“Lyra…” My name tore from him, raw, like he hadn’t spoken it out loud before. Like it cost him something. His thumb brushed my skin with a tenderness that didn’t match the heat in his eyes. And in that moment, I felt the truth he’d never say aloud. He wasn’t worried about giving me his body, it was his heart he was protecting.But I think I wanted to take that too.
I pushed the rest of his cock inside of me, gasping anddigging my fingers into his back. So full. So thick. He was everywhere. He growled, struggling to stay still to give me time to adjust. I rolled my hips, giving him permission to move and he met me with every thrust.
“You take me so fucking well.”
His hand reached between us, fingers circling my clit with every thrust. I was going to shatter. And Gods help me, I would not be the same again.
“Don’t you dare cum yet,” he commanded and my whole body trembled. “Look at me.” He fisted my hair and pulled me into every thrust.
I was swallowed by the darkness in his eyes. I didn’t know where I ended and he began. “Please,” I begged between moans. I was right there—I needed?—
“Gods!”
His hand slapped against the flesh of my ass, squeezing almost painfully. “That’s it, scream to the Gods. I want them to know you aremine.”
Pleasure detonated low in my belly, a sudden, blinding rush that stole my breath. I clung to him helplessly as it tore through me.
“Good girl,” he grunted, “cuming all over my cock.” He thrust through every pulse before he groaned, cock twitching inside me as his warmth spread through me. We collapsed against each other, holding one another as if we were not enemies.
My chest ached uncomfortably as the world slowly settled around us, the room too quiet.
The Commander held me, his breath coming unsteadily as his shadows dug into his skin.
I wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair away from my cheek with shaking fingers. “We should nothave done that,” he whispered, voice breaking with emotion.
“Do you regret?—”
“No,” he cut me off. “That’s the problem.” He lifted his hand again but stopped before touching me, as if afraid his palm would burn. “What the fuck have you done to me?” he whispered, voice rough.
My heart squeezed painfully as my fingers skimmed his jawline. He closed his eyes like the touch undid him entirely. Leaning forward, his forehead rested against mine. It was something far more terrifying than letting him touch me. This felt like trust. Like intimacy.
I hesitated for a moment, then curled against his chest. His breath hitched as I placed a hand over his heart. After a long, shaking moment, he wrapped an arm around me and laid back, drawing me into the warm, solid line of his body. Bliss flooded my veins as butterflies swarmed my stomach. His hand trailed up my spine, slow and reverent?—
“Stop!” I demanded, sitting upright. But it was too late.
He froze. Every muscle in his body turned to stone. His breath stopped completely. “Lyra…” My name left him in a tortured whisper. His fingers moved carefully, tracing one raised line… then another… then another.
My throat closed. Instinctively, I tried to pull away, but he caught my arm. Not forcefully, just firm enough to keep me from retreating. His touch shook as he brushed my hair aside, exposing the puckered scars marking my back.
“Who the fuck did this to you?”
A shiver ripped up my spine at the darkness in his voice. His eyes were pure black, his voice quiet and deadly. I shook my head, unable to look at him.
Gods, I wanted a hole to appear and swallow me. I didn’t want him to see how broken I was.
“Lyra,” he warned, voice almost pleading.
“Punishments,” I ground out. His jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind, but he sat patiently and waited for me to find the words.
“My father said I was cursed. The only cure was to bleed the evil from me…” My voice wavered. “The priest took over when I was eighteen. He left… other scars as well.” I swallowed the rest. He didn’t need the details. I couldn’t survive seeing the disgust in his face.
He went unnervingly still. “Otherscars?” he repeated, like each syllable repulsed him. Something dangerous lurked beneath the words.
My hands curled into the sheets as I struggled to find the right words. I was scared, but I wanted to tell him.
“He bled me…” I forced the words through numb lips. “Sometimes I would be chained in the dungeon for days, dripping blood into vials. But after, he would alsouseme.”
