Dangerously honest.
“I’m not used to feeling like this.”
“How do you feel, Alina?”
“Like, I’m wanted,” I whisper, almost afraid to admit it.
Because what if I’m wrong?
What if that hardness pressed against me is simple biology?
My cheeks burn, and I duck my head, but Dagan’s fingers are there, on my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his.
“I want you, Oona. I swear it.”
“But do you want me for all of me? Not just for what I can do. But for what I am.”
His gaze sharpens.
He lowers himself until our noses touch, his breath warm against my lips.
“Alina Fawcett,” he says, each word deliberate. “Hear me now. Nothing is at is seems in Nightfall, but this you can count on,” he growls, eyes burning with something I’m almost afraid to name.
“I, Dagan, Lord of Earth, want your mind. Your stubbornness. The way you argue with every fault line like it personally offended you.” His hand slides to my hip, gripping, not hard, just claiming. “I want your laughter, your fury, the way you run toward danger instead of away from it.”
His eyes burn.
“And yes,” he adds, voice dropping, “I want every inch of this luscious, fertile body more than my next breath.”
My lungs forget how to work for a second.
The zareth between us pulses, a bright, thrumming tether along my spine, humming in time with the earth.
“But will you still want me in the morning?” I ask, half teasing, half raw.
He makes a sound that’s almost a snarl.
“Especially in the morning,” he growls. “You are not a passing tremor, Oona. You are a fault I will spend the rest of my life exploring.”
“Dagan,” I whisper, helplessly.
He kisses me again, and this time there’s nothing careful about it.
The slow build continues, but it’s coiled now, charged.
His mouth traces a path down my throat, lingering over the place where my pulse flutters like trapped birds.
His teeth scrape there lightly, a promise more than a threat.
I arch into him.
The ground responds, lifting, shifting under me so I’m cradled at just the right angle.
The grass is impossibly soft, like moss, and velvet blended together.
Blossoms cushion my hair, their faint glow bathing us in pale light.
The air is sweet with the scent of freshly packed earth, flowers, and clean grass.
