My stomach quivers, heat arcing through me as they pull their shirts over their heads, dropping them to the floor. They’re both so beautiful—Damrion’s body a mountain of strength, Adriel’s a fortress of endurance. Damrion’s muscles speak to power, Adriel’s scars to survival. Every inch of them was carved from granite—hard, uncompromising, powerful.
Their pants hit the floor, their hard cocks springing free. Even those are beautiful. Damrion is long and thick, his balls heavy. Adriel is fierce, so thick I know he’s going to make my eyes water and my breath catch the first time he’s inside me.
I want them both in ways I can’t explain—in ways that leave me aching. But this isn’t about desire, not right now. It’s about us—about love, connection, and reaffirming the bond between us.
"Please," I whisper, reaching out for them.
They draw me back into their arms in an instant, pulling me toward the shower. Hot water cascades down on us, steam swirling around us. It eases the ache in my muscles, washing away the grime on my skin.
Adriel and Damrion pull me between them, our skin pressed together. They run their hands all over me, reverence in every touch and every gentle kiss. And with every touch and every press of their mouths to my skin, another of the stains the Forsaken left on my soul washes away.
“You’re so beautiful,” Damrion whispers, his golden eyes locked on mine as they tip my head back beneath the spray.
"We’re never letting you go," Adriel adds, tracing patterns across my abdomen. “Never, Abigail.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I lean into them, allowing them to stitch me back together again. They do—working together to wash every single trace of the Forsaken from my body and my soul.
Once I’m clean and the water runs cold, they pull me out of the shower. Damrion sinks to his knees at my feet, a plush towel in his hands. Adriel wraps another around my torso. They dry me gently, taking their time to remove every trace of water. They take less time to dry themselves before Damrion scoops me up into his arms, carrying me to his bed.
Adriel pulls the covers back, allowing Damrion to deposit me in the middle. Before I can even ask, they’re crawling in with me, sandwiching me between their powerful bodies. Not even an inch of space remains between us as they tangle us together, Adriel’s legs with mine, Damrion’s arms around us.
“Sleep, ást-meer,” Damrion croons, running his lips down the side of my face. “We’ll guard you.”
"Please," I beg, trying to press closer to them as a whisper of fear moves through me. Sleep never comes easy. How much worse will it be now? "Don't let me go."
"Never," Damrion promises.
“We’re right here, bittesmå ljós.” Adriel laces his fingers with mine as if to ground me in reality.
My eyes flutter closed, exhaustion and the warmth of their bodies, the strength of their love, and the fervor of their promise pulling me under.
Even with Damrion and Adriel pressed tightly to me, I sleep fitfully, half-formed dreams and visions flickering through my mind in an endless parade. As soon as I grasp for one, it fades away.
I toss and turn, seeking comfort in their arms.
When nightmares of the Forsaken come, I wake with a gasp, my heart pounding. For a moment, I think I’m back in the cavern—that being rescued was just a dream. But then I realize Adriel and Damrion are still here, their hands clasped together on my stomach as they sleep, holding me between them.
Tears well in my eyes as I stare at their hands—Damrion’s strong and golden, Adriel’s scarred and pale. They cling to one another in their sleep, holding each other as tightly as they do me.
I’ve wanted peace for them more than anything—I’ve prayed for it to any God I thought might listen. And they finally have it. After 2500 years, they’ve found their way back to one another. And in doing so, they found their way to me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, though I’m not entirely sure who I’m thanking. The Norns? Some power we don’t know? Adriel and Damrion themselves? I don’t know.
“Holding you is no hardship, little seer,” Adriel rumbles, his voice thick with sleep. He rolls toward me, his lips brushing my shoulder. “In fact, it feels like heaven.”
“Ja,” Damrion groans from my other side, pressing closer. “Very much like heaven.”
I glance to the right to see Adriel’s black eye on me, his gaze deep and intense. I turn my head to the left to see the same look in Damrion’s golden eyes.
My stomach quivers as I reach out, running my hand down the sides of their faces.
Adriel rolls halfway on top of me, his hair falling over me like a waterfall. Damrion moves at the same time, taking up a similar position. I’m pinned beneath their hard bodies, their faces looming above mine as they stare down at me.
An intense ache blooms deep in my chest and in my womb. I need them—their lips on mine, their hands on me.
“Kiss me,” I plead.
A growl rumbles from Adriel’s lips as he dips his head without reservation, claiming my mouth. His lips are soft and warm, his kiss gentle. He breaks away after a moment, making room for Damrion. His kiss is just as sweet, just as reverent.
They’re holding back, treating me like I’m breakable, as if what the Forsaken did to me somehow changed me or made me weak. It didn’t. And it didn’t make me need them any less.
I’ve waited for them since the moment I knew they existed. My whole life, I’ve dreamed of them—the two Fae who would become my whole world. Now, they’re finally here in my arms, and I’m not willing to wait another moment.
"Don't look at me like I’m glass," I beg, gripping them when they try to move away. "Don’t treat me like I’m breakable. I’m not. I need you. Both of you.”
“Abigail, bittesmå ljós,” Adriel murmurs. “You need—”
“Don’t tell me what I need, Adriel,” I growl at him. “Trust me to know what I need.” I press my hand to his heart. Cup Damrion’s cheek. “I need the two of you to make me yours in every way. Please.”
Still, they hesitate.
A surge of frustration bubbles through me. I know they feel the same thing I do—want the same thing I do. I feel their need throbbing through the bond. I feel it pressing hard and insistent against my hips.
If they can’t take what they need, then I will.
I sit up, forcing them backward. I scrabble to my knees as they watch, their expressions wary, their eyes locked on my face.
