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  "I trust you."

  The words lingered in the air between them, heavier than gravity. Soren let out a slow breath, pulled her back up to standing, and stepped behind her. From a side table, her retrieved a long coil of purple silk rope. The strands gleamed in the dim cabin light, smooth and strong, meant for restraint without harm.

  “Arms,” he said gently.

  Aurania hesitated only a moment before crossing her forearms in the small of her back. She was breathing harder now, though not from exertion. When he looped the silk around her wrists, she flinched at the first touch, then steadied, her chin tilting proudly upward.

  He wrapped the silk slowly, several tight layers binding her forearms together, the padded softness biting nothing into her skin. Each knot was neat and practiced.

  “Too tight?” he asked.

  She tested the give, muscles flexing against the rope, but the silk held firm. “No.”

  Satisfied, he let the end of the rope drop, moving to the other side of the room. Aurania stayed standing, keeping her back to him and maintaining composure.

  Until she heard the chain.

  She whipped around, looking over her shoulder. The chain was massive—the metal links almost as big as the ones she used to bind him the first time they met. Her eyes went wide.

  But not from fear.

  Soren secured the end of the chain to a metal loop jutting from the wall—a simple thing he had requested from the evolving ship. He held the chain up and began walking back around the bed, the links faintly clinking as he moved. He pulled it across the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

  When he got to her, he looked down at her arms. The chain was deliberately measured, and he tied the end of the rope through the final link, looping it multiple times to make sure it could hold up.

  When he was done, Soren walked around in front of her. He took several steps back, held up one finger, and beckoned her forth.

  “Come.”

  Her nostrils flared.

  She took a step forward, and the chain pulled taut.

  Soren leaned to the side, observing the chain’s tension. He looked back at her. “I said come. Like you mean it.”

  Her gaze grew darker, and she tried to lunge—

  The chain slammed against her might, holding fast.

  Soren smirked. “Good.”

  He finally stepped toward her, one hand coming up and gently grasping her jaw. He gazed fiercely into her eyes. His other hand traced gently down one shoulder, making her shiver. It came to rest on her ribs, where the tie of her upper robes held tight.

  He waited silently for permission.

  She finally nodded, exaggerating a little to be clear, because she had started to shake.

  He pulled the tie loose.

  The knot came undone with a whisper of cloth.

  He’d seen her laid bare before—glimpses here and there, it wasn’t her way to cover herself up. And more recently, they’d bathed together.

  But this was different.

  The top of her robe slid away and Soren intentionally saw her fully revealed.

  She wasn’t built like any human woman. She was more. Bronze skin, muscles thick enough to crack stone, and layered with curves so generous it almost defied sense. Her chest, unbound now, fell heavy and proud—so impossibly full, the size of her breasts seemed to defy gravity. Every rise of her breath made them slowly shift, demanding reverence as much as they stirred hunger.

  The pheromones were dulled by the bitter tea, but the dark oval around her stiff peaks held his gaze so hard he felt like his mouth was trying to draw in like a magnet. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he steadied himself.

  When he opened them again, his eyes traced down over her abdomen—not lean and sharp, but broad and dense, every line of her body radiating power. Her waist narrowed just enough to exaggerate the sweep of her hips, which flared outward into a shape that seemed designed to draw the eye—to promise life itself. The thin gold chain at her belt glinted as it slid against her skin, the long panels of cloth parting just enough to frame the vast strength of her thighs.

  Soren swallowed hard. She was an apex predator, a living weapon, a warmaiden carved for battle—and yet standing before him now, chained and trembling, she was also something else. A goddess of flesh—carved from the stars.

  And she had given him permission to touch her.

  He met her eyes, and his hand reached out to where the thin gold chain was clasped. With a flick of his fingers, it came undone—the robes forgotten before they hit the floor.

  She swallowed.

  He stepped beside her, taking up the weight of the chain with one hand. He gently placed the other on her abdomen, just under the heavy swell of her breasts.

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  She nearly gasped at the touch.

  Soren pushed her back until the bed met the back of her legs, then guided her to sitting. He had to be careful not to press their bodies too close together or he feared it would be too hard for him to resist.

  He lifted the chain out, pulling the slack across the bed and guiding her down onto her back. Her arms bound behind her caused her chest to arch upward in a posture that was equal parts vulnerable and regal. Her legs shifted instinctively, thighs tense, and he gently ran a hand along one, a comforting, grounding motion for both of them.

  “Stay,” he quietly ordered, though they both knew she had no choice now.

  Her eyes burned into him, equal parts defiance and surrender. He stood up, walked around to stand by her head, and hooked the chain’s slack on a wall hook.

  She gazed up at him, trembling, scared, and excited.

  Soren leaned down slowly, moving almost like he was going to kiss her. He moved instead so his eyes lingered a couple short inches away from hers, gazing into them and focusing on their mental link.

  “How do you feel?” he whispered.

  Her breathing grew sharp, and she didn’t answer with words. But she nodded several times—quick, fast motions.

  Soren’s hands came up and braced on each side of her shoulders.

  He placed a kiss on her collarbone and she gasped.

  He moved lower.

  The next time his mouth touched her, he was halfway to her sternum. He lingered there for just a moment. Then he pressed his tongue to her skin, and slowly ran it down one breast, heading toward the tip.

  Her back arched as he moved.

  It took every ounce of willpower he had to not move faster. Her soft swell was inviting him like nothing he’d ever experienced, and when he finally reached it, his head dropped down, taking the entire nipple into his mouth like a man dying of hunger.

  Aurania cried out.

  The sound reverberated through the cabin, sharp and guttural, and for a moment Soren felt her whole body strain against the bindings. The chain rattled, her muscles flexing as if she might tear free. Then she stilled—shuddering breaths breaking into ragged gasps.

  His lips sealed firm around her peak, tongue drawing long, deliberate strokes across the stiffened flesh until her cry dissolved into a low growl in the back of her throat. He felt himself swell, but he forced himself to ignore it, focusing only on her.

  Every instinct screamed to lose himself—to take, to bite, to drown. The pheromones clawed at him, demanding release. But he forced the hunger down.

  Worship.

  The word echoed in his skull like a vow.

  He released her breast with a soft pop, strands of saliva catching in the dim light, and moved over to latch onto the other. He placed one hand on her abdomen, holding her steady with his entire forearm as his mouth drew in the dark, inviting skin.

  It was one of the most intoxicating tastes he’d ever experienced.

  “Fffuck—” she growled.

  She continued to squirm beneath him as his tongue circled, mouth applying firm suction. Finally, he released—another wet pop as he rose up. He could have wiped his mouth, but he intentionally let the thick strand stretch as far as possible. He stood up, eyes locking on hers, and slowly moved around the bed.

  Her eyes were begging.

  When he came up at the edge of the bed, still completely dressed, she opened her legs willingly.

  The scent of her hit him like a brick wall—rich, primal, impossible to ignore. His breath shook. His eyes were drawn to her soft folds, it felt impossible to rip them away.

  Soren took a deep breath.

  He had to close his eyes and take a step back. For a split second, she almost seemed scared—worried that it wasn’t going to work. But he opened his eyes, and he was looking right into hers.

  “I’m here,” Soren said. Then he smirked. “To worship.”

  Her expression broke again and she bit her lip.

  He placed one hand on her knee and she flinched. She was more steady when he grabbed the other knee, but then he knelt down. He pressed his forehead to her thigh, just inside her knee, and took a moment to ground himself.

  Then his mouth made contact.

  The soft flesh inside her thigh tasted like salt and heat, sweat rolling across bronze skin that flexed and trembled beneath his tongue. Gently, gradually, he kissed closer and closer, moving along her thigh. She shook more with every touch. He pressed his forehead against her thigh again, grounding himself, before looking up into her eyes again.

  “Still with me?” he whispered.

  Aurania’s answer was a growl that broke into a laugh, ragged and breathless. “If you stop now, I will kill you.”

  Soren smirked, the fire in his chest steadying. “That’s what we’re here for.”

  He wrapped a hand around each of her thighs, pulling them against the side of his head.

  Then he lowered his mouth to her.

  Aurania’s whole body bucked against the restraints, a sound like a gasping roar tearing out of her throat. The chain slammed where it attached to the wall, but it held fast. All she could do was writhe and endure as Soren worshipped her like the goddess he’d named her.

  Her thighs squeezed against his head.

  He smiled at the pressure.

  As his tongue parted her folds with slow, reverent pressure, a taste filled his mouth like pure, liquid sin. He’d been warned of this—the pheromones were even stronger here. His senses flooded and he almost lost all control.

  Soren’s hands caressed her thighs, gripping harder, but he forced himself to focus. If he held too hard, he would injure her. He would not allow himself to do that.

  She was already close.

  Her hips bucked, hard—dragging a raw growl out of her throat. The chain clanged like the whole wall was at risk of giving way, but he only pressed his tongue deeper—long strokes ending with intense flicks. He ground a slow rhythm intent on worship rather than conquest.

  Aurania’s breath came ragged, broken into primal sounds and sharp gasps. Her legs clamped tighter, enough that most men would have been crushed—but Soren reveled in it, the bruising strength of her thighs only driving him further into his vow.

  He tightened his grip on her hips, not to pin, but to guide her—each thrust of her body met by steady, anchoring hands, forcing her to feel rather than thrash. His tongue worked her with unwavering precision, circling, stroking, dragging over the places that made her cry out instead of growl.

  “Soren—!” Her voice broke.

  He only hummed against her, the vibration shooting through her like a shockwave. That was enough to unravel the goddess, her whole body arching upward, every bound muscle straining, every vein in her neck taut as the climax ripped out of her like thunder.

  He wasn't sure how loud she got, all he could hear was happy flesh.

  Soren held her through it, mouth unrelenting, until the violent bucking of her hips faltered into tremors. Only then did he slow, dragging his tongue in one long, reverent stroke, finally lifting his head.

  His face glistened in the cabin light, and he could’ve wiped it away.

  He just smiled.

  Aurania collapsed back against the mattress, chest heaving, chains rattling with every quake of her breath. For the first time since he’d known her, she looked utterly undone.

  After a long moment, she gasped, “How do you feel? Are you still in control?”

  Soren closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. When he opened them again, he was once more staring her in the eyes. “I feel… like my fingers are much larger than they were the last time I did this.”

  He pressed the tip of one against the drowning entrance of her folds. Her eyes got wider, and she asked in an excited panic, “What are you doing?!”

  “That’s one,” Soren said, his finger pressing forward. He lowered his mouth, and tasted her anew.