Page 44 of What Beats Within the Tunnels

“This is one of my favorites,” he says, but I can think of something better to talk about than the wine.

“Have you ever been in love?” My question momentarily flummoxes him, evident as he nearly chokes on his wine.

Regaining his composure, he meets my gaze. “Once...a very long time ago,” he admits.

His revelation tugs at something inside me, an unexpected flare of emotion I struggle to label. Jealousy? It seems ridiculous, especially considering his lengthy existence. I chastise myself for this irrational reaction. I’m being overly hypocritical right now.

“I suppose I don’t need to ask you the same, considering I already know the answer,” he murmurs, drawing me out of my inner turmoil.

I contemplate his statement, my emotions swirling. Did I love Nyx? I think I did, but I’m beginning to wonder if I even know what love feels like. With all the chaos and transformations of the past year, I feel like a stranger to myself. The naive girl confined within Tempest Moon’s castle walls feels like a distant memory. Can that heart, which feels so shielded and hardened now, still hold love?

He interrupts my introspection, his voice soft. “What’s on your mind?”

I quickly ensure my mental shields are up, hoping I’m not projecting too much, and they are. His question must be born out of curiosity. Taking a deep breath, I confide, “I’m not sure if I ever truly loved Nyx. And now I’m questioning if I’m even capable of love.” My confession is followed by another sip of wine, hoping the liquid might drown my mounting uncertainties.

“Everyone is capable of love, Lyra. If you’re unsure about your feelings for Nyx, perhaps you’ve yet to experience true love. When you do, it’s unmistakable. Given all you’ve endured, it’s only natural for your heart to be more protective now. The right man will understand that, and he’ll be patient in earning his way in.”

He offers this with a knowing look, and I’m tempted to ask about his own past love. Yet I hesitate, fearing the answer. Instead, I playfully challenge, “So, you believe you’re that right man?”

His eyes glow a vibrant green. “Only time will tell, my shadow,” he quips with a wink. I can’t help but laugh at what’s becoming his favorite pet name for me.

As Colton begins clearing our plates, a long yawn stretches from my lips. “Let’s get to bed. Today has been exhausting,” he suggests, his voice gentle. I nod, fatigue evident in my every movement, and together we leave the dining room.

“Should we wake Chepi?” he asks, nodding toward where he sleeps beside the fire.

“Let him be,” I reply softly, my steps drawing me to the staircase. “He knows where to find me.”

“Goodnight, Lyra,” Colton mutters as he continues down the hallway.

I whisper, “Night,” in return before slipping into my chamber. The bedding welcomes me, its luxurious softness contrasting with the unease growing inside. It’s been months since I’ve slept alone, months since the last time the bed beside me was cold. Why doesn’t Colton wish to join me tonight? Maybe he misses having his own space and I’m overthinking it?

I turn onto my side, staring out the expansive windows. The stars look so dreamy tonight decorating the inky night sky. I try to fall asleep, but my mind remains restless, thinking about last night with Colton. The progression of our relationship seemed clear. He said he didn’t want to be just friends, he spoke of deeper feelings and hints of possessiveness, yet I’m alone in bed.

Was my admission — that I might be incapable of love — too much? Doubt grows. The bond I share with Colton is undeniable, an intensity beyond mere friendship. His presence fills the hollow spaces of my heart, spaces that have taken so long to mend.

I can’t and won’t replicate past mistakes. With Nyx, I lost myself. With Colton, I wish to stand my ground, to guard my heart while exploring the depths of what we might become. It’s probably a good thing we have separate rooms now and take things slow.

But why do I feel as if a piece of me is absent without him here? Perhaps it’s the new tether between us. I close my eyes, searching for our link. It’s strange to feel such a tangible pull toward someone else. Since I can’t sense any strong emotions from him right now, he’s either still awake and shielding me or simply not feeling anything intense enough for me to detect.

Restlessness takes over. I throw back the covers and leave my bed. I need to understand why he chose not to sleep beside me, and instead of spending the entire night wondering I decide to find him and ask. He never showed me his room, but the floor above isn’t extensive. Guided by the pull in my chest, I approach the door I’m certain he’s behind. I pause, straining to hear any sounds, but there’s only silence. I push the door open gently. The room is shrouded in darkness, and from what I can make out his bed hasn’t been slept in. A muted glow illuminates the edges of another door, likely his bathing chamber, accompanied by the hushed sound of running water.

Peeking through a slight opening, I see he’s in the shower. The steam fogs the glass, and the soft light from the candles flickers, disrupted by the humid air. I can’t clearly see him, but I know he’s in there. Showers are a luxury I’ve only experienced a few times in my life. Most people settle for bathtubs. However, after marrying my mother, Silas had one installed, and I sneaked in a few times when they were away on business.

The urge to join him is powerful. But even as I worry he might not want me there, I can’t resist. I shed the tunic and inch open the misty glass door. A dense cloud of steam spills out, drawing Colton’s immediate attention. His eyes lock onto me, a hungry intensity in them, and I involuntarily bite my lower lip as I appreciate the full view of him. Water cascades over his toned muscles, and my gaze travels downward, noting his undeniable arousal. His glowing eyes roam over me, exuding a desire that sends a warmth through my entire being.

I hesitate momentarily at the entrance to the expansive shower, which is almost like a room in itself. Yet, without uttering a word, Colton bridges the gap between us. He pulls me flush against him, one arm anchoring around my lower back while the other gathers my hair, tilting my head to face him. As he leans down, our eyes remain locked until the final moment, when his lips softly meet mine.

Yielding to the sensation, I push my tongue into his mouth, savoring his taste. My arms circle his neck, deepening our kiss. Water cascades around us, enveloping us in its warmth. Colton’s grip on me intensifies, his hands firmly cradling my waist now, guiding me to a corner of the shower without ever letting our lips part. The backs of my legs make contact with a bench, and, breaking our kiss momentarily, he gently guides me to sit.

I can’t help but watch intently as he kneels before me. He takes one of my breasts, letting his tongue tease over my nipple. His other hand journeys, tracing each curve and contour of my body, igniting a trail of goosebumps wherever he goes. Releasing my breast, he grabs my hips, pulling me to the edge. Leaning back, the warm tiles press against my spine, providing contrast to the streaming water. My legs part naturally, leaving me vulnerable, completely exposed to him. Any hint of self-consciousness dissipates.

The bond between us and the depth of his gaze make me feel safe.

He regards me through sultry, half-lidded eyes then slowly lowers his mouth. I can’t suppress a sharp intake of breath when his tongue ventures into the most intimate part of me. I weave my fingers through his wet hair, involuntarily arching my hips off the bench as waves of pleasure surge within me. He stabilizes my movements, his hands strong and sure on my hips, anchoring me to the bench as he thoroughly explores every intimate crevice. Every stroke of his tongue, every subtle suck, draws moans and cries from deep within me. I can’t hold back, nor do I want to.

He slides a finger inside me, and an involuntary sigh escapes my lips. My head tilts back, resting against the damp tiles, as I willingly yield to his touch. Another finger joins the first, stretching and filling me, their rhythmic thrusts synchronized perfectly with the teasing circling of his tongue on my most sensitive nub.

I can feel the crescendo of pleasure building, threatening to overwhelm me. His fingers delve deeper, while his tongue seems innately attuned to every quiver of my body. I’m on the precipice, teetering, and with one final concerted effort from him I’m falling over the edge. Sounds I didn’t know I could make spill forth, my legs quaking from the sheer intensity of the release.