Ramona reached out and very carefully and determinedly wrapped her fingers around the thread.
This time, instead of passing through, her hand closed around something solid. Warm and smooth, like sun-heated metal, but alive somehow. Pulsing with energy.
“You’re touching it,” Zara breathed.
“I can feel it.” Ramona tugged gently.
Zara gasped, stumbling forward a step. Her hand flew to her chest.
“Sorry!” Ramona let go immediately.
“No, it’s—” Zara’s eyes were very wide. “Do it again.”
Ramona gripped the thread again. Pulled, just slightly.
Zara moved toward her like she was being reeled in. Not forced — there was no resistance, no struggle. Just smooth, inevitable motion until they were standing close enough that Ramona could feel the supernatural heat of Zara’s skin.
“Does it hurt?” Ramona whispered.
“No.” Zara’s voice had dropped, her hands finding Ramona’s hips.
Ramona tugged again, more firmly this time. The golden tether didn’t just pull Zara closer. It seemed to contract, the light thickening until the distance between them evaporated. Zara let out a jagged breath, her hands sliding from Ramona’s hips to her waist, squeezing with a possessive strength that made Ramona’s head light.
The air in the bedroom was suddenly too heavy to breathe. The familiar scent of Zara — smoke and a heady, dark oud — swirled around Ramona, thick enough to taste. She angled her face up to watch Zara’s concentration break.
“Ramona,” Zara warned, her voice a low, vibrating growl that settled deep in Ramona’s belly. She leaned down to claimRamona’s mouth in a deep kiss, pulling Ramona’s lower lip into her mouth with her teeth.
After a moment, Ramona broke away and looked at the golden cord, then back at Zara’s curious, open expression. “You said it was a trust exercise, right?”
Ramona backed Zara toward the bed, and Zara went willingly, her eyes never leaving Ramona’s. When the back of Zara’s knees hit the mattress, she sat, and Ramona was over her in an instant, straddling her lap.
The tether was coiled between them now, a glowing, pulsing mass of energy. Ramona grabbed the slack. Her heart was hammering, but her hands were sure. She took the golden light — this physical manifestation of the mess they’d made of their lives — and looped it around Zara’s wrists.
“What are you doing?” Zara asked, her breath hitching as Ramona pulled her arms upward.
“Testing the bond,” Ramona whispered. She pulled the cord taut, knotting it around the wooden slats of the headboard. To her shock, the magical light behaved exactly like rope. It knotted with a firm, golden glow, anchoring Zara’s hands above her head.
Zara tested the restraint, her muscles rippling beneath the skin of her arms. The headboard creaked ominously. “You’ve tied a demon to your bed with her own tether, Mortal. Bold choice.”
“You like it,” Ramona countered, leaning in until their noses brushed. She began to grind her hips against Zara’s thigh, the friction of their jeans a torturous barrier.
Zara groaned, a sound wrenched from her chest.
They moved together in a frantic, messy rhythm. Ramona’s hands were everywhere — mapping the heat of Zara’s neck, pulling at the hem of the hoodie, tracing the sharp lines of her collarbone. Zara was bucking beneath her, her bound handsstraining against the golden light, her teeth bared in a grin. The heat radiating from Zara was staggering now, a dry, searing fever that seemed to melt the very air.
But the friction wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
The heat coming off Zara wasn’t just physical anymore. It felt like standing too close to an open furnace. As Ramona slid down the bed, her knees hitting the floor with a soft thud, the golden tether stretched taut, humming a low, resonant note that vibrated in Ramona’s very bones.
Zara’s head hit the pillow, her throat arched, exposing the frantic pulse jumping under the skin of her neck. “Ramona,” she said.
“You can’t stand the idea of not being in control,” Ramona teased as she pulled off Zara’s pants. “But I bet you’re soaking wet from it anyway.”
She parted Zara’s legs, her hands running up the length of Zara’s calves and thighs. Zara’s inner thighs radiated a deep, core-level heat that seemed to pulse in time with the golden cord above.
“You’re stunning,” Ramona said, leaning in to draw her tongue over Zara’s slick heat.
When Ramona finally made contact, the world narrowed down to the taste of salt and electricity. Zara’s entire body jolted, a jagged, broken sound tearing from her throat. It wasn’t just a physical reaction — the golden tether flared a brilliant, blinding white, illuminating the room in sharp, flickering bursts.
