Ramona’s heart was doing something complicated and terrifying in her chest. “Zara?—”
“So if you sabotaged the ritual,” Zara said, meeting her eyes again with something that looked almost like defiance. “Then we both did. And I’m not sorry.”
The last thread of Ramona’s restraint snapped.
She surged forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed Zara like she was drowning and Zara was air. Her hands fisted in Zara’s jacket, pulling her closer, and Zara made a sound — surprise or relief or something desperate — before kissing her back just as fiercely.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was frantic and messy with need. Zara’s hands slid from Ramona’s arms to her waist, then her back, pulling her in until there was no space between them. Ramona’s fingers tangled in Zara’s hair and Zara’s grip tightened and somewhere in the back of Ramona’s mind she knew she should stop, should think, shouldbreathe?—
But Zara’s mouth was hot against hers and her body was solid and real andhere, and Ramona had been wanting this for weeks without letting herself admit it, and now that she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop.
When they finally broke apart — gasping, shaking — Ramona’s back was against a tree she didn’t remember moving toward and Zara was still holding her like she might disappear.
“Oh,” Ramona breathed.
“Yes,” Zara said, her voice wrecked. Her forehead dropped against Ramona’s, their breath mingling in the small space between them. “That.”
The clearing was silent except for their ragged breathing and the rustle of leaves in the wind. Somewhere, a bird started its morning song.
“I’m not sorry about that either,” Ramona whispered.
Zara laughed, low and rough. “Good.”
Ramona kissed her again, hard, like she could make up for lost time through sheer determination. Zara responded immediately, one hand sliding up to cup the back of Ramona’s neck, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks.
“Ramona—” Zara gasped against her mouth, but Ramona cut her off with another kiss, then another, unable to stop now that she’d started. Her hands were everywhere — Zara’s jaw, her shoulders, sliding under the lapels of her jacket— and Zara was making quiet, desperate sounds that were driving Ramona absolutely insane. Zara’s knee parted Ramona’s legs, and she arched into the demon, her back scraping against rough bark, grinding her hips into Zara’s thigh. Zara’s hand tightened on her hip in response, urging her. When Zara’s mouth moved to her jaw, then her neck, her fangs caressing the sensitive skin there, Ramona’s knees nearly gave out.
“Fuck,” Ramona breathed, tilting her head back. “Zara, please?—”
Zara pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes blazing, lips swollen, hair completely destroyed from Ramona’s fingers. She was breathing hard, her usual composure absolutely shattered. The heat of Zara’s body warmed Ramona, making her forget that they were standing outside in the cold at night, even as their breaths fogged the frozen air between them.
“We passed a bed and breakfast at the last exit,” Zara said, her voice rough and low. “I’m not fucking you for the first time against a tree.”
Ramona stared at her, still pinned against the bark, heart racing. “I like trees.”
Zara raised her eyebrows. “I havesomestandards.” But Zara’s hands hadn’t moved from Ramona’s body, contradictingthe attempt at dignity. “And when you finally come for me, you’ll be thankful for a soft and comfortable bed afterwards.”
Ramona was honestly shocked by her ability to continue forming thoughts after such a promise. “Right now?” she asked breathlessly, her hips slowly cresting forward again, chasing the friction that had felt so good just a moment before. “You want to drive to a bed and breakfast right now?”
Zara leaned forward, whispering against Ramona’s mouth, “Unless you’d prefer to wait until we get back to your apartment where your roommates can hear everything through the walls.” Zara’s thumb traced a deliberate line along Ramona’s hip. “Your choice.”
Ramona groaned. “You’re right.”
“I’m always right.” Zara kissed her again, slow and deep, before finally —finally— stepping back. “Car. Now. Before I change my mind about the tree.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The doorto the Bluebell Suite had barely clicked shut before Zara had Ramona pinned against the heavy oak.
They’d startled the front desk clerk with their haste and short answers. Zara had thrown down a black card, saying they’d take “any room, immediately.”
The wood groaned under their combined weight, but the sound was drowned out by the ragged, desperate sound of their breathing. The tether — that invisible, magical cord that had spent three weeks humming with frustration — was now a live wire, sparking and thrashing between them.
“You’re shaking,” Zara murmured. Her hands came up to frame Ramona’s face. Usually, the demon was the picture of control, all sharp lines and purposeful movements. Now, her hair was a disaster from Ramona’s fingers, and her dark eyes were wide, the pupils blown out until only a thin ring of amber remained. Her thumbs traced the line of Ramona’s jaw with a steady, grounding pressure that felt like it was the only thing keeping Ramona from dissolving into the floorboards.
“Adrenaline,” Ramona gasped, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. “And you. It’s mostly you.”
Ramona’s hands found the fabric of Zara’s shirt. She didn’t just want the clothes off — she wanted the barriers gone. She wanted to bridge the gap that the failed ritual had left wide open. Zara didn’t rush, though. Even in her hunger, she was methodical, her fingers working the buttons of Ramona’s coat with a terrifying, steady precision.
