Page 104

I come with her this time, the sound she makes when she falls apart dragging me over the edge, spilling into her with a growl against her shoulder.

My magic curls tight beneath her skin, relentless, intoxicating, drawing every last gasp, every desperate sound from her lips. Her body doesn’t stop writhing against me, her muscles fluttering around my cock, her breath catching every time I push her higher.

She comes again.

And again.

Until she’s wrecked and soft in my arms, her legs shaking, her head falling back against my shoulder, sweat slicking her skin.

I wrap my arm around her waist, holding her upright, my mouth brushing against the shell of her ear.

“There you are,” I murmur, soft now, wicked. “That’s my girl.”

I keep her pinned there, my mouth against her temple, both of us breathing hard, wrecked and wild.

“Look at you,” I murmur, my voice low, wrecked, reverent. “Fucking perfect when you let go.”

Her fingers curl in the front of my shirt, dragging me back down for another kiss, this one softer but no less desperate.

“I missed you like this.”

I smile, slow and sharp, brushing my lips against hers one more time.

“I’ve been right here,” I murmur, voice curling low. “Waiting for you to come back to me.”

When I finally pull back, I don’t let her move far.

I press my mouth to the curve of her shoulder again, softer this time, my voice rough when I murmur, “You needed that.”

She laughs quietly, breathless and ruined, her head turning toward me enough that I can see the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“So did you.”

She’s right.

Luna

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, boots still on, fingers curled tight around the rim of the chipped porcelain mug in my hands. I haven’t touched the tea. I don’t even remember who brought it to me. Probably Ambrose. He’s the only one who doesn’t try to sell me a version of Lucien every time I look away.

The others can’t help themselves.

I spent the entire day choking on it—every sideways glance, every too-casual comment about how Lucien isn’t that bad, how strong he is, how attractive he is, how his jaw could probably slice glass. Half of those words came tumbling out of Silas’s mouth between ridiculous stunts and chaotic grinning like he thought if he said it enough, I’d start to believe him.

The rest of them were just as bad.

Elias’s cringey little side comments. Riven’s pointed silences. Even Orin’s patience, stretched thin in a way that meant he was waiting for me to bend.

It wasn’t about the pillar.

The cathedral, the conversation, the whole bloody day—it was about me. About him. About trying to get me to let go of something that’s still sharp in my chest.

And now I’m here, alone in this room, waiting for one of them to show up like they always do, because none of them know how to leave me alone when I want them to.

But when the knock comes, it isn’t Elias, flustered and grinning with some stupid joke on his tongue.

When I crack the door open, he’s standing there like he doesn’t quite belong in this world, his sharpness dulled by something awkward in the set of his shoulders. And in his arms—a kitten. A mess of black fur and bright, startled eyes peeking out of his coat.

I blink at him, too surprised to hide it. “What the hell is that?”