the Vampires Beloved

Chapter10;All that Remains

Thorne pov

Silence used to frighten me.

Now, it wraps around us like a second skin—warm, alive, unafraid. Tavany sleeps beside me, her breath slow and even, one hand resting over my chest as if she belongs there.

Perhaps she does.

For the first time in centuries, my heart beats without the weight of ghosts. Marina is gone—not lost, but released. The ache is still there, but it’s clean, like a wound finally allowed to heal.

Tavany stirs, her lashes fluttering as she wakes. She doesn’t stiffen, doesn’t brace herself against the day the way she once did. Instead, she stretches like sunlight, slow and unguarded, her body pressing closer to mine.

“Hey,” she murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

I brush my thumb along her jaw. “Hey.”

There’s no hesitation when she kisses me. Just hunger, slow-burning and deep. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and a groan rumbles in my chest.

She tastes like warmth, like home.

Her hand slides down my side, nails scraping lightly over my ribs, and my breath hitches. Every touch is deliberate, every movement a question—Is this okay? Do you want this too?

My answer is in the way I grip her waist, rolling us until she’s beneath me, her legs parting instinctively. Her breath hitches as I press against her, the thin fabric of her sleep clothes doing nothing to hide the heat between us.

“Thorne,” she whispers, and my name on her lips is a plea, a prayer.

I kiss her again, deeper this time, my hands roaming—down her ribs, over her hips, beneath the hem of her shirt. Her skin is impossibly soft, and she arches into my touch with a gasp when my fingers graze the underside of her breast.

I want to take my time. I want to memorize every sigh, every shudder.

But she has other ideas.

With a growl, she flips us, straddling my hips with a wicked grin. Her hands push my shoulders into the mattress, her nails biting just enough to make my pulse spike.

“My turn,” she murmurs, leaning down to drag her teeth over my collarbone.

I groan, my hands tightening on her thighs as she grinds against me, the friction maddening. Her lips trail lower—my chest, my stomach, lower still—until her breath ghosts over the aching length of me, still trapped in my pants.

“Tavany—”

Her name comes out strangled as she finally frees me, her tongue flicking over the tip in a slow, teasing stroke. My hips jerk, and she hums in approval, taking me deeper, her mouth hot and perfect around me.

I fist the sheets, torn between wanting to savor this and needing more.

When I can’t take it anymore, I drag her up, kissing her hard as I slide a hand between her thighs. She’s wet, soaked, and the sound she makes when I press two fingers inside her nearly undoes me.

“f**k,” she gasps, rocking against my hand.

“Look at me,” I demand, and when her eyes meet mine—dark with pleasure, pupils blown wide—I curl my fingers just right.

She comes with a cry, her body clamping around me, her nails digging into my shoulders.

Before she’s even caught her breath, I flip her onto her back, sliding into her in one smooth thrust.

We both groan, the fit is perfect, and for a second, neither of us moves.

Then she rolls her hips.

“Move,” she whispers.

I do.

Slow at first, then deeper, harder, each stroke dragging her closer to the edge again. Her legs lock around my waist, pulling me in, her breath coming in ragged pants against my ear.

“I love you,” I grit out, my control fraying.

Her hand fists in my hair, dragging my mouth back to hers. “Show me.”

I do.

My thrusts turn punishing, driving her into the mattress, her moans muffled against my skin. When she shatters again, her muscles clenching around me, I follow her over, spilling into her with a groan.

We collapse together, sweat-slicked and breathless.

For a long moment, the only sound is our heartbeats, slowing in unison.

Tavany traces idle patterns on my chest, her head pillowed on my shoulder.

“Happy?” she teases.

I kiss her forehead. “Ecstatic.”

She laughs, and the sound is light, unburdened.

We stay like that, tangled together, the world outside forgotten.

For the first time in centuries, silence doesn’t mean emptiness.

It means peace.