“You’re leaving,” he growled, the beast’s voice bleeding through. “You told me yourself. You need to go back, to fight your aunt, to reclaim your company. And when you do, you won’t?—”
“Won’t what?” She was right in front of him now, so close he could smell her scent—that intoxicating mix of sweetness and warmth that had haunted him since the first moment he’d caught it. “Won’t remember you? Won’t miss you? Won’t spend every day wishing I could come back to this cabin and?—”
“Won’t want me.” The admission ripped out of him, brutal and honest. “You’re an heiress. I’m an exile. In what world does someone like you choose someone like me?”
Her eyes widened. For a moment, she was utterly still. Then she did something he never expected.
She laughed.
It wasn’t cruel laughter, not the mocking kind he feared. It was incredulous, almost hysterical, the laugh of someone who had just discovered the punchline to a terrible joke.
“You think I’m going to leave you because of status?” She shook her head, still laughing, tears still streaming. “You think I care about inheritance or social position or any of that poison? Rykan, I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by people who only saw what I was, not who I was. They looked at me and saw Duvain money, Duvain connections, Duvain power. And you—” She pressed her hand flat against his chest, right over his pounding heart. “You’ve never once asked me about any of it. You treat me like a person. Like someone real. Do you have any idea how rare that is?”
He couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe. Her hand burned against his skin, heat bleeding through his shirt like a brand.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I have to leave. There’s a difference. I know this is your home, your territory. This is the life you fought so hard to build, away from everything that hurt you.”
He wanted to explain. He wanted to find the words to tell her that territory meant nothing without someone to share it. That he would burn this cabin to the ground and walk into enemy territory if it meant keeping her safe. That she had become more essential to him than any piece of land or any claim of ownership.
But he had never been good with words. And right now, with her standing so close, his heart beating against his palm where he’d unconsciously placed his hand over hers, words seemed entirely inadequate.
So he kissed her instead. He took her mouth like a man drowning, like she was the only air he would ever breathe again. His hands tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to give him better access. She gasped against his lips and he swallowed the sound, pressing deeper, harder, claiming every breath she would give him.
She kissed him back with equal desperation. Her small hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, and when his tongue swept into her mouth she moaned and the sound sent fire racing down his spine.
The beast roared in triumph.Yes. Ours. Finally, ours.
He walked her backwards without breaking the kiss, guiding her with hands that shook with barely contained need. When her back hit the wall, he pressed into her, letting her feel exactly how much he wanted her. She gasped again and arched against him, and the sensation nearly destroyed what remained of his control.
“Rykan,” she whispered as she pulled at his shirt, fumbling with the fastenings, and when her fingers finally found bare skin he groaned against her mouth.
He didn’t remember removing her clothing. One moment she was dressed, the next she was bare in his arms, her skin like cream in the firelight. He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her to the furs near the hearth.
She was so soft. So impossibly, unbearably soft. He laid her down and covered her with his body, drowning in the sensation of her warmth beneath him. His mouth found her throat, and he bit down gently—not enough to mark, not yet, but enough to make her cry out and clutch his shoulders.
“Please,” she breathed. “Rykan, please?—”
He didn’t know if that’s what she was asking for, but every instinct screamed at him to claim her, to mark her, to bind her to him so completely that she could never leave. She lay beneath him in nothing but firelight, and he thought he might die from the sight of her.
“Beautiful,” he growled, the word rough and reverent. “You’re so beautiful.”
She blushed—actually blushed, the color spreading from her cheeks down her throat to her chest. Her hands moved to cover herself, sudden shyness overcoming her earlier boldness, but he caught her wrists and pinned them gently above her head.
“Don’t hide from me.” He kissed her again, softer this time, worshipful. “Never hide from me.”
He released her wrists and let his hands explore her body, learning every curve, every hollow, every sensitive spot that made her gasp and arch against him. When he closed his mouth over her breast, her back arched off the furs, and he took his time, teasing and tasting until she convulsed beneath him.
He slid lower, pressing kisses along her stomach, her hips, her thighs. He spread her open with reverent hands, and when he swirled his tongue around her clit, she cried out so loudly that a surge of primal satisfaction filled him. He wanted to hear that sound again. He wanted to be the only one who ever heard it.
She bucked against his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair, and when he worked a finger into her, stroking deep, she shattered. He watched her face as she came, watched the pleasure wash over her, and something in his chest cracked wide open.
He moved up her body, covering her again, and kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She was still trembling from her climax, her body warm and receptive, but when he settled between her thighs, she suddenly tensed.
“I’ve never…” she started, then stopped, embarrassment coloring her voice. “I don’t know what to?—”
“I know.” He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. “We don’t have to. If you’re not ready?—”
“I’m ready.” She caught his face in her hands and held his gaze fiercely. “I want this. I want you. I’m just… nervous.”
