“You’re shaking,” I say, kissing the corner of her mouth as my fingers tease and stroke exactly where she needs. “Is it fear, Oona?”
She lets out a broken laugh that melts into a sigh. “You know it’s not.”
“What is it then?” I press because I want to hear it.
I need to hear her say it.
“Need,” she gasps. “You. I need you.”
The words rob me of breath.
I work her with slow, sure strokes, drawing her up, higher and higher.
Her hips strain against the vines, her back arches, her head tips back as her moans grow more desperate and far less controlled.
“That’s it,” I praise, my own control fraying. “Let go for me.”
Her body tightens, thighs quivering around my hand. The moment she shatters, the air changes—the ground beneath us gives a pleased, low rumble, the stone of the shelter’s ceiling shimmering with faint, earthen light.
The zareth bond flares.
I feel it—our connection pulsing bright and fierce between us, like molten metal poured into a waiting mold. Her pleasure rushes through me, magnified, reflected, claimed and cherished all at once.
And I can’t wait anymore. I need to feel her hot, slick heat surrounding me. So, I move swiftly, joining our bodies in the most basic and profound way—just like the Fates and the multiverse intended.
“Oona,” I groan, barely able to think as her release crests and ebbs. “You undo me.”
She blinks up at me, dazed, lips flushed, cheeks pink.
“Good,” she whispers hoarsely. “You undo me too.”
I free her wrists from the vines with a thought.
She immediately reaches for me, fingers sinking into my shoulders, dragging me down until our foreheads touch, our noses brush, our breaths tangle.
“I don’t want any distance between us,” she whispers, firm despite the tremor in her voice. “No more lying. Not even by omission. Not even to myself.”
“No more lying,” I echo, and I roll my hips because I can’t not move.
“Dagan,” she breathes my name like it’s a prayer, “I love it when you touch me. And I-I need to touch you too. That alright with you, my viyen?”
I huff a ragged laugh, brushing my mouth over hers in a soft, aching kiss that promises a hundred more.
“Fuuuck. You bargain with a Lord of Earth while naked and still trembling from my touch, Oona. That is reckless.”
“Is that a no?” she challenges, eyes sparking.
“It is,” I murmur, cupping her face, “the easiest yes I have ever given in my life.”
The Marches hum beneath us in agreement.
And as I lower myself over her, lining up every inch of our bodies, pushing deeper inside her slick heat, letting her feel what she’s done to me in every tremble and nerve ending, one truth roots itself deep and immovable.
What began as a bargain to save Nightfall has become the one thing that might finally save me.
I withdraw almost completely, and she groans at the loss. Then, I push my hips forward hard and fast, and fuck, how she welcomes me.
It’s like nothing else I’ve ever felt.
