I focused on her clit, tongue moving in relentless circles, and slid two fingers inside her. She was tight and wet and perfect, clenching around me.
"Atlas!"
She shattered.
Her climax tore through her in waves, body convulsing, a broken scream ripping from her throat. The shadows went wild, the bond singing so loudly I could barely breathe through it.
I worked her through it, gentling my movements as she trembled and gasped, until she was pulling weakly at my hair. When I finally lifted my head, she was staring at me with glazed eyes, chest heaving.
I pulled her back into the water, into my arms, and she collapsed against me, boneless and shaking.
"Gods," she whispered against my neck.
I held her close, pressing kisses to her temple, her cheek, anywhere I could reach. The bond hummed contentedly between us now, satisfied and warm.
We stayed like that for a long moment, just breathing together.
Then she lifted her head, a small smile playing at her lips despite the flush still coloring her cheeks.
"We should handle the goat," she whispered.
I groaned. "I would rather stay here."
Her laugh echoed against my throat, bright and soft and addicting.
"We'll come back," she promised.
And gods help me, I believed her.
Chapter 27
The Fracture
ATLAS
The midmorning sun spilled across the balcony, scattering sharp silver over the restless sea below. Waves rolled and recoiled against the cliffs in tight, agitated spirals, as if the tide itself had woken with something to say. Mist drifted through the open doorway, cool and briny, settling against my skin with the faintest prickle of warning.
Caelira stepped into that light as though it had been waiting for her.
Her hair was still damp from the bath, curling in loose waves down her back. My tunic hung soft and oversized on her frame, brushing the tops of her thighs in a way that stole every rational thought from me. Her skin held the warm flush of steam and shared heat, the kind of glow that came from a night, and morning, well spent. She looked peaceful, content. Almost unguarded.
And then the shadows moved.
A thin ribbon of darkness slid across the floorboards, fluid as spilled ink, gliding toward her ankle with deliberate purpose. Not mine. Not summoned. Not even coaxed. I felt the wrongness before I understood it, before my breath lodged in my throat and my pulse turned sharp with disbelief.
The shadow touched her.
Lightly. Curiously. Like a creature scenting someone it already knew.
I went rigid.
The darkness curled again, looping around her ankle in a soft, sinuous embrace. Another tendril rose from the floor, slow, reverent, almost greeting her. Caelira looked down, brow lifting in quiet wonder.
“They’re… soft,” she murmured, as though she were describing velvet instead of ancient magic.
“They shouldn’t be doing that,” I said, the words scraping out rougher than I intended.
She lifted her head. “Why not?”
