Not gentle. Not careful. Not the practiced kisses they’d exchanged for audiences or the controlled experiments they’d called “boundaries.” This was the kiss she’d been holding back since the first time his hand touched the small of her back. Since the first time she’d caught him watching her with those ancient, hungry eyes.
He made a sound against her mouth: surprise, relief, surrender. And then his hand tangled in her hair as he pulled her closer. The remaining pillows scattered, tumbling off the bed in soft thuds. She didn’t care. Couldn’t care. Not with his mouth on hers, his fingers threading through her hair, his other hand finding her waist and pulling her against him.
She gasped against his mouth. He deepened the kiss, tasting her like he’d been starving for exactly this.
“The wall,” she managed when they broke for air, both of them breathing hard. “Worst idea ever.”
“Terrible.” He pressed kisses along her jaw, each one sending sparks down her spine. “Whose idea was that?”
“Yours.”
“Clearly I’m an idiot.”
She laughed, the sound turning into a sigh as his mouth found the hollow of her throat. “We’re really doing this?”
He pulled back to look at her. The wanting was still there, burning in his eyes, but beneath it certainty.
“Only if you’re sure.” The words came out ragged. “Only if you want…”
“I want.” She traced the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there, the restraint coiled tight as a spring. “I’m sure. Completely. Entirely.”
He laughed, low and warm, some of the tension easing. “Entirely?”
“Every syllable, counselor.”
He kissed her again, and this time there was no stopping.
His mouth moved to her neck, and she arched into him with a sound that should have embarrassed her but didn’t. Not when his answering groan vibrated against her throat.
“The pajamas,” she gasped. “Too many clothes.”
“Agreed.” His hands found the hem of her silk top. “May I?”
“If you stop to ask permission for every piece of clothing, we’re going to be here all night.”
“Is that a complaint?” He pulled back to look at her, eyes dark with want and amusement.
“It’s a strategic observation.”
“God, I love your lawyer brain.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, as his fingers worked the buttons of her pajama top.
She tugged at his shirt in return, less graceful, catching the fabric on his shoulder. “How do demons— ugh —design clothing with so many?—”
“It’s meant to build anticipation.”
“It’s meant to be annoying.” She finally got it over his head and tossed it somewhere in the direction of the pillow graveyard.
And froze.
There, on the left side of his chest, just over his heart—a sigil she’d never seen before. Intricate lines that seemed to shift in the moonlight, the same blue-black as his true eyes.
“Victor.” Her fingers traced the mark, and it glowed—brilliant azure light pulsing under her touch.
He inhaled sharply. “Ava?—”
Her own mark flared in response, silver-bright and warm. She could feel them resonating, two tuning forks struck in harmony.
“What is this?” She looked up at him.
