The night had long since settled over the Vale estate, a velvet darkness broken only by the soft glow of the moon.
Inside their room, Aren and Selene stood by the open terrace doors, the cool night breeze brushing against their skin.
The air between them was heavy — not with tension, but with something far older, deeper.
A yearning that had waited too long.
Aren's golden eyes never left her.
Not even as he set his glass down with a soft clink.
Selene smiled — a tender, knowing thing — and stepped closer.
He caught her hand, pulling her gently against him, his fingers tracing the familiar curve of her waist as if memorizing her all over again.
Time had touched her only in memories.
Her body remained as vibrant and breathtaking as the day they first met — her beauty preserved by his own hands, by the powers he had poured into her over the years, refusing to let anything steal her away from him.
"Selene," he murmured, voice low, rough.
She reached up, her fingers threading into his raven hair.
That was all the invitation he needed.
The dam inside him broke.
He kissed her — fiercely, hungrily — as if to make up for every night he had returned too late, every moment duty had stolen from them.
And she answered him with just as much need, her arms wrapping tightly around him, grounding him to the only thing that had ever truly mattered.
The fire that ignited between them was not new.
It was ancient — forged through battles fought side by side, children raised, silent nights spent yearning for touch they couldn't afford.
Hands roamed.
Clothes fell away.
There were no walls between them anymore — no Grand Duke, no Lady of the House — only a man and a woman rediscovering what it meant to belong wholly to each other.
Their bodies moved with a desperate sort of reverence, each kiss, each caress filled with gratitude, apology, longing.
They clung to each other through gasps and whispered names, through trembling hands and tear-soaked kisses.
For the first time in years, they allowed themselves to be selfish — to take, and give, and drown in the kind of love that once built empires and toppled gods.
When it was over, when the fever of the storm had passed, Aren pulled her against his chest, burying his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of her like it was air he couldn't live without.
Selene smiled sleepily against him, her fingers drawing idle patterns over the scarred skin of his chest.
"You," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his heart, "are finally home."
He held her tighter, saying nothing — because words could never capture what it meant to him.
The night stretched on, filled only with the sound of their breathing, their heartbeats slowly syncing into one.
Aren drifted into sleep like that — tangled with the woman who had waited for him, fought for him, loved him — through everything.
And for the first time in what felt like forever...
his dreams were peaceful.