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I surrender to the sensation, to the intoxicating feeling of being wanted by someone so otherworldly and perfect.
“You were made for me,” he growls, his wings folding tighter around us, sealing us in. “Every part of you—your body, your fire, and your soul. All of it belongs to me.”
“I’m yours,” I promise him, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Only yours.”
“Good. Because I’m never letting you go,” he says, and as we move together in the candlelight, shadows dancing across our skin, I realize that this is what I’ve been searching for all along.
Not freedom. Not escape.
But surrender.
Complete, willing, ecstatic surrender.
