I exhale shakily and start to move.
Slow at first.
Controlled.
Every thrust deliberate. Deep. Careful.
But it’s killing me.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to move faster. Harder. To claim her completely.
The berserker strength surges just beneath my skin—not anger, but raw, primal need.
But I can’t. She’s still healing. I’m too strong. If I lose control—
She shifts her hips. Pulls me deeper.
I groan—low and broken. “Fuck, Kaia—”
“More,” she whispers. “I can take it. I promise.”
Her hand comes up. Touches my jaw. Soft. Trusting.
“I know you’re holding back,” she whispers. “You don’t have to. Not with me.”
“Kaia—” Her name breaks on my lips. Wrecked.
She’s going to kill me.
My control fractures.
I shift my grip. Hands on her hips—firm but careful.
My rhythm changes.
Still controlled. Still watching her face for every reaction.
But intense now.
Deep. Consuming. Every thrust hitting exactly where she needs me.
She arches into me. Nails raking down my forearms enough to sting.
The pain grounds me. Keeps me from losing myself completely.
“You feel so good,” I lean down to murmur against her ear. “So perfect. Like you were made for me.”
She pulls me closer. Wraps her legs around my waist.
Gods.
The angle shifts and I hit deeper. My hands grip her hips—guiding, adjusting—lifting her slightly so I can drive in exactly where she needs me.
She cries out and I swallow the sound with a kiss, still moving, keeping the rhythm steady even though every muscle in my body is screaming at me to let go.
Heat builds between us—literal heat, my fire magic responding to hers, to the bond, to everything we are together.
Her shadows pulse around us—soft, rippling, alive. My magic flares in answer—controlled, but barely.
