Chapter 85: An Anchor in the Storm

The bed jostled, nudging me awake. A second later, I felt a too-warm body slipping in under the covers next to me. Shivai’s silky tail wrapped over the front of my legs, and a small, horned head rested on my chest.

"Where were you?"

I squinted, my eyes still filled with the heavy sleep of a well-earned midday nap. My limbs ached, pulsing with discomfort. It was well earned. A hangover mixed with sprints, swordfights, and firebreathing. My mouth felt drier than a rural Utah county.

Shivai adjusted the covers over herself. The mattress was still slowly settling under her svelte form.

Until now, I’d thought she was asleep next to me. We’d come in to lie down at the same time. The heavy lull after morning service had brought utter exhaustion with it. Wynnie said she was too wired to nap, but she shooed me and Shivai off to catch a few hours of sleep. I’d crashed almost immediately. The succubus’s graceful return came as a surprise.

She snuggled in. "I couldn't sleep."

For a few seconds, she left it at that. Our breathing synced, and our bodies settled together. Light streamed in from outside, bright and glaring. The curtains always left cracks for the sun to get through.

I rubbed my eyes. I had no idea how long I'd been out, but it couldn't have been more than a few hours.

"Did you go out and help Wynnie with the guests?"

"No. Never left the room. I just kind of sat on the side of the bed. I was trying to decide what to do."

"What do you mean?"

"My instincts are telling me to run. That's what I've been doing for the last decade or more. It's kept me alive."

"You were going to leave?"

"I thought about it. Even packed some of my things." She nodded toward a small sack in the corner of the room. "But I just... I just couldn't do it."

It wasn’t much. More than a bindle, but not so much that she’d have to check the bag if she wanted to fly. Everything she owned—or at least, everything she needed—fit into one faded leather pack.

I didn’t even have to pick it up to know it was light. She could be on her way to Northridge by now, and her shoulders wouldn’t even feel the strain.

And yet, as light as it was, the weight of the pack hit me full force.

"Tired of running?"

"Not exactly. It's just that every time before, I wasn't leaving anything behind. This time is different."

Her words came warm against my chest as her lips smeared their confession.

I had a few guesses as to what she meant. I started with the lowest-stakes one.

"This time you actually have an honest job?"

She drummed her fingers on my pecs, then scratched lightly. "I mean, sure. That helps."

"And people you'd call friends?"

Another small circle drawn with her fingernail against my skin. "Well, that's been nice, too. Wouldn't want to miss that."

I glanced over at the pack again. Her whole world was in there. And yet it remained in the corner, and she’d never left the room.

Something in here was anchoring her.

Finally, I ventured my third guess. I was really hoping I wouldn't sound like an idiot for saying it.

"Is it me? I mean, am I the thing you don’t want to leave behind?"

The hand that had been playing on my chest moved up to my cheek, cradling my face. She squirmed up against me and held me close. The hot, sweet kiss of her breath brushed over my chin.

Barely a second passed, but it felt like an eternity. Shivai’s small body trembled in my arms. I held her even tighter, in part to calm her, and in part to keep her from bolting.

She calmed. Her half-lidded eyes met mine, and she whispered a vulnerable, breathy admission.

"Yes. It's you."

Her mouth met mine. She kissed me as though it were a question—soft and open-ended, inviting a response she knew in her heart but could hardly believe.

I needed to help her understand. Whatever this was, it was real. Whatever her question, I had the answer.

I kissed her back. Not hard, but confident. Every doubt she'd left unspoken died on her lips as our tongues spoke their own language. A rather physical language, at that. The crush of her petal-soft lips against mine stirred me to life.

And her scent. Floral. Infernal. The slight musk in her already tousled hair, still redolent of smoke and rainfall. I buried my nose in her as I kissed a trail up her neck and nibbled at a sharp ear.

Although Shivai matched my energy, it felt like she was holding back. She didn't seem scared or nervous. Rather, it was as though she was taking my cue like a dancer asking to be led.

For someone who took charge so readily on her own, she was a follower here. This woman could talk a man out of his hat with a smile. A charged look could empty a pocketbook without hesitation. She’d called her own shots her entire life. The responsibility had to be draining.

The least I could do was lead her now. She’d earned the rest.

Steadily, I guided her hand down to where she'd find my answer. She let out a soft "oh," fingers tracing my growing outline through my pants.

Already, her breathing came faster and less even. One stiff horn pressed into my shoulder, grinding on my clavicle like bone against bone. She lifted a leg and rested it on mine as though climbing me.

With slow touches over the fabric, she teased at me. Her fingers barely touched, almost reverent. Yet their feverish intensity grew, unable to be contained.

"I... I wish I could do more," she whispered.

"Wait, what? Why do you have to stop?"

"I just feel uncomfortable with showing everything. It's okay if some people watch," she said, breaking the fourth wall and making eye contact with SH and RR readers, "but unscrupulous ne'er-do-wells might record all this and distribute it to who-knows-who!"

I scratched my chin, unsure what she was talking about. "Someone would record this?"

"Pirates! Pirates might steal this and put it on a pirate website!"

"Ah, yes. Pirates are total dicks," I agreed. "And anyone who supports the piracy of independent creator content is also a dick. Especially given that our story is already free."

"Anyway," Shivai purred, still softly stroking, "If we keep the sexy scenes from getting pirated, we don't have any many hurdles when it comes time to publish. Amazon's rules are strange, but as long as it's 10% different, they treat it as legally distinct. So, no smut here."

"What about Patreon?" I asked.

"Oh, that's fair game. If pirates want to pay for NSFW chapters, let them."

Now she was sounding sensible again. "I'm sure there are other loopholes. Like mentioning that this was originally published by JD Jackson on multiple websites before it showed up on pirate sites. That's probably a decent loophole."

Shivai giggled. "And speaking of holes, where we were?"

She slid her nimble fingers beneath my waistband.

[Sorry about that. It's my anti-piracy watermark and Patreon CTA all in one. And this is where I urge you to use your imagination about how much they love each other.]

We collapsed together, contented, still connected.

She let out a long, contented sigh.

"I'm glad I chose to stay."

"Me too." I kissed her on the forehead, right between the horns. "Me too."

A light knock came from the door. A few beats later, Wynnie peeked her head in. She beamed at us with an approving smile.

Then she blinked a few times, remembering whatever it was she'd come in to say before her interruption.

"There are some people here to see you." She paused, thinking about it. "A lot of people, actually. Were you expecting company?"