Emotion slams into me, hot as his body, fierce as his power.
“I-I mean it, Thorne,” I whisper, the words ripping right out of my chest. “I love you.”
There. It’s out.
No taking it back. No pretending it’s anything less.
For a heartbeat, the world narrows to his face—those ember eyes widening, flaring like someone fed fresh coal to the fire inside him.
His next thrust falters, just once, like the confession knocked him off balance.
Then he groans, low and wrecked, and buries his face against my neck.
His lips move over my skin, finding my mark, breathing me in like I’m the only air he trusts.
“My viyella,” he says, the title reverent and raw. “My Shula. You understand I will never let you go now, don’t you?”
His words vibrate against my throat, sinking straight into my pulse.
My eyes sting. Tears blur the ceiling into streaks of shadow and gold. My legs tighten around his waist, drawing him even deeper, anchoring us together like I can weld our bodies into one.
“Good,” I manage, voice breaking. “Because I’ll never let you go.”
Something in him snaps at that—beautifully, gloriously.
His rhythm changes, not rougher exactly, but more intense, more determined, like every thrust is a vow he’s hammering into place.
“Mine,” he pants against my mouth, kissing me between the word and the next breath.
“My brave, beautiful Shula. My heart. My flame. Say it again.”
“I love you,” I choke out, the words dissolving into a moan as pleasure climbs sharp and fast, rushing through me like a tidal wave of molten light.
“Thorne, I love you?—”
The bond between us flares, bright as lightning. I swear I feel it, a rush of fire and something softer threading itself between our hearts, our souls, sewing us together with invisible, unbreakable stitches.
The pressure inside me snaps.
I shatter around him, crying out his name as my whole body arches, trembles, breaks—but in the best way, the only way that’s ever felt right.
Every nerve explodes, every muscle clenches, and all I can feel is him—us—that wild, perfect collision of love and need.
Thorne roars my name, his body driving deep once, twice, then holding there as he follows me over the edge, shaking with the force of it.
I feel him lose control, feel the last of his restraint burn away as he surrenders with me.
For a long moment, there’s no Nightfall. No SoulTakers. No wars.
Just his weight covering me, his chest heaving against mine, our hearts hammering in the same wild rhythm.
He nuzzles into my neck, his voice a hoarse rasp against my skin.
“You are my greatest sin,” he whispers, “and my only salvation.”
I smile, tears slipping sideways into my hair.
“Good,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around him, holding him as tightly as he’s holding me. “Because you’re mine, too.”
