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My instincts kick in. Fast. Brutal. Absolute.
I catch her wrist before she lands another hit, twisting her body with the force of her movement, sending her spinning,
But she twists with it.
A sharp pivot. A shift of weight. And suddenly,
She’s pressed against me.
Too close.
Too much.
I feel it all at once, the shape of her body against mine, the press of her hips, the sharp inhale she takes when she realizes what she’s done, what she’s walked straight into.
My grip on her wrist tightens.
Her pulse races beneath my fingertips. The air between us shrinks into nothing. She lifts her chin, her breath a whisper against my jaw, and fuck me, she’s staring at my mouth.
I don’t know who moves first. Maybe she tilts her head up. Maybe I lean down. Maybe it’s the bond, the pull, the unbearable fucking ache of wanting her and hating that I do.
But then,
Her lips brush mine.
A barely-there touch, soft and devastating. A quiet, unspoken challenge.
And I shatter. I claim her mouth like she’s already mine. One hand fists into her hair, pulling her deeper, harder, rougher because she started this, but I will finish it.
Her lips part on a gasp, and I take it, swallowing the sound, pouring every ounce of rage, of longing, of resistance and surrender into the way I kiss her.
She meets me with equal ruin.
Teeth. Tongue. Hands grasping at my shirt, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away, like she knew, she knew, I wouldn’t stop this, that I would cave, that this was inevitable.
Her hands burn against my skin.
She pushes my shirt up, fingers dragging over the ridges of my stomach, and I let her. The fabric bunches at my ribs, and I yank it over my head, tossing it somewhere behind me, already reaching for her.
But Luna’s faster. She grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it off in one smooth motion, and fuck,
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
Because she’s standing there, bare from the waist up, the firelight carving shadows over her curves, over the smooth, dangerous expanse of her body, and the bond, that cursed, relentless fucking thing, howls inside me.
It wants. I want. But it’s more than that. It’s worse than that.
Because I’ve spent so long resenting this connection, raging against it, rejecting it, cursing whatever gods tied me to her,
And now?
Now, I think it might break me.
Her gaze flicks up to mine, dark and knowing, and that look alone is enough to ruin me.
I exhale hard, dragging a hand over my jaw, forcing myself to find my voice, to hold on to what little restraint I have left.
“Luna.” It comes out rough, shattered, and I don’t know if it’s a warning or a plea.