I pull him down and kiss him, tasting myself on his lips, and reach between us to wrap my hand around him. He groans against my mouth—finally,finallya crack in that control.
“Polly—”
“My turn.”
I push him back against the pillows and straddle him, watching his face as I sink down onto him inch by inch. His hands grip my hips—guiding, not controlling—and his eyes never leave mine.
“You’re—” He tries to speak, fails, tries again. “You’re beautiful.”
“Obviously,” I gasp, and even now, evennow, the sass comes out.
He laughs. Actually laughs, with me on top of him, joined in the most intimate way possible. And somehow that’s what tips us over the edge—not the heat or the need but thejoy, the ridiculous absurd wonderful joy of finding someone who makes you laugh even in moments like this.
I move. He moves with me. The bond synchronizes us perfectly, pleasure feeding back and forth between us until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
“Together,” he manages, voice wrecked.
“Always.”
We shatter.
The mate marks blaze bright enough to light the room, and I feel him pulse inside me, feel myself clenching around him, feel the bond flare and bloom and settle into something permanent. Something unbreakable.
When the light finally fades and I collapse against his chest, we’re both breathing like we’ve run a marathon. His arms wrap around me, holding me close, and I can feel his heart pounding against my cheek.
“So,” I say into his chest. “Married.”
“Married,” he agrees.
“Any regrets?”
His arms tighten. “Only that I didn’t find you sooner.”
I prop myself up to look at him. His hair is a disaster, his eyes are soft, and he’s looking at me like I’m the answer to every question he’s ever asked.
“Sap.”
“Your sap now.”
“Stars help me.” But I’m smiling, and through the bond, I feel his joy—uncomplicated, bright, entirely ours.
We lie there in the candlelight, tangled together, sweaty and satisfied and glowing—literally, his scales are still flickering with residual heat.
“Your mother accepted me,” I say after a while. “On the balcony. She welcomed me to the family.”
I feel his surprise through the bond. “She did?”
“I think we bonded over you being ridiculous.”
“I am not ridiculous.”
“You set water on fire, Rynn.”
“One time.”
“I’m keeping receipts forever.”
He laughs again—that easy, real sound I’m learning to love—and pulls me closer.
