CHAPTER 351: REUNION

Reunion

From the darkness of the forest’s shaded core, a single figure forced through the shroud of shadows. The night’s silence curved around him, dense but electric, as if the universe itself were holding its breath. Leon emerged into the soft illumination, and his eyes glowed like fiery molten metal, shining through the veiled gloom. They seethed with hunger and relief both, a contradiction etched in brilliance. His lips curled slowly into a smile, wide and unbridled, with the loads of emotions that hammered on his chest until his breath was rough and sharp.

"Finally..." His voice was rumbling low, growl more than whisper, but beneath that feral growl was left tenderness. The sound vibrated in the air, promise contained within his yearning. His smile grew deeper, warmth permeating the hunger. "You come, my love."

The words traveled far, slicing through the quiet of the forest glade, striking home. At the treeline’s edge, silhouetted against moonlight and shadows, stood the one he had waited for—Nova.

Her hair, pulled back into a high ponytail, moved with each calculated step. It glinted like ink against the pale light, wild as she was. Her attire was plain—a pair of snug leather pants and an open white shirt—but the manner in which she carried it made plain wicked. The shirt clung slightly to her figure where her chest was heaving, the rise and fall of her breasts accompanying shallow breaths that showed how desperately she had run. Or maybe, not the woods that had winded her but him. Her green eyes blazed with vivid intensity on his figure, fierce with flame but soft with shaking, as if something within her walls had shattered.

Leon’s voice called to her, every syllable ringing within her breast. Her lips trembled before curving into the tiniest of smiles—tremulous, uncertain, but very much genuine.

He didn’t bridge the space. He stood firm, unmoving, arms outstretched in welcome. His naked chest was exposed not just to the night but to her, his voice weighed down by all he had borne.

"Come."

The command wasn’t crisp—it was raw, a plea tempered by strength. And Nova knew in an instant. Whatever reserve she had held onto snapped with that one word. A ferocious smile danced over her lips, and without another beat of hesitation, she sprinted headlong. Her legs sliced across the ground with lethal elegance, every step consuming the distance—not as a warrior charging to war, but as a woman hurling herself into the only place she could call home.

She crashed into him with such power it almost knocked the breath from his lungs. The impact sent him stumbling back over the dirt, his boots scuffling deep furrows into the ground as he fought for traction. But his grip never slipped. His arms encircled her like steel, pinning her against him with a desperation that left no room between their bodies.

Leon shuddered. His muscles, normally immovable, shuddered with the tempest of feelings tearing him apart. His breath caught at her hair, every intake submerged in her perfume, every output pouring into her heat. But his smile never wavered—it only grew broader, more savage, more alive.

Leon shuddered, although the contour of his mouth only stretched wider into a deeper smile.

Nova didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she buried her face in his chest, pushing herself into him as if she was afraid he would disappear if she ever released him. Her arms wrapped around his waist tightly, her body pressing against his with a frantic urgency, as if she wished to become part of his very essence. She sent warm breath wafting through his shirt before her words burst out in a soft rush, shuddering against the fabric.

"I missed you..."

Her voice was delicate, stripped of the steel everyone was used to. Her hold only grew stronger, her cheek pressing warmly into his chest as if contact alone could demonstrate he was real.

"I really missed you, Leon."

Her shattering voice reached him. She thrust her face deeper against him, her cheek once more passing the heat of his chest repeatedly, as if a famished woman who had at last discovered her food.

Leon stood still, his gold eyes expanding. Nova—the Duchess of Blackthrone, the icy blade no one dared get close to, the iron-hard commander feared and admired throughout kingdoms—was here, breaking down in his arms. She was not supposed to break. She was not supposed to dissolve. And yet she shook in his arms, holding on like someone afraid of being left behind. Seeing her thus was debilitating, almost excruciatingly tender.

If anyone else had seen this moment, they wouldn’t have believed it. The woman renowned for her perfect control was shaking against him like a girl deprived of her defenses—delicate, desperate, and heartbreakingly cute.

His chest constricted, wrestling between the need to laugh and to cry. His body trembled more violently, not from weakness but from joy so intense it all but suffocated him. He had always looked up to her strength, yet this—this hidden weakness—was a holy offering made only to him. And gods, he treasured it. Each shaking breath, each frantic grasp of her hands, was a jewel he would not trade for anything.

He lowered his head, squeezing tight enough to make his arms encircle her like steel. His lips caressed her hair, and his voice escaped on a deep, husky whisper, weighed down with love.

"I missed you too, wifey... more than I can ever tell."

He squeezed her closer, as if if he held her close enough, time itself would warp, making the long days apart disappear.

Nova’s breath hitched, then let out in a quiet, shaking sigh. She didn’t lift her eyes. She instead rubbed her cheek against his chest once more, eyelids closing as she relaxed into the heat spreading through her. Peace washed over her in waves—unfamiliar but undeniable. Each soft brush of her lips against his shirt, each sniff of his smell, pulled her further into an unfamiliar calm she couldn’t describe.

The instant she had seen him there, that attraction had taken hold of her again. It was not new. It had pursued her for years, a constant leash she had fought against, straining against with discipline and sheer determination. But no matter how much effort she made, she always lost. Leon was like a forbidden sweetness—addictive, devouring. He was poison she ached to swallow, a flame she couldn’t resist touching, a deadly flower she wanted to swallow whole.

And today... she didn’t struggle at all.

She wasn’t Nova the Duchess. She wasn’t the incorruptible general. She was just Nova—the woman, the mistress, the one consumed utterly by him.

Leon sensed her capitulation in the manner her body dissolved against him. His mouth twisted slightly, pride and gentleness blending in equal proportions. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, as she held on to him with a ferocity that made nothing else matter.

The world came to a stop for a heartbeat.

And the stillness broke.

Deep in the woods, a roar ripped through the silence—guttural, feral, a sound that shattered the trees. The noise tore through the woodlands, savage enough to shake the ground.

ROOOAAARRR!

The woods rent with a deafening bellow, a noise so deep it rumbled the earth itself. Trees shook, leaves were scattered in a mad dance, and the resonance thundered through the valley like the snarl of some long-forgotten deity.

Nova’s eyes flew open, bright green shining as she sat up from the heat of Leon’s chest. She remained against him, refusing to budge, the thudding beat of his heart keeping her grounded. That steady cadence soothed her, but the intrusion tugged at her nerves nonetheless.

"Really..." she growled, glaring into his shirt. Anger seared across her face, jaw clenching as if she could stomp the roar itself quiet. Their hard-won peace had been shattered in a heartbeat, and it hurt. For one crazy, insane moment, she even considered: if she ever laid eyes on that monster, she’d flay its hide, cook its meat, and hold a fine feast to get even for taking this moment away.

The thought embarrassed her almost as soon as it came. That wasn’t who she was—or at least, not who she was supposed to be. She had trained herself to stay composed, elegant, always in control. Not clinging. Not desperate. Certainly not trembling like a woman afraid to lose the warmth she’d found.

And yet she stood there. Betrayed by her own heart, pressed against him as if she were a girl besotted by her first fix of love. She knew she was losing at the game of maintaining her mask, but for once, she really didn’t care.

Leon sensed it—the tension in her body, the tempest bottled up in her silence. His lips twisted into a lopsided smile. He leaned his head down until his breath caressed her ear, his voice low, taunting, inflected with desire that pulsed below each word.

"My love... if you continue to hold me like that, I may lose my grip. I may very well toss you to the ground here and wipe out this desire all at once."

Her entire body shook, the response escaping her before she could contain it. It wasn’t fear that coursed through her blood—it was anticipation, and it was bittersweet. Her breath caught within her throat, and warmth crawled up her cheeks until she wondered if her face would burn.

Slowly, reluctantly, she drew back far enough to glimpse him. His hand remained firm on her waist, holding on to her with a silent certainty, not releasing. Their eyes met, gold and green—an unspoken war, fierce and tender all at the same time. Predator and prey. Beloved and lover. Two halves consumed by the same flames.

Gold and green—storm and fire—fierce and fragile, predator and prey, and somehow both.

The world around them melted away, leaving only the tension between two souls that had danced around each other too long. Leon inched forward, the wicked smile of his lips dissipating, replaced by something more primal, hungrier, and more deadly. Nova’s eyelashes dropped, shadows quivering over her cheeks. Her breath caught, and with a silent acquiescence she closed her eyes, steeling herself for what she knew was coming.

Her lips parted, the barest quiver revealing nerves and longing in equal measure. And then, at last, their lips touched.

The initial contact was tentative—slow, tentative, like a long-hidden secret breathed out after so many years of discipline. Leon kissed her softly, his lips against hers like a deep ache, tasting the warm softness that had tormented his every waking moment. Nova shifted her head in response, fitting into the kiss as though discovering once more what her body had never lost.

But restraint was not enough to last.

The kiss shattered open, hot and wild. Hunger rolled, and the years they had spent suppressing this force tore apart in a single brutal moment. Leon’s lips crashed into hers, hot and demanding, and Nova met him with equal fervor, no less desperate. His hand entwined in her dark hair, fingers closing as if he might lose her.

Her lips quivered under his passion, but she didn’t withdraw. Instead, she nipped gently at his mouth, sating his hunger with hers. He nipped her lower lip, pulling, sucking, drinking in the sweetness he had deprived himself of. She countered by taking his upper lip, giving back his fire with the same kind of passion. Their breathing shattered against each other, shallow and ragged, each gasp containing need.

Leon’s tongue sparred with the seam of her mouth, impatient, insisting on entry. Nova gave way without reluctance. Their tongues met—hot, fervent, knotted in a rhythm that was no longer fight or caress, but somehow both. It was intoxicating, a trading of fire and gentleness, heat and pain, neither wanting to release.

Her hands wandered upward, gliding over the rigid lines of his chest, holding his shirt in a grasp so frayed it seemed to pull cloth apart. His hold on her waist grew tighter, fingers biting into her curves, pushing her against him as if he could hold her to the moment itself.

The kiss became harsher, desperate, a pouring out of all they had restrained—relief, lust, pain, love—spun into a storm that neither could hold. Each taste, each touch of lips and tongue, etched itself into memory like fire searing flesh.

Time warped and curved, every moment an eternity, holy. For them, nothing else mattered. No forest. No shadows. No destiny waiting to consume them.

All that existed was the devouring fire of two mouths meeting, consuming each other with a hunger so fundamental it could never be shattered.

Neither of them cared.

The kiss engulfed them, drowning out all thought, until nothing was left—only him, only her, only this.