A soft emerald light bloomed between her fingers, then spread like mist across Victor's body. Where it touched, wounds sealed and blood vanished.
The magic drained her; the room tilted sideways. Her knees buckled.
"Easy," Victor steadied her with strong hands. "I appreciate it, but you need to be careful with your strength."
Mere kilometers away, the city's scarred skyline rose like jagged teeth against the horizon.
Victor scooped Felicity into his arms without warning, his muscled chest warm against her side.
"You need to keep your strength up," he murmured, somehow producing a handful of dried berries from a pocket.
When she accepted one from his fingertips, their eyes locked, and for maybe the first time in memory, she smiled without reservation.
They continued toward the ruins, her perched in his arms, him feeding her one sweet morsel at a time, both ready for whatever the dawn would bring next.
They made camp again in the dry shell of what may have once been a children's playground, just enough of the bright plastic slides and upended swing sets remained to break the monotony of tangled underbrush. Night fell quickly, blue melting into bruised black.
Rose and Finch collapsed under the bent frame of a former jungle gym, close but not touching, and tuned out the world beyond their own whispered confidences.
Victor posted up at the edge of a toppled merry go round, back straight, arms folded, watching the city's silhouette bleed into the sky.
Felicity tried to be useful, arranging their food and sweeping leaves out of their would be nest, but her hands shook with leftover adrenaline and something else. She could still taste the wildness of the day on her tongue.
She wasn't sure if she had the right to approach him. But she did anyway.
She found her voice in the quiet. "Does it always feel like this, after a fight? Like nothing matters and everything matters?"
Victor exhaled, a soft huff that was almost a laugh. "You get used to it," he said, but the look he gave her contradicted that.
She realized, abruptly, that in all the violence and noise, no one in her old life had ever looked at her this closely, this carefully.
Her hands hovered, uncertain. Victor's, much larger, caught her wrist.
His voice was low as midnight. "You were scared today. But you still ran. You looked after the others and me."
The compliment, a rare, tender thing from him, burned hot in her chest. "I only did what you told me to."
He studied her, dark eyes catching every nuance. "No. You did more."
She didn't know what to do with the intensity between them; it felt like a third body, breathing and hungry. "I'm not…" She trailed off, not knowing what she wasn't.
He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, the warmth of his breath traveling up her arm. "You're more than you think, Felicity."
She trembled at the space between them. Before she could close it, he moved first, pulling her against the hard curve of his shoulder.
Her fox ears fluttered nervously against his exposed chest where his shirt had been torn away.
His eyes darkened as he claimed her, one powerful arm snaking around her waist, drawing her closer until she could barely breathe. "Mine," he growled, while she blushed and lowered her gaze.
Yet her body knew what her mind didn't, how perfectly they locked together, like puzzle pieces finally finding home.
She traced the line of his collarbone, emboldened. "Thank you for protecting me, you dont have to though," she whispered.
He kissed the top of her head, his voice thick. "Let me try anyway."
Her laugh was breathy, nervous, but she didn't pull back. The world inside the ruined playground was as small and sacred as a heartbeat.
She felt the heat of him through their clothes, the subtle quiver in his muscles as he held her.
His hand crept lower, resting at the curve of her hip, thumb rubbing slow circles against her tail's base.
She tilted her face up, and their lips met.
It wasn't gentle, not at first. She tasted copper and honey and something feral.
His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, demanding entrance, and she gave it gladly. He kissed her like he'd been waiting forever, like nothing in the world could ever taste this good again.
The kiss deepened, and her body responded with a low, aching thrum that started at her core and rippled out. Her fingers traced the contours of his chest, lingering over each rib as she absorbed the warmth radiating from his skin and the steady rhythm beneath.
When she hesitated, uncertain where to explore next, he took her hand and guided it lower, his eyes never leaving hers as he led the way deeper into their shared desire.
Victor crushed her against him, and she gasped at the contact, the sudden tightness in her belly. His hand found the small of her back, pressing her in until she felt the hard ridge of his dick between them. She moaned, softly, shocked by the sound, making Victor smirk and bite her lip.
She wanted to touch more of him, to know all the ways he was different from her, all the ways he was still human. When her fingers slipped beneath his pants, he inhaled sharply and let her, guiding her hand over his boxer shorts.
"Felicity," he said, her name a prayer or a warning.
Her eyes never leaving his. "I want to." The words fell out, awkward, but true. "But I dont know what to do," she pouted.
He cupped her face with a tenderness that made her ache, and kissed her again, slower this time, savoring every slide and press of their mouths.
His other hand crept up her side, fingers splaying over her ribs, along the frame of her body. He explored her, tracing her shape as if mapping a lost continent.
She let him, glorying in the attention, the way he made her feel both breakable and indestructible at once.
When he slid his hand beneath her shirt, warmth bloomed everywhere he touched. She was all nerves, all sensation; her nipples pebbled under his calloused palm, and when his thumb grazed them she gasped, arching helplessly against him.
He groaned, the sound deep and guttural. His restraint was exquisite and infuriating; he seemed to want to memorize her, every shudder and whimper.
When he finally pulled her shirt off, cautious, as if she might bolt, she trembled, waiting for the judgment, the disappointment she'd learned to expect.
But Victor only stared, reverent.
"You're perfect," he said.
She wanted to laugh it off, make some joke, but his hunger broke through her defenses. When his mouth closed over her breast, she cried out, clutching his shoulders for support.
He ravished her, nipping and licking and sucking until she couldn't remember anything but him, but now, but this.
She tugged at his shirt, insistent, and he let her undress him. She traced every scar, kissed the hollows and ridges of his chest, her tongue dipping into the salt and iron of his skin.
He shuddered, hands roaming her body with increasing urgency.
Clothes melted away, piece by piece, until she was bare under him. The air was cold but she barely felt it; his body was a furnace, his arms a cage she never wanted to escape from.
He kissed her everywhere, claiming each square inch of skin with the desperate awe of a starving man.
Her gaze dropped to the floor as she whispered, "I've never… I mean, before all this happened, I hadn't even held hands with anyone."
She ground herself against him, whimpering at the friction, the impossible need.
Victor's hand slipped between her thighs, testing, finding her slick and ready. He circled her clit with careful fingers, watching her face, and she nearly sobbed at the pleasure.
Careful fingers exploring her most intimate places, his eyes studying every flutter of her eyelids and parting of her lips as he found the perfect rhythm.
Each deliberate stroke of his fingers sent waves of sensation through her body until she nearly sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure.
He growled, his powerful hands gripping her hips to position her exactly where he needed.
"Mine," he snarled as he impaled her in one savage thrust.
Her body yielded to his invasion, stretching around his thickness, burning with delicious friction.
She gasped at the overwhelming fullness, screamed and covered her mouth. Victor's voice roughened with desire.
"You feel incredible around me," he growled, her vision blurring as he ground deeper, marking her from inside.
Her nails carved crescents into his muscled shoulders as he claimed her with brutal, possessive strokes that left no doubt who she belonged to.
Her inexperience revealed itself in a crimson testament that only intensified Victor's primal hunger.