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“Naira,” I groan, her name tearing from my throat like a prayer of deliverance. My hands grip her hips, holding her steady as I press against her again, teasing us both, the friction maddening.

“Fuck me,” she demands, her voice sharp, desperate. Her fingers twist in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to expose my throat. Her teeth sink into my lower lip, sharp and punishing, drawing blood.

The metallic tang floods my mouth, and I growl, the sound vibrating through her as I surge forward, burying my cock inside her in one brutal thrust.

She gasps, her back arching off the ground, her thighs clamping around me like a vice. “Yes,” she hisses, her nails raking down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “Like that. Don’t stop.”

I don’t. I can’t. Every movement is a battle, a collision of need and fury, pleasure and pain.

Her body grips me like a weapon, tight and unrelenting, and I drive into her again and again, each thrust deeper, harder, until the room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, our breaths ragged and mingling in the air.

“Look at me,” I snarl, my voice rough, commanding. Her eyes snap to mine, dark and wild, and I see the same hunger there, the same desperation. “You wanted this. You wanted me.”

“Yes!” Naira screams in a broken voice as she shakes. She’s coming, and I’m becoming undone.

We come together, clashing in ways we never thought possible. Magic explode my mind and I come inside her her pussy milking every drom of my cum.

I lay beside her, panting and sweaty and my legs still shaking. We turn to each other and our gazes lock with emotions we don’t dare to explore.

Nairamy undoing, and so am I to hers.

29

NAIRA

The morning is too quiet.

The kind of quiet that presses against my inside, overflowing and suffocating. It sinks its claws into my skin and doesn’t let go.

I stare at the ceiling, at the flickering candlelight casting long, jagged shadows across the stone.

My limbs feel wrong. Heavy.

Not sore, not bruised—just wrong.

Like something inside me isn’t entirely mine anymore.

Like something is… missing.

I exhale slowly, willing my body to move, to shake off the creeping unease curling in my gut.

But when I shift, I feel him.

The fiery inferno of his skin against mine.

Zephiran is still beside me, one arm thrown over his face, his other hand resting low on my stomach, fingers spread like he means to keep me there.

Shoving him away is the smart choice.

I should slip out of this bed and pretend last night never fucking happened.

But a part of me screams not to.

The stupid part clings to what happened between us.

Slowly, carefully, I shift out from under Zephiran touch, my breath hitching as my bare feet hit the cold stone.

I expect him to wake up.