“You still are.”
He pressed harder along her back, his breath sweeping hot across her shoulder.
“Do you trust me?”
“With everything,” she whispered.
His hand slid from her waist to her hip.
“I want to try something else that’s new.”
She glanced back at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
“What?”
He didn’t answer.
His palm settled over her heart, and she knew—just as she had in the forest with his sling, when his power had steadied her aim—that something more was about to break loose.
“You promised you wouldn’t—”
“Not unless you asked,” he said, the words brushing heat across her skin.
“Ask me, Ami.”
Her pulse hammered.
Her throat tightened around the breath she couldn’t catch.
A single heartbeat, then:
“Do it.”
The power came like a tide—hot, blinding, unstoppable—rushing through her until every nerve burned bright. She gasped, knees weakening beneath her.
“Dask—” He clenched his jaw, fighting to bear it. His hands roamed helplessly over her body, grasping, searching, aching as though he could bind himself in her flesh.
Something shifted.
Her head tipped, breath catching again—but this time for an entirely different reason.
“Viktor…”
She felt him. Not his hands. Not his body.Him. The raw, unfiltered thrum of his desire, surging through her veins like lightning made liquid. It scorched, it consumed, it claimed.
Her gasp broke into a stunned, breathless laugh.
“I can feel you.”
He froze, eyes darkening.
“You can feel me?”
“I can—
I want—
Dask—
