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Something dangerous. Something I have to beat into submission before it beats me.

But standing here in my mind’s eye, there is no battle.

For the first time in years, my Devil is calm. More than calm.

He’s satisfied. Whole.

Mine.

Belinda.

Memory rushes through me.

Her underneath me.

Golden magic sparking against my skin.

Those warm brown eyes staring up at me without fear.

Her scent.

Her trust.

Her hands holding on to me when any sensible woman should have been running in the opposite direction.

And then⁠—

My teeth sinking into her.

The claiming bite.

I knew what I was doing.

Maybe not up here.

Maybe the rational part of my brain was too consumed by pleasure to acknowledge it.

But my Devil knew.

I knew.

And now there’s no denying what that bite means.

“She’s mine.”

The words echo through the strange darkness.

Power surges in answer.

Not violent.

Not uncontrolled.

Pure.

Hot.

Alive.