"Rhianelle," he warns, voice strained.
I do it again, rolling my hips and clenching around him.
Something in him shifts. I see it in his eyes—the moment his control snaps.
I regret teasing him immediately because he grips my waist and thrusts up hard, stealing the breath from my lungs.
Then again. And again.
His movements become uncontrolled, primal. Each thrust drives deeper, harder, until I'm crying out with every stroke. His arms tighten around my waist like a snake around its prey. Hethrusts faster, harder. It's impossible to keep up. He doesn't stop thrusting into me and he doesn't stop kissing me.
I can't stop the shaking that overtakes me. My body convulses against his as pleasure races through my heavy limbs.
"Oh fuck." He slams in one last time, trembling beneath me as he grunts in release. The feel of him pulsing inside me triggers my own orgasm.
The pleasure crashes over me in waves, pulling me under. I cry out against his neck as my body clenches around him, drawing out his release as mine tears through me. We shudder together, locked in the aftermath, neither of us able to move or speak.
For a long moment, we simply breathe.
His arm rests heavy across my back, anchoring me there. My head settles on his chest, rising and falling as our breathing slowly steadies. The world feels small and contained. It's just the two of us in this fragile pocket of warmth in the Rose room. I trace idle circles over his skin, mapping scars I already know by heart. His fingers comb absently through my hair.
The hunger drains from his eyes by degrees. It doesn’t fade completely, just enough to leave something more human behind.
His hand tightens at my waist.
“Svenn?” I lift my head slightly.
He stares at the ceiling for a long moment before looking down at me.
I watch him, waiting. There's something heavy ruminating in his mind. I can see it in the way his jaw works, the tension in his shoulders. The faelight catches the hard lines of his face and throws shadows across his expression.
Whatever he's about to say, he's weighing every word.
"Rhianelle," he says carefully. "What do you know about the Nightwalker's nature during red eclipses?"
"Blood moon." I'm still a little flustered, my thoughts scattered. "You get stronger."
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, almost rueful. "It's a little more than that."
I shakemy head but I actually I do know. I’m just too embarassed to say it out loud. Debauchery doesn't begin to describe what's in them.
Svenn stares at the ceiling."During an eclipse the beasts inside take over completely. Feeding, violence, hunger, and desire for the entire nights of it. That's what I become."
My breath catches, but I don't interrupt. I watch him wrestle with whatever he's trying to say and I see something I have almost never seen in his face.
Genuine fear.
"The fae partof me bound into the Rhunhraefn, it doesn't understand that I'm undead. During the eclipse it wakes fully.It thinks I'm still capable of doing whatever other fae are doing during Calanmai. It wants a mate.”
Svenn is beingpolite when he says the fae wants to mate. But I understand the paintings in the vaults now. The nights of pure lust.
"Is that why the Strigons took multiple partners in those paintings?" The words escape before I can stop them, accidentally exposing that I do know a little about it.
Svenn smiles softly. "Yes. Except now there is only you. All of it focused on one person. I could break you, Rhianelle."
"I can handle—"
"The fae is not what I'm worried about," he says, his thumb stroking absently along my ribs. "All of the creatures bound to the Rhunhraefn love you."
