“Fuck, Jake. That was—” she whimpered.
Her legs slid down from his shoulders as he dragged his mouth higher, pressing his hardness along her body as he moved, making sure she felt what her undoing had done to him. Their kiss was messy, desperate, and charged with anticipation. Her mouth tasted like his salvation, and it carried the mark she had just left on him, proof that she’d come undone just for him. Only for him.
“You taste so fucking good.” He groaned, thrusting his hips toward her. “I need more. Come apart for me again, Ella.”
His cock pressed hard against her thigh, aching for release, and his voice came ragged, harsh against her lips. “I want to feel all of you.”
She nodded, likely too far gone to form words, and that broke something in him all over again. His breath came in heavy pulls, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the fight to hold back or the need to take every last inch of her until she could never forget what he’d done to her body. He kissed down the line of her throat, across her shoulder, biting at her collarbone before claiming her mouth again.
“Fuck,” he hissed when he pulled back, realizing too late that he had broken skin. A single drop of blood welled, hot and bright, and when it touched his tongue it was sweet iron, sharp as her. He was too far gone to feel the warning beneath his skin.
The world ripped sideways. The ripple burst with violent force, air splitting like torn cloth, reality shrieking as if it had been wounded. Jakobav recoiled back on his knees, the taste of her blood still searing his tongue.
The Veil flared open in the center of the garden for half a heartbeat, just long enough to see shadow shift and feel raw fury pour through. Roses blackened, petals curling inward as if retreating from what had dared step too close.
Then it snapped shut with a sound like a snarl ripped in half.
Jakobav dropped back down beside Ella, panting, vision reeling, his gaze wild on her as if she were the only thing anchoring him to the ground. Her hand clutched her chest, the Orchid tattoo beneath her collarbone glowing faintly, ink alive.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The air shivered, charged and wrong, the garden holding its breath with them as if waiting to see if something else would tear free of the dark. Roses crackled softly, their blackened petals flaking. Jakobav’s heart hammered in his throat, blood still thrumming with adrenaline.
Some vicious, primal part of him bared its teeth at the thought of anything else reaching for her. She was his to protect, and the idea of another force touching her magic made his vision burn.
If anything had stepped through that tear, he would have torn it apart with his bare hands before he let it lay a finger on her.
“What the hell was that?” she whispered.
“That wasn’t me,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “That was you.”
“No,” she shot back, shaking her head hard.
Ella’s hands were trembling. She pulled her dress back down, covering herself and adjusting the torn neckline. “I felt you pull my power. You created that ripple.”
Fuck, she was right.
But before he could answer, a horn split the night, urgent and too close.
Branches snapped, hedges parting, and Bryn stumbled into the clearing with leaves in his hair and his coat askew. He froze.
“Didn’t think you were the gardening type, Jake,” Bryn said slowly, eyes sweeping over the wreckage. “Guess I was wrong.” He grinned like the bastard he was. “Ten out of ten for spectacle. Two out of ten for the damage you just caused to a five-hundred-year-old sacred garden. And gods”—his nose wrinkled theatrically—“you reek. Like a rotflower tonic left out in the sun.”
Jakobav pushed to his feet, breath still uneven from the breach, instinct rising faster than reason.
He reached down and offered his hand. Ella accepted it, and he pulled her steadily to her feet. She smoothed the fabric of her dress with shaking hands, cheeks still slightly flushed, trying to make herself whole again.
Without thinking, he stepped in front of her to give her the space she needed, a moment of dignity in the aftermath.
With his attention locked on Bryn, Jakobav reached back and found her wrist, his fingers closing around her. His thumb brushed over her pulse once, steadying her, telling her what he couldn’t voice in front of anyone else.I’ve got you.Then, without looking away from Bryn, he said evenly, “Close your eyes, Bryn.”
Bryn arched a brow. “Bit late for modesty, don’t you think?”
Another horn blared, closer this time, the sound slicing through the garden’s heavy air. Instinct forced Jakobav’s attention to the horizon, the hairs along his arms rising in warning.
“Outer ward breach. By the gate,” Bryn said, amusement fading into focus, though the leaves still clung to his hair. “And whatever the two of you just did, don’t ever make me smell it again.”
Ella scoffed. “We’ll add it to your growing list of complaints, Bryn.” She tugged free of Jakobav’s hand and dropped into a crouch, snatching Thane’s blade from where it lay in the dirt. In one efficient motion, she strapped it back to her waist.
First the ripple in the garden and now a breach within minutes—too much of a coincidence to ignore.
