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I suck her clit between my lips, flicking my tongue against her in a rhythm that makes her breath stutter, makes her legs tremble against my shoulders. Her fingers tighten, her hips grinding against my mouth now, chasing that edge I refuse to let her have.

Until I do.

Until I slide my fingers back inside her and keep my mouth on her until she shatters, her body shaking beneath me, her thighs pressing tight around my head as she comes undone.

I drag my mouth up her body, kissing her stomach, her chest, until I’m back at her mouth, swallowing her moans like I’ll starve without them.

I grind my hips against her, slow and filthy, and growl against her lips, "You ready for me now, little Sin?"

Luna’s eyes are heavy-lidded when I look down at her, her mouth swollen from my kiss, her thighs still trembling where they cradle me. She’s the picture of ruin, and it should make me pull away—should remind me of all the reasons I’ve fought this, fought her. But it doesn’t.

I drag my hand down her body, slow, reverent, settling on her hip and gripping it tight. My cock throbs painfully againsther thigh, and when I shift, sliding the blunt head against her slick entrance, she gasps and arches for me like she’s already forgotten how to breathe without me.

I sink into her slowly, deliberately, letting her feel every inch. Her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting on a strangled sound that punches straight through me like a blade.

"Fuck, you feel—" I grit the words out between my teeth as her heat drags me deeper, until I’m fully seated inside her, her walls fluttering around me like she’s trying to pull me even deeper. "So fucking tight."

She’s already wrecked beneath me, and I haven’t even started.

I lean in, pressing my forehead against hers, my breath shallow. "You wanted to help me home, sweetheart," I murmur darkly, rocking my hips slow, deep, "but I don’t think you knew what you were inviting in."

Her fingers curl around the back of my neck, pulling me closer until her lips graze mine. "I knew," she breathes, her voice a soft, dangerous thing.

I snap my hips forward, harder now, and the sound she makes is a curse disguised as a moan. Her nails dig into my back, her legs wrapping tight around my waist like she’s afraid I’ll leave her.

I won’t.

Not tonight.

I move faster, grinding into her with bruising rhythm, and her body meets me every time, desperate, greedy. She’s panting now, her eyes glazed, her mouth falling open around the sounds I drag from her. Every thrust is a declaration, a threat, a promise.

"You’re mine like this," I snarl against her mouth, swallowing her whimper. "No one else will ever get you like this."

Her walls clench around me, and I know she’s close. I drop one hand between us, circling her clit with ruthless precision, and her hips buck wildly beneath me.

"Come for me," I order, my voice rough and low. "Come while I’m inside you."

She shatters beneath me, her body tightening around me like a vice, and I follow her over the edge with a guttural curse, burying myself so deep she’ll feel me for days. I don’t stop moving until the tremors ease, until her breath slows, until her nails soften against my back.

Only then do I collapse against her, my lips at her throat, her pulse fluttering wildly beneath my mouth. And still, even now, even spent—I want her.

Always.

Silas

Lucien’s been in a mood for two days straight. A capital-M, terrifying mood, which in Lucien-speak means he’s been stomping around the house like a walking thundercloud, snapping at everyone, looking like he wants to throw us off a cliff. He yelled at Elias and me this morning for existing too loudly, which is impressive considering I was literally just whistling.

So naturally, the moment he stormed off to his room, Elias and I exchanged one look across the kitchen table, and I knew. War.

I didn’t even have to say it out loud—Elias had already grabbed a fistful of pebbles before I made it outside, tossing them at Luna’s window like some tragic idiot in a romance play. Except I’m not tragic. I’m a menace. And I don’t play fair.

The third pebble hit glass, and before she could yell at me, I hissed, "C’mon, princess. Field trip." She scowled down at me, hair messy and adorable, and I swear I felt something rattle loose in my ribcage.

Now, hours later, we’ve dragged her out into the meadow behind the house—the one Riven cleared with his bare hands because apparentlyhe likes manual labor—and Elias and I are halfway through constructing the ugliest, most cursed-looking kite the Hollow’s ever seen.

Luna’s sitting in the grass, legs tucked under her, hair falling over one shoulder as she watches us with a mix of fondness and very justified suspicion. She keeps glancing back at the houselike she expects Lucien to come charging out, sword drawn, ready to murder us all for daring to touch grass.

"I can’t believe you made me sneak out for this," she mutters as I wrestle with the thin strips of wood.