The moons hung high over the conservatory, casting soft shadows across the bed where Lyra and Hassian lay tangled in quiet comfort. Tau snored contentedly nearby, one paw twitching in some unseen dream. The world outside their glass haven was hushed, but inside, the air still carried traces of laughter and the warm scent of mint tea.

They’d come home late from their first marriage prep session with Chayne, both surprised at how insightful—and occasionally bizarre—it had been. Now, wrapped in sleep clothes and blankets, the night was finally theirs.

Lyra lay on her stomach, cheek to the pillow, her eyes watching Hassian’s silhouette in the silver glow. He sat beside her, legs folded, rubbing gentle circles into her shoulders with those strong, sure hands of his. Every now and then, he’d press a kiss to the nape of her neck, and she’d melt a little more.

“Mmm,” she murmured, “if you keep that up, I’m going to marry you twice.”

His fingers paused, then resumed their slow, grounding rhythm. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll have Chayne draft up a second ceremony.”

She smiled sleepily into the pillow. “We’ll have to let Saraya and Lexi plan that one too.”

At that, he groaned softly and let his head drop forward, forehead resting between her shoulder blades.

Lyra laughed. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“She’s talking about color schemes,” Hassian muttered. “Saraya said ‘sunset woodland mystique’ and Lexi actually nodded like that meant something.”

“She also mentioned a floating dessert table,” Lyra added, grinning.

“I don’t even know what that is. Why does it float?”

“I think Flow is involved.”

He lifted his head just enough to give her a look. “There’s going to be Flow at our reception?”

“I’m working on boundaries.”

“You need to.”

They fell quiet for a moment, the kind of silence that didn’t need filling. Then Lyra turned onto her side, propping herself up just enough to see his face.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip, then asked, “How many kids do you see us having?”

That caught him off guard. His brow lifted. “You’re asking me that?”

“Well, sure,” she said. “We’re getting married. I figure we should probably sync up on the whole future thing. I was thinking… I don’t know. Two? Maybe three?”

Hassian tilted his head slightly, pretending to give it serious thought. “Six. Maybe eight.”

Lyra blinked. “When exactly did you lose your mind?”

He grinned. “I want a squad.”

“A squad?”

“Foraging team. Combat-trained. Sleep-deprived. Loyal to the end.”

She laughed so hard she had to roll onto her back, clutching her side. “You’re planning a military unit, not a family.”

“I can do both.”

“I think I need to renegotiate the marriage contract,” she gasped.

“You can’t. You already let your friends plan the reception.”

“Oh no,” she groaned. “I walked right into that one.”

He leaned over her, bracing himself on his forearm, eyes soft with amusement. “Hey.”

She looked up.

“I was kidding,” he said gently. “About the number. Mostly. Whatever the future looks like—I just want it with you.”

Her breath caught, and her teasing smile gave way to something softer. “That’s a good answer.”

“I know,” he said smugly, and she smacked his chest.

“Still,” she murmured, after a beat. “It’s strange, thinking about a future we’re building. A year ago I didn’t even know if I had one.”

“You do,” he said firmly. “You have one. And it’s ours now.”

She reached up, brushing her fingers along his jaw. “And to think,” she whispered, “this is the same man who barely spoke to me for the first three months.”

Hassian chuckled low in his chest. “That man was a fool.”

“And now?”

He bent down and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, letting it linger.

“Now I talk just enough to keep you.”

The hush that followed their laughter settled soft and thick, like a down blanket pulled over the conservatory. Stars blinked through the curved glass ceiling, scattered above them like blessings. Tau gave one last sigh from his corner before curling into sleep, the only witness to the stillness that wrapped around them.

Lyra ran her fingers through Hassian’s hair, letting the strands fall slowly through her hand. “You really want eight?” she asked again, teasing.

“I want whatever brings more of you into the world,” he murmured, breath warm against her temple. “Though I’m open to negotiation.”

She gave a soft, delighted laugh, the sound curling through his chest. “Six or eight, you’ll be the one up at dawn with them. I’ll be recovering.”

He chuckled, the low rumble stirring something deep in her belly. “Fine by me. As long as I get to wake up beside you.”

That made her smile falter—just a breath. Her eyes found his, something tender glinting there. “You’ve been different lately.”

“Better?” he asked.

“More open.” She touched his cheek. “Like the man you’ve always been is finally not afraid to stay.”

He pressed a kiss to her wrist, lingering there. “You make it easy.”

Lyra’s lips curved against his as she whispered, low and daring, “I’m in charge tonight.”

Hassian’s answering laugh was rougher this time, thick with heat. His breath brushed her ear, warm and insistent. “Yes, my queen. Tell me what you want.”

She gripped his hair tighter, tilting his head so she could meet his eyes. “I want you.”

The restraint in him shattered like glass. His mouth claimed hers, hunger and fire colliding in a kiss that stole her breath. Teeth grazed lips, tongues tangled, and she gasped even as she returned it. His hands roamed—hard at her hips, sliding along her ribs, pressing her closer.

She guided him at first, teasing and asserting her control—but his strength and instinct gradually took the lead. Each motion, every brush of lips and hands, spoke of their desire and trust, of playful dominance.

“Slower,” she whispered, husky. He obeyed, lips trailing fire along her neck. “Harder,” she breathed. His grip tightened, pulling her against him, and she shivered.

“Just like that,” she gasped, fingers clutching his shoulders, nails grazing the base of his neck. Her back arched, pressing into him.

He growled softly into her ear, moving in perfect sync with her. “You’re mine,” he murmured, low and rough. “Always.”

Her voice hitched, a laugh, a groan, a shiver of delight. “I—oh—Hassian—just like that.”

They moved together until the world outside the conservatory blurred to insignificance. The climax came like lightning, sharp and consuming, leaving them trembling and gasping. She clung to him, cheek pressed to his chest, his heartbeat drumming through her.

Her lips brushed his collarbone, voice shaky but teasing. “I was completely in charge.”

Hassian’s arm tightened around her waist, holding her flush against him. He pressed a long, slow kiss to her temple, voice gravelly and thick with want. “Yes, baby. You always are… because I’ll do anything you tell me to.”

She exhaled against his chest, curling closer. “Just like that,” she whispered.

He chuckled low, holding her, the heat lingering, the quiet affirmations threading through their steady breathing. “Always, baby. Always like that.”

And for a long while, they stayed tangled, the world outside forgotten, hearts and breaths syncing in the quiet aftermath, wrapped in fire and trust, each whisper and touch leaving them both scorched and certain.

“You’re here,” he whispered, his voice low and raw.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she breathed.

And above them, the stars shimmered through glass, silent witnesses to two lives fused quietly, completely, without fanfare—only truth.