He slams me back against the door, and I gasp as his hand wraps around my neck—not choking, just holding, claiming. His mouth crashes against mine, and the kiss is brutal, desperate, consuming.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. All I can do is feel.
His other hand grips my hip, pinning me to the door as his body presses against mine. The solid weight of him is irresistible, and I arch into him instinctively.
“Mine,” he growls against my lips.
The word sends a shiver through me. I should protest. Should push him away. Instead, my hands grasp his shirt, pulling him closer.
He kisses me like he’s starving, like I’m the only thing keeping him alive. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming every inch, and I meet him with equal fervor.
The hand on my neck tightens slightly, and the possessive pressure makes me moan into his mouth.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes wild and dark. “Do you have any idea what it does to me?” His voice isrough, barely controlled. “Watching you sit there, so calm, so strong, while they threaten to take you from me?”
“Kieran—”
“You’re mine, Daciana.” His thumb strokes along my throat. “Mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. Mine.”
The intensity in his gaze steals my breath. “I know.”
“Do you?” He kisses me again, more softly this time but no less possessively. “Because sometimes I think you forget how completely you own me.”
My heart stutters. “I don’t own you.”
“You do.” His forehead presses against mine. “You have since the moment I first saw you. In every lifetime, every version of you, you’ve owned me completely.”
Tears prick at my eyes. I don’t know what to say to that, how to respond to the raw honesty in his voice.
I kiss him instead.
This time, I’m the one taking control. I pour everything into the kiss—my fear, my anger, my desperate need for him to be real, to be here. For him not to leave me.
He responds instantly, his hands roaming over my body like he needs to know every curve. When he grips my thighs and lifts me, I wrap my legs around his waist without hesitation.
He carries me away from the door, his mouth never leaving mine. We move toward the bed, a tangle of limbs and desperation.
“We’re going to figure this out,” he murmurs against my lips. “We’re going to find the bastard who cursed us, and we’re going to end this.”
“Together,” I breathe.
“Together.” He lays me down on the bed, hovering over me. His hand cups my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “I love you.”
The words still make my heart skip, even though we’ve said them before. Even though I’ve already given him those words back.
“I love you, too,” I whisper, meeting his eyes.
His expression softens, a vulnerable look crossing his face. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”
“Good.” I pull him down to me. “Because I’m not planning to stop saying it.”
He kisses me deeply, and I can feel his relief, his devotion, his fierce protectiveness. When his hands slide under my shirt, I arch into his touch. Every nerve ending is on fire, every point of contact between us electric.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin as he trails kisses down my neck. “So perfect.”
I really should tell him to stop. Remind him that we have problems to deal with. The hearing. The necromancer. My mysterious heritage.
But I can’t bring myself to care. Not when his hands are on me. Not when he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
