The essence of fire burns through my veins, amplifying every sensation, every emotion. The way she looked tonight when I walked into her room. The sound of her laugh when she spun for me. The absolute fury that consumed me when that bastard put his hands on her.
Mine.
The word echoes in my skull like a war drum, primal and possessive and completely at odds with the careful control I've maintained for weeks. I've been so fucking careful with her, walking on glass to avoid triggering her fear of being owned, of being controlled. But seeing another male touch her, hearing him assume he could just take what he wanted...
My hands curl into fists against the wood. The bond pulses between us, feeding me her emotions in fractured bursts—arousal, confusion, something that tastes like hunger but sharper. More desperate.
"I wasn't going to do anything with him."
Her voice cuts through the silence like a blade, defensive and sharp. I can't help the bitter laugh that escapes me.
"It's not like you would have been given a choice." The words come out sounding cruel, but they're true. I've seen enough of what happens during Noxalyth to know exactly how that encounter would have ended. "Not with someone like that."
It's not like she chose me either.
The thought makes something twist viciously in my chest. She's here because of magic, because fate or the gods or pure cosmic cruelty decided to bind us together. Not because she wants to be. Not because she chose this—chose me.
I feel her bristle through the bond, anger flaring hot and bright.
"Then what do you want from me?" The words snap like a whip, all that carefully contained fire finally breaking free. "Some kind of apology? What?"
The question breaks something inside me.
I whirl around, and the sight of her nearly brings me to my knees. Hair wild from the wind, cheeks flushed with anger and drink, that black dress clinging to every curve I've been trying not to think about for weeks. Beautiful and fierce and completely unaware of what she's asking for.
"Everything." The word rips from my throat like a confession torn free. "I want everything, Heidi."
I stalk toward her, and she doesn't back down—doesn't retreat even as something dangerous unfurls in the air between us. Of course she doesn't. My brave, reckless little thief.
"I want your body, yes. Gods, yes—I want to taste every inch of your skin, want to hear you scream my name until your voice breaks." The words pour out harsh and raw, months of carefulrestraint cracking like ice. "But I want more than that. I want your trust. Your laughter. I want to know every secret you've ever kept, every dream that keeps you awake at night."
Her lips part in shock, storm-gray eyes wide as I close the distance between us. I can smell her arousal now, sweet and intoxicating, mixing with the lingering traces of essence of fire on her breath.
"I want your anger when I do something that pisses you off. I want your softness when you think no one's watching." I reach up, fingers ghosting along the line of her jaw. "I want you to choose me—not because some cosmic force decided we belong together, but because you want to. Because you can't imagine belonging anywhere else." My voice drops low. "Gods, my fucking soul reaches out for you. Can't you feel that?"
The tension between us snaps like a bowstring.
She surges up on her toes, fingers fisting in my shirt, and crushes her mouth to mine with desperate hunger. The kiss is brutal—all teeth and need and weeks of suppressed want finally breaking free. I nip at her lower lip hard enough to draw a gasp, and she retaliates by biting down on my tongue.
Fire races through my veins, pooling low and hot. My hands find her waist, lifting her easily onto the edge of my desk as I step between her parted thighs. The kiss deepens, becomes savage, both of us taking and demanding and giving nothing but raw need.
I break away to breathe, both of us panting, and her fingers are already working at the buttons of my shirt. But I catch her hands, pin them against my chest.
"Are you sure?" The question scrapes from my throat. "Because once I start, Heidi, I'm not going to be able to stop. Not until I've had every part of you."
Her answer is to lean forward and bite the side of my neck, hard enough to leave marks. "Then don't stop."
Something snaps inside me—the last thread of my control finally giving way.
I lay her back against the desk, hands skimming up her thighs to find the hem of that sinful black dress. She lifts her hips to help as I peel it away, revealing inch after inch of pale skin marked with old scars and new determination.
My mouth waters at the sight of her. Beautiful. Perfect. Mine.
"I want to mark you," I murmur against the hollow of her throat, breathing in the scent of her skin. "I want everyone to know you belong to me."
Her soft moan is answer enough.
I scrape my teeth down the column of her neck, testing, watching her face for any sign of fear or hesitation. But all I see is want—desperate, hungry need that mirrors my own.
