I nod, words lost in the swell of hearts and snow. The Brotherhood moves toward the gates. I step beside Rafe. Mary, sentinel sister, stands at the front. She meets Darius’s eyes. They nod, sovereign siblings of sealed fate.
We step forward together, into night, into war, into history. The promise stands between frozen walls, carried in breath, flame, and heart: we will stop Roman. No matter what it takes.
30
RAFE
The sun bakes the old stones around us, warm and golden, and Kaleigh is a vision laid out on my cloak, her skin gilded in this broken place. There are no ghosts here, no wars waiting—just the hum of cicadas and the scent of wild thyme crushed beneath us. I lower myself over her, my shadow covering her completely, and the world narrows to the space between our bodies.
“You feel that?” My voice is rough, stripped bare. “Every part of me belongs to you.”
Her answer is a soft sigh as I push my cock into her pussy, a slow, perfect stretch that makes her arch up into me. Her heat surrounds me, tight and wet, and for a moment I can’t move, can’t breathe, just feel.
“Rafe.” My name on her lips is a homecoming.
I set a rhythm that’s deep and relentless, each thrust measured, each withdrawal a sweet torment. My hands slide under her, gripping her hips, holding her exactly where I need her. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, and her fingers dig into my shoulders.
“Don’t stop.” Her words are broken, gasped into the crook of my neck. “Please, don’t ever stop.”
I drive into her again, harder, and a raw sound tears from her throat. The pace builds, a steady, building wave. I shift, angling us so every movement brushes that spot inside her that makes her cry out, her body clenching around me.
“Come for me,” I growl against her skin, my breath hot on her throat. “Let me feel you.”
Her release crashes over her, a silent, shuddering quake that ripples through us both. She trembles beneath me, her inner muscles milking my cock.
I roll us over without breaking our connection, her back pressed against my chest now, my arms locked around her waist. The new angle is deeper, more possessive. I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in—sunshine and sweat and something that’s just her.
“Again,” I murmur into her ear, my hips driving up into her. “Give it to me again.”
She moans, her head falling back against my shoulder, her body pliant and trusting in my hands. I slide one hand down her stomach, through the damp curls, and find the swollen bud of her clit. I circle it with a firm, steady pressure, matching the rhythm of my thrusts.
“Rafe… I can’t…”
“You can.” My voice is a low rumble against her spine. “You will.”
Her breath hitches, her inner muscles fluttering around my cock. She’s so close, so responsive to every touch. I hold her tighter, driving into her with long, deep strokes that make her gasp my name. The sound is a prayer in the quiet air.
“That’s it. Let go.”
Her second climax takes her silently, a series of sharp, breathless shudders that ripple through her entire frame. Shegoes boneless in my arms, her weight a perfect anchor. I keep moving, slower now, drawing out the sensation for both of us.
Her breathing slows, her body soft and heavy against mine. I stay inside her, not ready to let this end, not ready to let the world back in. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my forearm.
“My turn.”
Her voice is a husky whisper that goes straight to my cock, which is still hard and buried deep within her. She shifts, sliding off me with a soft, wet sound that makes me grit my teeth. The cool air hits my skin, a stark contrast to her heat.
Before I can pull her back, she’s on her knees between my legs, her hands on my thighs. Her hair curtains her face as she leans forward.
“Let me,” she whispers, and her breath is warm against the tip of my cock.
Her mouth closes over me, and my head falls back. A low groan rips from my chest. Her tongue is a slick, hot pressure, tracing the length of me before she takes me deeper. Her hands grip my hips, holding me steady as she works me with a rhythm that’s both tentative and sure. I fist my hands in the cloak beneath me, the fabric tearing under the strain.
“Kaleigh.” Her name is a raw plea.
I let this go on for a minute, maybe two, lost in the sensation of her mouth, the worship in her touch. But it’s not how this ends. Not this time.
With a growl that’s more feeling than sound, I sit up and wrap my arms around her, lifting her easily. She makes a small sound of protest against my skin.
