I want him closer, always closer, like if I try hard enough our bones might melt together.
Every nerve ending is blazing. Every fear I’ve carried—about this place, about him, about me—drowns beneath the roar of wanting and the fierce, impossible rightness of his body locked with mine.
One thought rises up through the heat, clear and sure, singing through me like a battle cry and a promise all at once.
Whatever this is, however long it lasts—I’m running straight into it.
Into him.
Into this bond—this zareth.
Into us.
He pulls back just far enough to look at me, his hips still pressed flush against mine, his ember-bright irises locking onto my gaze.
His power hums under my palms, wild and contained all at once, because I asked him not to hold back and he listened.
“Stay with me, Shula,” he growls, voice thick, reverent and commanding all at once.
I wrap my legs around his hips, holding him right where I want him, and meet that burning gaze without flinching.
“I’m here,” I whisper, breathless and sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And then I hang on—heart, body, soul—while the Lord of Fire shows me exactly what it means to be his, to be wanted by a Demon Prince without reservations or restraint.
“That’s it, Shula. Open for me. Come for me,” he growls, each thrust hard and sure, like he’s carving the words into my bones.
Heat coils low and tight inside me, a fuse burning down.
My fingers clutch at his shoulders, his biceps, anywhere I can hold on as he moves—deep, relentless, perfect.
The place where his hands grip my hips is scorching, his thumbs digging into my soft flesh like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he lets go for even a breath.
Like he’s branding me.
His.
And God help me—I love it.
I love him.
The realization is familiar, but still it hits sharp and bright—not new, not really, but clearer than ever as my body rides the edge he’s driving me toward.
My chest feels too tight, my heart beating wild against my ribs, trying to reach him from the inside.
“Thorne,” I gasp, my voice shaking. “I?—”
He leans over me, his forehead pressing to mine, sweat-slick skin and heat and the smell of smoke and something that is just him surrounding me completely.
His hips never falter, never slow.
“I see it,” he rasps, voice rough like gravel dragged through embers. “I see everything in your eyes, Shula. Every truth you are too brave and too stubborn to hide. I see what you’re saying without words…”
His breath shudders out, his gaze burning into mine.
“And it humbles me so damn much.”
My throat closes.
