Chapter 40 : My'Lari

Vykhor straightened and lifted Evelyn with disconcerting ease, as if she weighed nothing. The young woman clung to him instinctively, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her legs locked around his waist. Her heart pounded, in unison with the intensity of her desire and excitement mixed with apprehension. The Kael'tarian's powerful arms held her with implacable firmness, a raw strength contained, controlled. Like a silent promise, an unspoken oath—he would never let her fall.

With a steady step, he left the beach and entered the tent he had pitched earlier. Inside, everything was plain, functional, marked by that military simplicity that was characteristic of him. Two cots were set up, separated by a paltry space. But this configuration was no longer necessary.

Not after tonight.

Not after this. Vykhor's gaze darkened slightly, filled with a fierce intensity, a primal instinct finally unleashed. Evelyn would never be far from him again, here or anywhere else. Aboard the Narak'Tharr, in the icy vastness of space, or in the wilds of Iskaara, she would be his, always at his side.

His ally.

His anchor.

His self-evident truth.

He laid her on the cot with unsettling gentleness, a striking contrast to the raw fire burning in his golden eyes. Evelyn shivered under his piercing gaze, every muscle in her body tense with anticipation. She wanted to speak, to say something, but nothing came. What could she possibly say, anyway, that wasn't already obvious?

Vykhor slid a hand through her straggling hair, brushing his fingertips against her cheek to rid it of the unruly strands framing her face.

His touch was light, almost tender, but the warmth it emanated was burning. Like a possessive caress, an invisible mark that told her, without a single word, that this night would mark a turning point.

In Evelyn's gaze, a veritable maelstrom of emotions swirled. Desire, of course, but also a touch of vulnerability, excitement, and willing surrender. Vykhor saw it, felt it, and it ignited something deeper within him.

A force as indomitable as the universe itself.

He leaned over her then, and the whole world ceased to exist.

As if, in an instant, Iskaara had fallen silent.

Slowly, almost reverently, Vykhor began to undress Evelyn, as one unwraps a precious gift, a hidden treasure that only he had the right to possess. His piercing, burning golden gaze followed every movement of his hands, savoring the moment with feline patience.

The fabric slid over Evelyn's skin, revealing every inch with calculated delicacy, an absolute mastery that contrasted with the pent-up tension in his muscles.

The Kael'tarian was a warrior, a mercenary, a man accustomed to taking, to conquering. But with Evelyn, he allowed himself the luxury of slowness, of silent adoration. Because she wasn't just a desire to be satisfied. She was the gift life had given him, the fallen prince, forged in blood and adversity, condemned to a solitary existence... until her.

His fingers glided over the woman's skin, tracing the lines of her body with studied precision. A shiver ran through her, and Vykhor smiled, satisfied. He loved that reaction, that involuntary shudder, that tangible proof that she felt him, all of him.

What he discovered beneath her hands, beneath her lips brushing against his collarbone, was, in his eyes, the most beautiful thing in the universe.

Not just the softness of her skin or the perfect curves that presented themselves to him, but her. Her hidden strength, her sharp intelligence, her soul forged by pain and resilience.

She was his perfection.

His Evelyn.

He saw her chest rise and fall rapidly, in time with her already panting breaths. When he placed a hand on one of her breasts, Evelyn immediately arched her back, closing her eyes. Her breathing became heavier. She was so sensitive to his touch, so receptive.

“Oh, Evelyn… These are only the beginnings,” he murmured, possessively sweet.

Vykhor gently took Evelyn's hands in his, his warm, solid palms enveloping her thinner fingers. With deliberate slowness, he placed them on the zipper of his bodysuit.

A silent command. An implicit request. But also an invitation. Not simply to remove this garment, but to take a step forward, to fully accept this moment, to trust him.

The Kael'tarian's golden gaze captured Evelyn's, a fire burning in his dark eyes, encouraging her to go through with it.

Evelyn hesitated for a second, feeling her heart pounding in her chest, but Vykhor's intensity left no room for doubt. She took a deep breath, then slowly lowered the zipper

A slight shudder ran down her spine as she saw the fabric peel away, revealing inch by inch Vykhor's fascinating skin, that cobalt blue hue, crisscrossed with fine lines of bioluminescent energy that pulsed gently.

A living masterpiece.

Vykhor helped her, freeing his arms in a fluid, precise movement, shedding the suit without an ounce of hesitation.

Evelyn, however, stood frozen for a moment, breathless. She knew his body was extraordinary, but admiring it like this, naked, so close... that was different.

As if hypnotized, she raised a trembling hand, brushing her fingertips over those pulsing lines of energy. Beneath his skin, raw power, a being built for war... but who was surrendering himself to her, here, now.

“You are so beautiful, Vykhor,” she finally whispered, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. “So incredible.”

A suspended silence followed her words. Vykhor’s feline pupils widened slightly, a shadow of astonishment crossing his gaze. He was not a modest man; he knew his worth, his strength, his charisma. But never before had anyone looked at him the way she did in that moment.

Not with admiration or fear.

Not with raw desire or submission.

She looked at him like a man. And when he smiled, it wasn't the arrogance of an invincible warrior, nor the arrogance of a self-assured dominator. No, it was the smile of a man who felt seen. Truly seen.

By her.

His Evelyn.

"You say that because you don't see what I see, Evelyn," Vykhor murmured, his raspy voice vibrating with restrained intensity.

She didn't see what he had seen since day one.

She didn't understand how much she had already won him over.

She still didn't know the extent of the power she held over him.

And yet, he had given her every sign.

The first time... He had almost lost it, when she clumsily uttered a sentence in Kael'tarian. That mistake, that accidental yet sincere statement, had stayed with him like a burn etched into his flesh. At that moment, he had understood that he couldn't simply ignore her, nor hold back forever.

But tonight, he wouldn't hold back.

He wanted to be gentle. He knew he had to go slowly, because she had never experienced this before. But by the stars... it was difficult. Exquisite torture. A pain he had never known and yet savored with a pernicious pleasure.

His lips left her collarbone, slowly moving up to her neck. He bit Evelyn harder this time, a little more possessive, a little more hungry.

A reminder.

A reminder of that first warning, spoken in a breath heavy with desire and inevitable promises.

"You haven't forgotten, have you?" he breathed, his breath hot against her shivering skin. "If I take, I take it all." His incandescent gaze bored into Evelyn's, a silent oath exchanged between them.

"And tonight, that's what I will do."

He lightly squeezed the back of her neck, a firm but not harsh grip, an affirmation of what they were about to seal. Evelyn, breathless, shivered at the touch.

"You are mine."

Then, in a softer but equally definitive whisper, he breathed a word in Kael'tarian.

"My'Lari."

Evelyn, surprised by this intonation, opened her mouth slightly, but Vykhor didn't give her time to question. He sealed his lips with hers, reducing her to the sole sensation of him, of his body against hers, of the evidence of their union.

But in his mind, a question still formed.

What did My'Lari mean?

In Kael'tarian, it meant "my star" or "my guide." And Vykhor thought it suited his Evelyn perfectly. But he wouldn't tell her. No, he would let her find out for herself.

Vykhor savored the shiver that ran through Evelyn's body as he whispered her new nickname in Kael'tarian. The word, laden with meaning, promises, and belonging, vibrated between them like an ancient melody, an oath whispered in the ear of the one who was now his.

His hand, still on her throat, exerted just enough pressure to remind her of his presence, to make her feel that every fiber of her being belonged to him.

Not to possess her, but to protect her, to claim the bond that had been formed between them long before that night.

His feverish gaze, shining with that golden glow so characteristic of his race, never left hers as he slowly traced his fingertips along her collarbone, savoring the softness of her skin beneath his touch. Evelyn was there, vulnerable, offered, but without the slightest hesitation. She was choosing to be there.

He bit her neck again, this time slower, deeper, savoring the gasp that escaped her lips. He wanted her to feel every sensation, to remember this night not only with her body, but also with that sharp mind, which he admired as much as he desired.

He let his lips fall lower, following the curve of her figure, marking every inch of his territory, HIS territory, with the patience of a predator savoring victory.

But there was a limit to his patience. And Evelyn, in all her innocence, didn't yet realize the extent to which she aroused in him this primal, uncontrollable need, this raw desire to possess her entirely.

With one fluid movement, he tilted her beneath him, dominating the moment with disconcerting ease. His hot breath caressed her skin as he whispered in her ear, his voice raspier than he would have intended:

"I'll teach you what it means to be mine, Evelyn."

Vykhor took one of Evelyn's slender hands in his and placed it on his erect member. Evelyn gasped in surprise. Doubt and fear crept into her eyes and into her mind as she felt the size of Vykhor's member.

"Evelyn... My'Lari... Look at me," Vykhor whispered softly but firmly.

Evelyn complied without the slightest hesitation, her gaze fixed on Vykhor's, a silent, heated exchange that left no room for uncertainty.

“It's going to be okay. I'll be gentle for you. I'll always be gentle for you. You know that, right?” Vykhor continued.

Evelyn nodded wordlessly.

“Relax, Evelyn. Stroke me, get used to it. I promise you'll like it.”

Evelyn's hand, hesitant at first, began to stroke his member. Vykhor closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, deeply. That gentle hand was giving him pleasure despite its clumsy movements. A rumble of satisfaction rose from Vykhor's throat.

This was only the beginning of a long night.