Soren led Aurania downstairs into the engine room. The great, black sphere of the core floated in the center of the chamber, its concentric rings rotating in a slow, silent dance. Veins of silver-gold light swirled beneath its surface, casting a soft, otherworldly glow across the polished deck.

  He stopped a few paces from it, turning to face her. The light from the core painted shifting patterns across his face, making his strange eyes seem even more luminous. He looked nervous, which wasn’t a word she often attached to him.

  “I had an idea,” he began quietly. “After what Tamiyo said. About the ship responding to intent. To reason. And I think…”

  He took a small step closer, “If it can respond to a desire for comfort, or a need for something silly like a bathtub…” He laughed once, glancing away for half a second. A flicker of amusement flashed in his eyes before they turned serious again. “Maybe it can help us. With this.” He gestured vaguely to himself, the power that simmered beneath his skin, the energy that sometimes burned too bright.

  Her heart began to beat a little faster. “You’re talking about a siphon. ” Her voice flat, trying to keep the tremor out of it. “A way to ground your power.”

  “Maybe. Maybe it’s more than that. This ship, this core… it’s a part of the same energy that’s inside me. If I’m connected to it, really connected, maybe it’s not about siphoning. Maybe it’s about… harmony. A way to balance the output.”

  She stared at him, at the raw hope in his expression. The idea was both beautiful and terrifying. “We don’t know what would happen if you really let go while you were connected to it. You could tear this ship apart, Soren. You could tear us apart.”

  The memory of Piria—of his uncontrolled, apocalyptic rage—flashed in her mind. Without even meaning to, she felt herself take half a step back.

  He saw it—saw the fear in her eyes, and his own expression fell. “I know… but what if we don’t try? Are we just going to spend the rest of our lives afraid to even touch each other?” He took another step forward, closing the distance she had created. His voice dropped to a raw whisper. “Isn’t it worth trying?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t feel pressured, he was echoing the same unspoken plea that crawled in her own mind.

  She should have said no.

  She should have reminded him of the mission, of the dangers, of what was at stake. But his eyes held her, and she saw not the weapon, not the untamed force—but the boy beneath, the man who just wanted to be close to her without fear.

  And she was so fucking tired of feeling alone.

  She gave a single nod, her throat too tight to speak.

  The relief that flickered across his face nearly undid her. He closed the distance between them, hands cupping her face with a tenderness that belied his size and strength. His lips met hers, hesitant at first, then deepening as the tension between them finally gave way.

  Heat flared through her, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as his body pressed into hers. For a moment, there was nothing but the kiss, the way he held her as if she were something fragile, even though she’d never been fragile in her life.

  When she pulled back to breathe, his forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling. He was trembling. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

  His hand found her waist, pulling her in until their bodies were flush against each other once more. The hum of the Aether Core seemed to deepen, the light from its swirling veins intensifying, wrapping them in a soft, golden aura.

  He kissed her again. Not hungry or desperate, but something deeper. Slower. A kiss of relief. It was a promise, a surrender, a question and an answer all at once. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling in the silvery-white strands of his hair. The kiss deepened, and the heat that had been simmering between them for months finally caught fire.

  His lips claimed hers, heat coursing through her veins. She stopped pushing the desire down, letting it breathe.

  Letting it spark.

  She broke the kiss, her hands sliding over his chest, down to the hem of his shirt. Her nostrils flared and she commanded him, “Off.”

  Before he could move, she tugged the shirt over his head herself, tossing it aside. She pressed her palms against his bare skin, guiding him back, back, until the edge of the railing touched his legs.

  This is mine, she told herself. On my terms.

  She pushed him down to the floor, immediately straddling his hips. The sight of him beneath her—broad, powerful, but yielding—was intoxicating. She curled her hand around his jaw, forcing his gaze up to hers. “You follow my lead.”

  He nodded—eager, reverent, every line of his body promising surrender. And for a fleeting moment, she almost believed this could work. That she could contain him the way she contained any blade, any battle—through discipline, control, sheer force of will.

  But then his hands found her waist.

  At first they were tentative, steadying her. But as her pheromones thickened the air—unconscious and unstoppable—his grip tightened. His breath hitched, his pupils dilating as silvery-green light flicked across his irises.

  “Aurania…” His voice was husky, hungry.

  She tried to steady herself with a sharp look, but the heat in his gaze stole her breath. His fingers pressed harder at her hips, sliding up to her ribs, tracing the curve of muscle and fabric as if memorizing her. She told herself she’d allow it—for now.

  It was still her game.

  Still her rules.

  “Eyes up,” she murmured. “Stay with me.”

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  He obeyed, but his gaze was molten, fixed on her with an intensity that made her pulse stutter. His chest rose against hers, every breath sharp with need. When his thumb slipped under her robe, grazing bare skin where he breast met her ribs, she almost let the moment sweep her away.

  Almost.

  She caught his wrist, halting the motion. “Slow.”

  “Yes,” he whispered, but his voice cracked, and the green in his eyes flared brighter. His restraint was fraying, thread by thread.

  His other hand trailed lower, spanning the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. The shock of contact sent heat through her core. She pressed her forehead to his, fighting to steady both their breathing.

  Every second made it harder.

  The pheromones.

  The closeness.

  Their raw need.

  They were colliding in a storm she hadn’t planned for.

  “Good,” she whispered, though the word trembled. “You’re doing good.”

  His lips brushed the corner of her mouth—feather-light, hesitant, and yet enough to ignite everything. Her discipline cracked, and she kissed him back, harder than she intended.

  The kiss burned so good.

  His hands slid higher, anchoring like he might never let go. His tongue grazed hers and she tasted hunger, devotion, the storm threatening to break free. She should’ve pulled away then, should’ve reset the pace—but her body betrayed her, chasing the heat, pressing closer.

  Her nails dug into his shoulders. His growl vibrated against her lips. And when his hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head for more, she realized the balance had shifted.

  She was no longer in control.

  Panic and desire warred inside her. His breath hitched again. His pupils widened, catching faint glimmers of green-silver in the dim light. The Aether Dust in his blood stirred in answer to her desire, resonating like a struck chord. She kissed him harder, trying to anchor herself, trying to keep the rhythm hers. His hands obeyed, holding her waist exactly where she guided them, his body moving with hers, never against.

  But the current bled through him anyway. His strength spiked without warning—not in rebellion, but in raw overflow. The floor plates shuddered beneath them as gravity warped, making it hard for her to even breathe.

  His breath caught. “Aurania—” His voice broke on her name, half-plea, half-terror.

  Then everything shattered.

  His control slipped.

  The Aether Core spiked, the veins of light flashing brighter as the air crackled with raw energy.

  Her chest seized.

  The light in his eyes flared, blinding and uncontrollable. When his arms drew tighter, she felt the tremor—the desperate restraint, the way he was fighting himself not to hurt her. When she tried to move, she feared there was no escape. She strained, every muscle screaming, but it was like being held beneath a mountain.

  For the first time in her life—Aurania Enderchild, War-Chieftess of Berilinsk—was utterly powerless. The ship trembled around them, as if responding to his loss of control, as if caught in the tide of his desire.

  Her chest constricted, terror rising cold and sharp. She wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of what loomed just beyond him, the abyss he carried inside. One heartbeat of lost control, and he could tear them all apart.

  Images of Piria flashed again—crushed bodies, a broken planet, the storm of his unleashed fury.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs.

  Her breath tore out.

  And before she even knew she’d spoken, the word ripped from her throat like a scream:

  “Sicura!”

  The effect was instantaneous.

  The glow in his eyes blinked out in no way she’d seen before, dying like a snuffed fire. The crushing gravity vanished, leaving her gasping. His hands leapt from her body like she’d burned him. His chest heaved, his face stricken—not with anger, but with hurt.

  Deep, raw hurt.

  The silence that followed was unbearable. The engine’s hum filled the space again, steady and cold, but her own pulse roared louder.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered in a broken voice. “I didn’t—”

  She still sat atop him, watching as his face contorted in tortured agony—a prisoner within his own skin. She could feel his anguish—his yearning for physical connection and how impossible it felt to achieve.

  He screamed.

  Not the god—he had locked the Aether Dust away.

  But the man was falling apart.

  Tears streamed down his face and he shook with sobs. She felt through the mental link his desire to self-isolate.

  “Just leave me alone,” he said, voice shuddering.

  “No.” She leaned forward, her hands bracing against the floor on each side of his head.

  “Leave!”

  “No!” Aurania wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself tight as he continued to cry. “Just let it all out.”

  And he did.

  He cried the tears of a man alone for 8,000 years. Every connection he’d ever known was gone. She felt his fear of losing any new ones he formed. She felt it all, sensed every thought, and let every tear soak into her chest as he sobbed like a man completely undone.

  Aurania petted his head, ran fingers through his hair, and let him take comfort in her presence in any way she could.

  But she would not leave him alone.

  She didn’t know how long she held him.

  Minutes, hours—time lost meaning in the rhythm of his sobs against her chest, the shudder of his breath, the way his massive frame curled inward like he was trying to make himself small. She had seen him endure hell no one else would survive, crush soldiers and bend reality to his will. But now he was just a boy with too much carved into his soul, unraveling in her arms.

  When the storm finally ebbed, he slumped against her, boneless and spent. His face was wet, his breath ragged, but the raw edge of his anguish had dulled into something quieter.

  Exhaustion.

  He lay still beneath her, his breath still hitching in ragged pulls, the storm inside him finally spent. The tears had stopped, but the raw, aching grief remained. Aurania didn't move. She just held him, her chin resting on the top of his head. She felt the moment his shame began to curdle into apology, the words forming in his mind before he could speak.

  "Don't.” She tightened her grip. “Don't you dare apologize. Not for this."

  He was quiet, but she felt the question in his mind.

  Why?

  She pulled back, just enough to look him in the eyes, her own still shimmering with unshed tears. Her thumb brushed a stray tear from his cheek. “You didn’t fail. You stopped when I told you. You honored the boundary—the safe word you set. That’s control, Soren. That’s progress.”

  His throat worked, but no words came. Just a faint nod, his gaze flickering between her eyes as if searching for some proof that she wasn’t lying.

  She leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead—a promise sealed in the quiet aftermath. "We'll figure it out. Together."

  He whimpered—a small, broken noise.

  But he nodded.

  She crawled off of him slowly, then stood, extending a hand out to help him up.

  When he was on his feet, she asked firmly, “Do you want to have sex with me? Or do you want to be physically close to me?”

  He looked timid. Sheepish. But then his boyish, awkward charm poked through. “Both would be nice.”

  She couldn’t help but smile.

  Aurania grabbed him by the hand and turned to lead him from the engine room.

  “Where are we going?” he asked in a small voice.

  “To take a bath. Together.”