She went limp, boneless and splayed on the couch, her chest heaving.
CHAPTER
FIVE
Annie
For a few minutes, all I could do was stare at the ceiling and count the sweat cooling on my skin. I’d had sex before—good sex, even—but this was something else, a whole-body reset button mashed so hard I felt my bones realign. My hips still tingled, oversensitive and deliciously bruised, and my heartbeat hadn’t figured out how to slow down yet. I gazed down at Samiel beneath me, his eyes half-lidded and gleaming between triumph and awe. The corners of his mouth curled upward in a smile that was all teeth and satisfaction, like a predator who'd finally caught something worth the hunt.
He was still in me, and the knot was the most bizarre and intimate sensation I’d ever experienced. I tried to shift experimentally, and the movement wrung a sharp aftershock through my gut that made me giggle and gasp in the same breath. Samiel’s brow furrowed.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice pitched low, almost gentle. Maybe he was worried I’d break, or that he’d done somethingwrong, but the only thing wrong was how much I wanted to do that again. Like right now, if my legs would cooperate.
“Yeah,” I managed, breathless. “I think you just rearranged my entire personality.”
He blinked, uncertain, and then his mouth curved into a grin so disarmingly proud, I thought he might flex right through the couch. “I can fix it, if you want.”
“No way,” I said, finding his face with my hand. The skin was warm and just a little rough, like new suede. “I like it. I feel… optimized.”
He exhaled slowly, and the tension in his body seemed to melt. I got the impression he’d been bracing for disaster and was only now letting himself believe he hadn’t broken me. Not the way that mattered.
I wiggled again, experimentally, and the movement sent a shudder through both of us. The knot was still solid, keeping us joined, and the sensation was less possession now, more absurd intimacy—like a pinky swear made with every cell in our bodies. I couldn’t help it; I started giggling harder.
He looked at me, puzzled. “Is it that weird?”
“Oh, it’s weird,” I said, struggling to breathe, “but so am I. I think I’m into it.” I flexed around him, just to see what would happen, and Samiel’s eyes rolled back in his head for a split second before he managed to pull it together.
“Careful,” he said, voice rough. “If you do that, we’ll be here all night.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?” I ran my hand up the side of his face—I couldn’t get over how hot he ran. I wondered if having a higher body temperature was a demon thing or a Samiel thing. “Or is this just standard for demon marriages, the wholeknot and lockthing?”
He leaned in, nuzzling just under my jaw, all careful teeth and steady breath. “It will soften eventually. I just… didn’t want to let go.” The admission was so naked, it made me dizzy.
I snorted, which wasn’t the sexiest response, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I mean, if you’re going to keep me here, you could at least let me see the lake. You promised a view.”
He huffed a low sound, somewhere between a purr and a laugh. “That I can do. There’s a hot tub on the back deck. Clothes optional.”
I tried to wriggle in excitement and nearly saw stars. “You’re going to have to carry me. My legs don’t work anymore.”
He carried me—knot still firmly lodged, my ankles locked around his waist—to the patio door. The glass was warm against my bare back. Outside, the raw sky had softened from brutal blue to the bruised lavender of early evening, and the lake below shimmered in a way that looked inviting—but Samiel had warned me it was brutally cold.
The outdoor air was still desert-hot, but the wind licked goosebumps across my skin where the sweat had dried. There was a hot tub in one corner, half recessed into the concrete. The water steamed, a blue and white cauldron with a sign on the side: PLEASE SHOWER BEFORE USE.
Samiel maneuvered the few steps up, before lowering us both in, me still wrapped around him. I hissed as the hot water hit my skin, feeling the delicious sting. Samiel groaned as the heat hit him. “God yes,” he said, voice raw and unguarded. “This is almost as good as—” He stopped, then smirked. “Well. Almost.”
I laid my head on his chest, his heartbeat a drum beneath my ear. The water lapped between us, washing away the sweat and ache, but nothing could rinse away the feeling of belonging that had settled in my bones. My body still pulsed where he remained inside me. I pressed closer, chest to chest, my arms finding their way around his neck like they belonged there.
The silence between us was the good kind, just the hush of two people recalibrating.
For a while, we let the surface tension and the hiss of the jets do the talking. Somewhere in the valley, someone had started a bonfire, the woodsmoke drifting in a lazy spiral over the water. Bats looped through the air, chasing dusk-crazed bugs. It was perfect, almost aggressively so, and I felt myself relax into it—not just the bath, but the whole idea of being here, of letting myself want something without the constant snarl of skepticism gnawing at the corners.
Samiel’s hand found the nape of my neck, rubbing circles. Not possessive, just… gentle. I’d been bracing for claws and fangs, for some kind of cartoon villainy, but all I got was a thumb kneading where the tension pooled behind my skull.
“Should I be worried this is the happiest I’ve ever been on a first date?” I mumbled, barely loud enough for the bats to overhear.
He chuckled and the vibration of it, deep in his chest, hummed through my cheek. “Humans always worry when they’re happy,” he said. “It’s one of your top three hobbies. Right after self-sabotage and inventing new flavors of potato chip.”
He rolled us a little so I was half-floating, my head on his arm, and used his free hand to fish a leaf out of the water. He examined it like a jeweler, then flicked it over his shoulder.
