Ezra’s hands slide up my thighs. His fingers flex as he exhales a shaky breath, his lips curling in a wolfish smirk.
“You want me to take what’s mine, darling?” he growls, every word shaking as he holds back something ancient and ravenous. “Then fucking watch me.”
He thrusts into me, splitting me open, his shadows snarling against my skin. No longer waiting. No longer still.
Ezra’s mouth grazes my throat, then drags lower with a scrape of teeth.
“This sweet, perfect little cunt”? he groans, burying himself deep, hips grinding slow as he stakes his claim.
“Mine.”
He licks a line across my breast, biting down just hard enough to make me gasp.
“These tits?Mine.”
He cups my ass, fingers sliding back to tease me where I’m weakest.
“This tight, untouched little hole?” His tongue flicks my earlobe.
“Mine. And when I finally take you here, when I stretch you open and mark you where no one else ever has?”
He growls against my throat, biting hard enough to make me gasp.
“That’s when you’ll be mine. Completely. Every nerve. Every inch. Every goddamn breath.”
Then his voice drops lower, scraped raw by centuries of prudence.
“This body. This soul. This firestorm of a woman who would level the world just to protect what’s hers?”
Ezra’s gaze meets mine, each word carved with consecration so deep it borders on madness.
“Nirea.”
The shadows twitch around us. They felt the promise, too.
“I told you I would never let you go. And I meant it.”
His grip tightens on my hips. Shadows curl around me as his vows claw their way across my skin, leaving a fever in their wake.
“I’ll take care of you. Pleasure you. And I will stand by your side as you burn through this wretched world.”
Ezra’s shadows pulse, curling tighter around my wrists and my thighs. Another slides up my spine, tracing the path his tongue left on my neck.
They don’t just bind me. They worship me.
I know he belongs to me. He doesn’t have to say it.
His body, his devotion … every shadow, every whispered vow has already given him away.
Ezra’s hands wrap tightly around my hips again, just before he flips me onto my hands and knees. His hand gathers at the back of my head, then presses my face to the bed while my ass remains in the air.
I can feel his shadows hesitate. They hover at the nape of my neck, not hesitant, but waiting. This moment belongs to them, too.
Ezra trails a finger down my spine, stopping between my shoulder blades. The touch is firm and possessive, dragging heat through something that doesn’t feel like it’s mine anymore. His shadows tighten, curling up my ribs, drawn to the spot with the certainty of something remembered.
“Jézus. Kurva. Krisztus…”Ezra traces the pattern again, shadows tightening. “Moya.”
My head feels heavy, off-balance.
