I gritmy teeth so hard I fear they’ll shatter. My wet pants are a joke, a useless barrier against the heat of her and the sheer, driving need to be buried inside her.
I lean forward,lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Is it better, baby?”
“Better?”She pants, her voice thick and honey-slow. “I’m not burning, but it just... wants.”
I know.I feel it too. The pain has burned off, leaving behind a raw, hungry void that only one thing can fill.
I shift my grip,my hands slide back up to her waist to turn her around in the cramped tub. The water sloshes over the sides, hitting the floor with heavy, throbbing thuds that sound like a heartbeat in the quiet of the cabin. I don’t care. I don’t care about the mess. I don’t care about anything but the need to see her face.
I lift her easily,settling her across my lap so she’s facing me. Her legs wrap around my waist, her wet skin slick against my own.
She lookslike a goddess of the Mist. Her hair is plastered to her neck, her eyes are wide and dark, her lips parted as she gasps.
“Sha’veyl—thrû’nak mai breathe.”I rasp, my hand coming up to cup the back of her head. (You’re so beautiful—you steal my breath.)
“My queen. My match, My soul.”
I don’t waitfor her to answer. I lean in and capture her mouth with mine. It’s not the gentle kiss from the forest. It’s a collision. It’s the sound of every wall I’ve built for over three thousand years finally crumbling into the bottomless sea of my need for her.
She tasteslike lavender and desperation.
My tongue sweeps against hers,and Rhûven lets out a triumphant roar in the back of my mind.
The screechof my claws gouging deep into the porcelain is a jagged, metallic sound that makes my fangs twinge with the insistent need to pump venom into her.
She pulls back just an inch,her forehead resting against mine, both of us struggling for air.
I burymy face in the crook of her neck, my fangs dragging in a slow line from her collarbone to the sensitive skin behind her ear.
“Andrik,”she whispers, her hands framing my face, thumbs tracing the line of my fangs. “Don’t be careful. Just for a minute... stop being careful.”
“Thrahk’kal.”(Fuck it all.)
I hookher legs over the sides of the tub, spreading her wide without an ounce of gentleness. I want her open. I hitch her hips up, dragging her out of the water until she’s displayed for me. A millennium I've waited for this view, and I refuse to miss a single twitch of what I'm about to do to her.
Kaemorin.Ael’mira. (Mine. All of you.)
She’s glistening for me, and so swollen. My hand slides between her thighs—her slick covers my fingers the moment I touch her.
“Veyr’sal kael ves kynval, Saelûn,”I murmur against her skin, voice rough with barely-controlled need. “Virae ves’kai tharn ves’theln. Kaemorin. Ael’mira. (You’ll be caged in snow and godfire, soulbond. Writhing on my furs for days. Mine. All of you.)
She hisses,bucking into my touch.
I’m not goingto take her.
I’m not goingto claim her.
But I will giveher this.
“Please,”she whimpers, her voice breaking. “Please, touch me, Saelûn.”
I freeze.
Every thoughtin my head scatters like snow in a whiteout. That one word from her lips—my own tongue, my own soul—melts every bit of ice I have left. She just remade my world with a single breath.
“What did you call me?”My hand slides from her chin to the back of her neck, my fingers tangle in the wet silk of her hair to hold her steady.
“Saelûn,”she whispers again, eyes locked on mine. Pleading with me to touch her. “You’re mine, Andrik, please...”
