His first thrust drew a broken moan from her lips. The pace he soon set was relentless, each snap of his hips hitting that sweet spot inside her with terrifying precision. His large hands gripped her thighs, holding her open as he drove into her again and again, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the chamber.
“Harder,” she demanded with raw need, her magic sparking along her skin.
A low growl escaped him as he obeyed, his thrusts turning brutal. The bedframe groaned in protest beneath them. She could feel his control fraying, his dragon rising closer to the surface with every passing second.
“I’m close,” he gritted out, his muscles coiled tight.
She could see it in his face—the moment his dragon nearly took over. His hand pressed down firmly over her heart, and searing heat bloomed across her skin. His Obsidian mate brand began forming—wings and thorns etching themselves into her flesh.
“Wait—” She gasped, her hands flying to his wrist. “Not yet.”
The effect was instantaneous. He wrenched his hand away as if burned, his shadowfire recoiling. The half-formed brand glowed angrily on her skin, the sigil incomplete but unmistakable.
Panting, he stilled above her, his entire body trembling with the effort of restraint. “Serenya, I’m sorry?—”
“It’s okay.” She cupped his face, forcing his wild gaze to meet hers. “I want this. I want you. Just... not the mark. Not yet.”
Not yet. But someday.
Understanding flickered in his eyes. With a ragged nod, he resumed his thrusts, this time gentler and more controlled. But the intensity between them hadn’t lessened—if anything, the near-claiming had stoked the fire higher.
“Come inside me,” she whispered against his lips. “Claim me that way for now.”
His groan was pure sin as his pace turned punishing once more. She could feel him teetering on the edge, his massive body taut as a bowstring. When her orgasm hit, it tore through her like lightning, her back arching off the bed as she screamed his name.
That was all it took. With a roar that shook the very walls, Vaelrik followed her over, spilling deep inside her.
For several heartbeats, the only sound was their ragged breathing. Then, with surprising tenderness, he gathered her against his chest, his lips brushing the half-formed mate mark with reverence.
“I’ll wait until you tell me when,” he vowed, the words vibrating through her very soul.
Serenya traced the incomplete sigil with trembling fingers, her magic still humming from their joining. The brand pulsed faintly beneath her touch—a promise of what was to come, when she was ready.
Curling into his embrace, she pressed her ear to his chest, listening to the steady thunder of his heartbeat. His fingers trailed lazy patterns down her spine, his touch so tender it made her throat tighten.
This—thiswas what terrified her most. Not his strength, not his curse, but the way he looked at her as if she was the answer to every prayer he’d never dared speak aloud.
SIXTEEN
VAELRIK
Vaelrik lay sprawled in his bed, his chest still rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. The volcanic heat of his quarters felt almost cool compared to the fire that had just burned between them. Serenya was curled against his side, her dark red hair spilling across his bronze skin like liquid fire, and her fingers tracing lazy patterns along the half-formed mate mark that glowed softly over her heart.
The sight of his incomplete sigil etched into her flesh sent a primal satisfaction coursing through his veins. Wings and thorns—his dragon’s claim—but only half-finished, waiting for her permission to complete what they’d started.
His dragon purred contentedly beneath his ribs. The shadowfire curse wasn’t clawing at his control, wasn’t snarling for release or destruction. It simply... watched. Dormant. Almost peaceful.
The quiet unnerved him more than the chaos ever had.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Serenya murmured against his chest, her breath warm against his skin. Her green eyes flicked up to meet his, bright with satisfaction and something deeper—something that made his throat tighten with an emotion he didn’t dare name yet.
“Sorry.” His voice came out rough as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I’m not used to... this.”
“Peace?” she asked with that smile that always seemed to undo him.
“You,” he admitted, the word scraping raw from his chest. “I’m not used to being safe for anyone.”
Her expression softened, and she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat—a gentle kiss that sent heat spiraling through his bloodstream all over again. “Your dragon knew exactly what to do with me.”
