His fingers brushed along my jaw and gently lifted my chin.
“It will.”
My mind was racing. Freedom—at last! I could leave this city now and start a new life. The jewelry on me would be enough to buy me a small house anywhere…
And after that? What? What would I do when they came after me? The Renegade and his demons would never stop hunting me.
Hunting us.
Was I ready to leave this?
To walk away from Emrys Ravenborn?
“I will always protect you, even if you decide to walk away,” he said.
I cleared my throat. “Why?
He shifted his weight, his eyes never leaving mine. There was something new in those irises, gray, like stormy clouds. Something soft.
“I want you to have a choice.”
Freedom. I’d longed for it all my life. But freedom alone was not the same as belonging. It was not the same as choosing someone who sees all of you and stays.
Something cracked inside me: the walls keeping me away from who I really was.
“No, Emrys,” I rasped. “For too long, I was hiding. For too long, I was running away from who I was. From what I want. Not anymore. We’ll perform the ritual tomorrow.”
He leaned in so close I could see his dark, long lashes and the black stubble along his jawline. “Are you sure you want this, Daphne Draymoore?” His lips gently brushed mine.
“I am sure, Emrys,” I breathed.
His fingers trailed my hair. “Let’s celebrate this,” he said, offering his hand.
He led me to a shallow pool. Steam curled from the surface of the sapphire water. Neatly folded towels embroidered in gold thread, and a single bar of olive soap lay on the floor beside it. He pulled his shirt over his head, and my breath hitched. Lantern light caught the planes of his chest, the faint scars along his ribs, the slow rise and fall of his breath. He was beautiful—but not like a statue, like something weathered by battle and tempered by time.
“You’re staring, Miss Draymoore,” he teased, but his voice held a tremor.
I dipped my fingers into the warm water, watching the ripples spread. “You brought me to a place made for surrender,” I whispered. “What did you think I would do?”
He knelt behind me, his breath ghosting over my neck. “I hoped you’d choose to stay with me,” he said. “But I didn’t dare expect it.”
My eyes rose to meet his. “I didn’t just choose to stay with you. I’ve been choosing you since the catacombs.”
Steam curled between us. He reached for the buttons of my tunic and unfastened them slowly, reverently.
“Then let me worship you properly,” he said, voice loaded with dark promises.
My clothes fell on the floor like a whisper, and I entered the pool. The water was warm, soothing every ache. Emrys followed, his eyes darker than midnight. He kneeled before me, the water reaching his waist, and pulled me in.
It was just him close to me, the heat and our breath. The world paused, blurred into some distant memory, and I thought that the old sultan was right. Our kiss was slow as if we both tried to memorize how the other tasted. Emrys’s armsclosed around my waist, and my skin sprouted goosebumps. He sat on the floor of the shallow pool and pulled me onto his lap. That feral need was already carving me, and the feeling of his hardness between my legs made me arch into him. His lips trailed down my neck, following the path of the fragrant droplets of water, then lingered on my breast.
“Let’s do a clean start, little thief. Here and now,” he purred against my wet skin. “Not as bound to each other by the whims of magic, but as people who chose each other.”
“Agree,” I muttered. And I really did—body, breath, and heart.
His tongue circled my nipple as he slowly—inch by inch—sheathed himself inside me, stretching me to a point where I needed to scream. My fingers curled in his hair. “Emrys,” I breathed, unable to put my hunger into words. His lips found mine again, and I started gliding up and down his cock. The warm water against my skin, his firm hands around my waist, guiding me, the heat of his kiss—it all built up into a crescendo of desire. Tasting more of him, taking more of him—that was all that mattered at this moment.
“You’ll be the death of me, little thief,” he moaned between kisses, thrusting himself with full force, biting my lip with that needle-sharp canine. The world exploded in glowing confetti while I clenched around him. “Daphne,” he whispered, fingers at my neck, pulling me in for another kiss—then he spilled himself inside me. We remained in each other’s arms, panting.
