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Angel’s fingers traced the slick path he’d made, circling my hole with deliberate slowness. I bit my lip, hips twitching, but he just smirked. “Patience.” His voice was rough, the word a whisper against my skin.

“You have the finest ass I’ve ever seen, you know that?” His grin was all sin, teeth flashing as his gaze raked over me. The words sent a shiver down my spine, but I arched a brow.

“And yet you’re not fucking it.”

He rolled his hips forward, the hard length of his cock trapped between us, grinding against my balls with slow, deliberate pressure. The friction was maddening, the slick drag of skin, the weight of him pressing down, the way his breath hitched when I gasped. His voice dropped to a growl. The heat of him, the promise of him, had my pulse roaring. “Good things come to those who wait.”

He rocked forward, the friction a slow, relentless tease, each drag of his cock against me pulling a desperate sound from my throat. My fingers twisted in the sheets, body trembling with the need for more.

“You love hearing me beg,” I groaned.

Angel paused, his breath hot against my neck. “I love hearing you at all,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. “Sarcasm, snark, sexy gasps—” His hips shifted, the angle changing, and then—fuck—he pressed in, the first inch of him stretching me open, gliding inside with one hard lunge. My breath hitched, body tensing for a second before melting into it. The burn was sharp and divine as his heat drove into me. Exactly what I’d begged for.

A broken sound spilled from my lips, as I sank my fingers into his hair, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw him closer.

Angel groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. “Fuck, Jude. The way you grip me…” His hips met mine and we were connected, the weave of our tattoos pulsing in time with the thud of my heart.

I exhaled, my body adjusting to the fullness, the rightness of him inside me. When I finally found my voice, it was ragged. “Move.”

Angel peppered my face with kisses, each one soft, reverent—infuriating. I wanted to smack him for hesitating. He might worry he was hurting me, but I wanted it hard and fast. Needed the proof of him, the burn, the edge of pain that would make this real.

“Angel,” I growled, my nails biting into his shoulders. “I’m not glass. I won’t break.”

His breath stuttered, and for a second, I saw the flicker of restraint in his eyes. Then, thank fuck, his hips snapped back before slamming into me. The impact stole my breath, my body jolting with the force of it. A broken sound tore from my throat, not pain, not quite, but the relief of finally getting what I’d begged for. Him inside me, carving a path directly with his dick into my soul.

Angel groaned, his rhythm building, each thrust deeper, harder. “Fuck, Jude—” His voice was rough, strained, like he was holding back by a thread. “You feel like—” He didn’t finish. Just gripped my hips tighter and fucked me, the way I’d demanded.

I saw stars. Literal stars, the room spinning, the world narrowing to the point where we were joined. He was slow at first, careful, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. But I was fine. I was more than fine. I was whole, and he sped up, slamming hard, grinding and then withdrawing to do it again.

The room blurred with heat and motion, the sound of skin slapping skin, my ragged breaths, Angel’s guttural groans. Every thrust sending sparks through me, the friction between us building to something unbearable. I could feel him everywhere, his cock buried deep, his hands branding my hips, his breath hot against my neck. I could have lived in that moment for eternity, let him wear me around like the most explicit jewelry, not caring about the world’s judgment as he hit my prostate every few thrusts and made me gasp. The bond flared between us, red and gold and bright, and I felt everything he felt, his desire, his hunger, his love, all for me.

“Close—so close—” I breathed, my cock aching as he reached between us to take it in hand, and squeeze a careful stroke. “Oh, fuck.”

Angel growled, his rhythm stuttering. “Let go, baby.” His voice was rough, commanding. “Come for me.” And the world fell away—the battle, the Veil, the death, the pain. All of it gone. All of it replaced by him, by us, by the steady rhythm of two bodies finally reunited.

A broken cry tore from my throat as pleasure crashed over me. My cock spilled between us and over his hand, hot and messy, my body clenching around him as the orgasm wrung me out. Angel groaned, his hips faltering, and then he was coming too, his release pulsing inside me with wetness and heat as he buried his face against my shoulder, breathing hard.

We stayed like that, tangled and breathless, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress. His heart pounded against my chest, or maybe it was mine—I couldn’t tell. Didn’t want to. I was alive, and no matter what might have happened in the past, what memories returned, he was mine. He loved me. And I was his in every possible way.

Angel finally lifted his head, his dark eyes soft, his lips brushing mine. “Mine,” he murmured, like it was the only word he remembered.

I huffed a laugh, my body still trembling. “Yours.”

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like enough.

“So,” he said. “Real married.”

I laughed. “Real married.”

“Does that mean we have to do the whole ceremony thing?”

“Ugh. If we must.” I wrinkled my nose. “But I’m not wearing white. I’d look like a ghost. Again. And that’s offensive to actual ghosts.”

“You’d look beautiful in anything.”

“Cheesy.”

“You’d look good covered in cheese too.”