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His eyes darken, but not with anger.

His hand tries to reach my cheek, but he pauses midway.

It’s not anger swirling in his eyes. No, this is hunger. Heat.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he growls, his voice thick.

I do.

Because I feel the same way.

One minute, we are trying to stop the crackling bond pulling between us like tides to the shore, and the next minute, his lips crash onto mine, and it’s not soft.

It’s not sweet.

It’s raw, it’s frantic, a rough kiss that devours my air and replaces it with him.

He tastes like fury and desperation and something sweeter underneath that I can only call mine. Mine, all mine.

I gasp when he lifts me, laying me back onto the bed like I’m sacred, even though nothing about what we’re about to do is pure.

Nothing I'm thinking about doing to this man is pure, because Goddess forgive me, I have never wanted him like I want him right now.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants, mouth hovering above my collarbone. “If you need me to. I will. No matter how much I want you.”

I thread my fingers through his hair and arch into him, my core pulsing with need. “Don’t stop.”

Never stop.

And he doesn’t because the clothes come off in moments.

His clothes hit the floor, my dress, bra, and panties go next, until we eventually meet skin to skin. And Alaric Hells shows me how much he wants me.

It’s in the way he worships every inch of me with his hands and mouth. The way his lips linger on the curve of my hip like he’s branding me with something deeper than touch.

And the bond.

Goddess, the bond.

It’s humming through me like a song that only I know the lyrics to. Every brush of his fingers, every hitch in his breath pulls me closer to something terrifying, something teetering off the ledge of a cliff. I want to run from it, and yet I can’t stop falling into him.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, voice rough as he kisses my jaw.

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

He pauses, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye. His thumb strokes my cheek, so gently it makes me ache.

“So am I.”

That breaks me. Not because it's a weakness, but because it’s the truth.

I’m scared this might turn out to be like last time, when he called me a gold digger, but he’s scared of losing me, right?

I wrap my legs around him, guiding him closer to me. Guiding his cock where it belongs. Inside me.

“Alaric,” I breathe, and he shudders.

“I’ve got you, wild one,” he says, again, like it’s a promise. “You’re safe. With me.”