"I'll never let you go." His voice is fierce. It's certain. "You're mine now. Completely. You understand that?"
"Yes."
"Say it. Say you're mine."
"I'm yours." I hold his gaze. "And you're mine."
He kisses me hard. He's making his claim. His hands fist in my hair. When he pulls back, his eyes are burning. "I love you. I'm keeping you. No matter what happens. No matter who comes for us. You're mine and I'm not giving you up."
There's no doubt in his voice. There's no uncertainty. There's no worry about corrupting me or destroying me. He's stating fact. He's making his claim on what's his. This is the man I fell in love with. He's dark. He's possessive. He's completely certain of what he wants.
"Good." I pull him closer. "Because I'm not leaving. Ever."
"Ever." He agrees against my mouth.
Kisses me again and this time there's no space for words. His hands are on me. Rough. Possessive. Claiming every inch. My hands are on him, feeling the solid muscle, the warmth, and the strength that killed three men today to keep me safe.
We're alive. We're together. We're committed to whatever comes next.
Tomorrow we'll figure out the evidence. Plans. Future.
Tonight, we have this. Tonight, I'm his and he's mine and nothing else matters.
His mouth trails down my neck. His teeth graze the spot where my pulse pounds. I feel the scrape of his stubble and the heat of his breath. "Mine," he growls against my skin.
"Yours," I breathe back. I mean it. Every syllable.
He lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist. Strong. Steady. Carries me toward the bed like I weigh nothing. Eyesnever leaving mine. Dark. Hungry. Possessive in ways that should terrify me.
They don't.
"Show me," I tell him. Voice rough. Needy. "Show me I'm yours."
His smile is wicked. Dangerous. Perfect. "With pleasure."
He lays me on the bed and follows me down. His weight presses me into the mattress. Solid. Real. His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. He’s gentle despite the hunger in his eyes.
"I love you." Voice fierce. Certain. "You're mine. Say it again."
"I'm yours." Arch up against him. "Completely yours."
"Damn right you are." His mouth crashes down on mine, claiming and devouring me. His hands move over me, peeling away the layers. Cold air hits my skin before the heat of his body covers mine. We're skin to skin with nothing between us.
His hands map every curve, every hollow, learning and memorizing me. His possessive touch leaves fire in its wake. I do the same, exploring the hard planes of his muscles and the scars—the evidence of violence written on his skin. This is what he is. Dangerous. Deadly. Mine.
"I'm never letting you go." His breath is hot against my ear. "Never. Do you understand?"
"Yes." My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. "I don't want you to."
He takes me apart slowly, deliberately, watching every reaction, every gasp, every shiver. He's learning what makes me moan, what makes me beg. Control and hunger war in his expression.
"Magnus." His name is a plea, a demand, a promise.
"I've got you." His voice is dark and rough. "I've got you, baby. I'm right here."
Then he's inside me and the world narrows to just this—the thick stretch, the burning fullness. My body adjusts to accommodate him. He stills, letting me feel every inch, waiting, controlled even now.
"Move." I barely recognize my own voice—needy and desperate. "Please, Magnus."
