But I’m not done with her yet. I slow my movements, drawing out her aftershocks, my mouth finding that sensitive spot on her throat that makes her gasp. I can feel her body responding again, the magic sparking back to life as I build her toward another peak. The Ether thrums between us, silver and black threads pulsing in rhythm with our bodies.
“Say my name,” I command, my voice rough with need. “Say my name when you let go.”
“Wes,” she gasps, and then again, louder: “Wes!”
I feel her body tighten around me, her pleasure crashing through our magic like a wave of pure light.
My own climax follows seconds later, ripping through me with an intensity that leaves me shaking. For a moment the world goes white, everything reduced to pleasure and magic and the feeling of being completely, impossibly full for the first time in my life.
We collapse together afterward, breathing hard, her head pillowed on my chest. The Ether settles around us like a blanket, still sparking with aftershocks—silver threaded with those dark veins that pulse like a heartbeat.
I’m full. Truly, completely full for the first time in my life. The hollowness that’s been eating at me for weeks is gone, replaced by a warm, thrumming energy that makes my skin feel electric. I’m half-stunned by the intensity of it, half-drunk on the sensation of being exactly what I was meant to be.
“Your pleasure feeds me, Bree,” I whisper against her hair, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “That’s what I am. And I’ll never stop wanting more.”
She makes a soft sound of contentment, her fingers curling in my shirt like she’s anchoring herself to me. Her breathing is already slowing, eyelids heavy with satisfaction and exhaustion.
Watching her like this—sated, trusting, completely undone in my arms—something shifts in my chest. The possessive hunger sharpens into something fiercer. More protective.
She chose me. Fed me. Made me powerful instead of broken.
But it’s more than that. Her trust is what makes this possible—without it, I’m nothing but hunger. Without her choosing to give, I’m just another predator taking what isn’t mine.
The weight of that responsibility settles over me, heavier and more precious than any power.
I pull the blankets up around her carefully, tucking her against my side. She doesn’t stir, just burrows closer with a sleepy sigh that makes my chest tight with something I don’t have words for yet.
No one touches her,I think, the vow crystallizing with surprising intensity.No one takes from her without her choosing it. She’s mine to feed from, mine to protect.
The thought should probably scare me—the raw possessiveness of it, the way it feels carved into my bones. Instead it just feels right. Natural. Like this is what I was always meant to become.
Bree’s breathing evens out completely, one hand still fisted in my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go. But I don’t move.Don’t want to break the connection, don’t want to disturb the perfect weight of her against me.
I should be tired. Should be ready to sleep off the overwhelming intensity of what just happened.
Instead I’m buzzing with restless energy, my new strength crackling under my skin like electricity looking for somewhere to go. The feeding satisfied the desperate hunger that’s been clawing at me, but it’s also awakened something else. Something that feels too big to contain in this room, no matter how perfect the moment is.
I stare at the door, a slow grin tugging at my mouth.
The night isn’t over yet.
Chapter 19
Gray
The sanctuary usually swallows sound.
Tonight it handed me hers.
I’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours, replaying every sound that shouldn’t have made it through these walls. Her voice, soft and desperate. The way she called his name—Wes—like it was torn out of her.
This place keeps secrets. Thick stone, older than anything I understand. Most nights, I can’t even hear footsteps in the hallway. But tonight felt different. Like the house wanted me to lie here with my jaw clenched and my hands fisted in the sheets, knowing exactly what was happening down the hall.
My teeth ache. Every muscle feels coiled too tight, like I’m ready to spring or fight or run. Something’s been crawling under my skin for weeks, and tonight it’s clawing to get out.
I should feel guilty about the way my pulse jumped every time she made those sounds. Should be ashamed of how much I wanted to be the one pulling them from her lips.
But guilt isn’t what’s eating at me.
