“My turn,” she says, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
She doesn’t go for my neck. Instead, she presses her palm flat against my chest, directly over my heart. Her eyes glow violet, bright and ancient, and I feel the magic gathering in her touch.
“Nova—“
“Shh.” Her fingers spread wide, and heat blooms beneath her hand. Not painful—warm, like sunlight concentrated on a single point. “Let me.”
The magic pulses through me, recognizing the angel blood that now runs dominant in my veins. I feel them meet—her fae power and my celestial heritage—sparking against each other before intertwining. The sensation is beyond physical; it’s completion.
Her hand glows brighter, violet light spilling between her fingers. The heat intensifies, then settles into something permanent. When she finally lifts her palm, I look down.
A handprint—her handprint—blazes violet against my skin. Not a wound. Not a scar. A brand of pure magic, glowing faintly even as I watch.
“Fuck,” I breathe, pressing my own hand over hers.
The bond snaps fully into place, humming between us. I can feel her emotions flooding into me: her satisfaction, her desire, her fierce possessive joy.
“Now we’re bound,” she says, satisfaction lacing her voice. “Both ways.”
I look at the violet handprint over my heart, then at the silver bite mark on her shoulder. Different methods, different magic. But the same meaning.
The constant hunger that’s driven me my entire life transforms into something else—a fierce need to protect what’s mine. What’s ours.
“Not done with you yet,” I growl, flipping her back underneath me. “We’ve got all night.”
Her laugh turns into a moan as I thrust into her again, both of us wearing each other’s marks, both of us claimed and claiming in equal measure.
The difference is immediate. Every sensation doubles, triples—I feel her pleasure layered over my own, her arousal feeding mine in an endless loop. When I thrust deep, I feel both the tightgrip of her body around me and the fullness she experiences from my cock stretching her.
“Oh God,” she gasps, her eyes flying wide. “I can feel—I can feel what you’re feeling—“
“I know.” My voice comes out strangled. I can feel her approaching orgasm building like a wave, can sense exactly what she needs. I adjust my angle, grinding against her clit with each thrust, and her pleasure spikes so hard through the bond that I nearly come right then.
“Dane—“ She claws at my back, her walls clenching. “It’s too much—”
“Take it.” I drive into her harder, faster. Through the bond, I feel her resistance crumble, feel the orgasm rising up to swallow her whole. “Let go.”
She shatters with a scream, and I feel it—actually feel her climax rippling through my own body. The sensation triggers my release, pleasure crashing through both of us simultaneously. I roar her name as I spill inside her, and through the bond I feel my orgasm echo through her, extending her pleasure, which extends mine, which extends hers—
The feedback loop threatens to destroy us both. Wave after wave of shared ecstasy, each peak triggering another, until we’re both shaking, gasping, utterly wrecked.
When it finally subsides, I collapse on her, catching my weight on my arms. We’re both trembling. Both breathing in ragged gasps. Through the bond, I feel her satisfaction, her amazement, her bone-deep contentment.
“Holy shit…” I gasp.
“Yeah,” I hear her breathe.
For a long moment, we stay like that, connected, our heartbeats syncing. When I finally find the strength to move, I pull out gently, watching with primitive satisfaction as some of my come leaks out of her.
I drop onto the bed beside her and pull her against me, tucking her head under my chin. Her hair tickles my nose, that faint scent of wild honey and magic filling my senses. My hand strokes down her spine, feeling the smooth skin that covers the steel beneath.
A wave of emotion hits me so hard it steals my breath. This woman. This fierce, stubborn, brilliant woman who fought me at every turn, who never yielded until she chose to, who sees me—really sees me—and doesn’t flinch. She’s undone me completely.
“What are you thinking?” she murmurs against my chest.
I swallow hard, my hand continuing its path along her spine. “That I don’t know who I am when I’m with you. And that scares the shit out of me.”
She lifts her head, those violet eyes studying my face. “You’re exactly who you’ve always been,” she says. “You’re just finally letting someone see it.”
