a slow, almost imperceptible movement, he reached out.

His fingers brushed against a loose strand of hair that had slipped from Evelyn’s bun.

A simple touch. A whisper of contact.

His fingertips grazed her cheek so lightly it barely counted as a touch at all.

She forgot to breathe.

"Evelyn…"

Her name rolled through the air, husky, carrying a weight she understood all too well.

He was too close.

Or maybe it was her who was too close.

Time slowed as his fingers slid along her skin, tracing a path of fire.

Evelyn couldn’t tell which of them had moved first.

But in that moment, it didn’t matter anymore.

There was only this tension, this moment balanced on a knife’s edge, where everything could tip over.

Then, in a whisper that barely existed between them, Evelyn stopped fighting what she already knew.

And Vykhor—he had never intended to fight it at all.

His touch on her cheek was only the beginning.

Vykhor let his fingers slide lower, trailing a burning line along her neck before settling at the nape of her neck with calculated firmness. Not a threat. Not restraint.

But a warning.

Evelyn shivered under his grip—but she didn’t pull away.

Her gaze lifted to his instinctively, trapped in this invisible hold, where time ceased to exist.

Their breaths mingled.

Vykhor didn’t move. He was frozen in place, waiting.

Waiting to see if she would be the one to pull away.

Waiting to see if she would be the one to break.

But Evelyn didn’t.

She knew what he was waiting for.

She knew he was testing her.

And in that moment, in that silence, she understood—he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything.

Slowly, she lifted a hand, placing her fingers against his arm, feeling the heat of his skin, the coiled tension beneath his grip.

Her thumb traced a slow circle over his wrist.

A silent answer.

"I'm here, Vykhor."
"I’m not backing away."

The Kael’tarien exhaled slowly, his golden eyes flickering with something undecipherable.

A heartbeat stretched too long—then he decided.

He took.

His other hand found her waist, and with fluid precision, he pulled her into him, forcing her to fully face him.

Evelyn tipped back slightly, her balance lost in the firm grip he had on her. But Vykhor didn’t let her fall.

No.

He pulled her closer.

Their bodies aligned, pressed flush, and Evelyn felt the heat radiating from him, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Vykhor’s gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth, and this time, he didn’t stop.

His lips found hers with a controlled, unyielding certainty, a claim that left no room for doubt.

It was a conquest. A revelation.

Everything about him was control.

Everything about him was domination.

But in this kiss, there was also a raw hunger, a need barely restrained.

Evelyn didn’t pull away.

She answered.

Her hand slid up his arm, fingers gripping his shoulder as she let herself fall into the fire.

She had never been kissed like this.

Like she belonged to someone.

Like she had always belonged to him.

Vykhor deepened the kiss, his fingers tightening against the back of her neck, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.

A shudder ran through Evelyn, and he felt it.

He knew.

A low growl rumbled against her lips as his fingers slowly slid from her hip to her back, exploring the body that was finally his. Evelyn felt her own desire ignite under his touch and melted against him completely, her barriers falling one by one under Vykhor’s dominance.

There was no turning back.

The fire between them was no longer contained. It demanded everything.

And tonight, Vykhor was going to take it all.

He didn’t loosen his grip. If anything, he tightened it, his fingers pressing into the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss, imposing his rhythm, his authority, until Evelyn felt her breath slip away. But he didn’t release her right away.

He held her captive against him, forcing her body to follow his movements, to align with his, to surrender to the heat he unleashed upon her.

She had never experienced this before.

No man had ever dared touch her like this.

No one had ever claimed her with such intensity.

A soft whimper escaped her when he nipped at her lower lip, before releasing her with a slow, deliberate motion.

As if he was savoring every second of her growing submission.

Evelyn’s eyes fluttered open, her pupils blown wide with excitement. Vykhor didn’t move, his molten gaze locked onto hers, watching, measuring.

He wanted her to realize he would not back down.

He wanted her to understand he would not let her slip away.

And most of all, he wanted to see if she would step back herself.

But Evelyn didn’t. She had no intention of doing so.

Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, adrenaline, raw desire, and a wild anticipation thrumming through her veins. She knew she should have been afraid of how effortlessly he dominated her, without even truly touching her yet.

But she wasn’t.

She wanted more.

A faint smirk curved Vykhor’s lips when he saw it.

He had caught it—

That silent acceptance.

That impatient hunger.

A low rumble vibrated deep in his chest.

With his hand still cradling her nape, his thumb slowly brushed over her skin before tilting her head back ever so slightly, exposing the vulnerable curve of her throat.

He leaned in, his warm breath teasing her skin, reveling in the tension coiling in her muscles, in the shiver she couldn’t suppress.

"You’re mine, Evelyn," he murmured, his voice low, thick with dark promises. "And tonight, I’m going to prove it to you."

The tremor that ran through her had nothing to do with fear.

Evelyn was ready.

And Vykhor knew it.

He leaned in slowly, too slowly, his grip on her nape firm, possessive.

Evelyn felt his breath against her throat, that scorching heat sending uncontrollable shivers rippling through her.

He was toying with her.

Letting impatience consume her, drowning her in anticipation before giving her what she so obviously craved.

A guttural growl rumbled deep in his chest.

He wanted to feel her lean into him.

He wanted to feel her demand it.

And she did.

Almost unconsciously, Evelyn tilted toward him, offering her throat, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps betraying the adrenaline surging through her veins.

A slow smirk stretched across Vykhor’s lips.

She was perfect.

She understood the game he was playing.

But he wanted more.

He wanted to push her further, to see just how much she was willing to surrender.

His hand slid into her hair, gripping her strands firmly, pulling just enough to tilt her face toward him.

A surprised gasp escaped Evelyn.

She should have protested. But she didn’t.

She let him take.

She wanted this.

She was burning for this.

The Kael’tarien leaned in, teasing her skin, his lips brushing a slow, searing path up to her jawline.

Then, suddenly, he captured her lips again, the kiss deeper, hungrier, no longer bothering to hold back.

Evelyn responded with equal fire, her hand fisting into his tunic, pulling him closer with a strength she hadn’t even realized she had.

A low, approving growl rumbled through Vykhor’s chest.

She wasn’t afraid of him.

She wasn’t some fragile thing to be handled carefully.

She was his.

And she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

Their kiss turned feverish, their breaths ragged, movements more desperate, more chaotic.

Vykhor’s hands roamed over her curves, mapping out every inch of her, leaving trails of scorching heat in their wake.

Evelyn shuddered under his touch, her head tilting back slightly when he devoured her throat again.

She was already breathless, already burning for him.

But this was only the beginning.

And Vykhor intended to show her exactly what it meant to be his.