It poured down around them like a veil, cold fire licking across their skin. She felt the binding take hold, threads sinking into her blood, winding through her heart, finding the pulse that matched his.
She could feel him now. Not thoughts, not words, but sensations, the rough cadence of his breathing, the ache in his chest, the shock of his control slipping for one fractured second. It filled her until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.
Dominic made a small, strangled sound and gripped her hand tighter. The magic pulsed once, twice, then sank deep, leaving only a whisper in the air and the scent of burnt pine.
Silence.
The priest stepped back, voice gentler now. “By Lunarion’s light, you are mated.”
The ethereal haziness faded, leaving only the darkened room.
Layla swayed, light-headed. The air was thick with the aftermath, cloying and sweet. She realized her palms were still pressed to Dominic’s, her skin tacky with their mingled blood. When she tried to pull away, his fingers tightened fractionally before he let her go.
The separation felt like the sharp spray of salt breeze.
Dominic’s breath was unsteady now. He reached out his hand for a brief second towards her before letting it drop down in a clenched fist.
“You’re shaking,” he said softly, not meeting her eyes.
“It’s the magic,” she managed. “It’s still inside me.”
His eyes flicked to her hand, where her palm throbbed. “It’s inside us both.”
Their gazes caught and held. The air between them was charged, fragile.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The priest turned away, murmuring a final benediction to God, giving them the mercy of privacy.
Layla broke the silence first, her voice barely a whisper. “What happens now?”
He looked away, jaw working, something like fury sparking across his features. She didn’t think it was aimed at her. “Normally we would…consummate.”
“Oh,” she whispered, hands pressing into her stomach.
Sometimes, late at night, all alone in her bed, she thought she could still feel him inside her, thick and hot and all-consuming. She couldn’t imagine feeling that with anybody else.
She wanted it.
Cautiously, she stepped forward, her legs moving without her fully realizing it. Dominic’s attention snapped to her, his predator eyes watching her move, calculating and untrusting.
He was close now, close enough to touch.
Her heart skipped a beat.
“What are you doing?” he said, his voice rough.
“I…” she whispered, stepping closer again, “I don’t know…”
He blinked. Then moved, the motion so fast she didn’t have time to process it. One second, she was standing, hovering in front of him, leaning over the metaphorical cliff, and the next she was in his arms, crushed against his hard chest, his lips a hair’s breadth from her own.
She couldn’t help but gasp. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips. She’d always hated how big her hips were. How big all of her was compared to the slim, athletic girls in the pack.
But Dominic…Dominic held her like she was the last cup of water in a desert. Hot and desperate and wild.
Their breaths mingled, panting and damp.
For a single, aching second, she thought that he was going to reach down and kiss her.
And then reality slammed back into her.
