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The words didn’t just settle in my chest—they ignited something. Something reckless and ancient and impossibly alive.

My breath caught this time. My fingers curled against his shirt, anchoring myself when it would’ve been so easy to fall into him completely.

“You think I don’t feel it too?” I whispered, eyes locked on his mouth now. “Like every breath you take draws me closer to forgetting who I am.”

His forehead dipped until it nearly touched mine. His voice was a ghost— don’t let me want this.

“Then what are we doing?” he murmured.

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t need to.

Because my lips were already parting—

I just rose on the balls of my feet—and that was all it took.

His lips found mine. He wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t careful.

It was deep and consuming, a kiss that spoke of hunger held back too long.

His hand slid into my hair, gripping at the back of my neck.

I tasted snow and heat and something wild in him, like magic barely leashed.

The air between us crackled—not with spell work, but tension too thick to ignore any longer.

The world narrowed to this moment, to the pressure of his mouth on mine, the heat of his breath, the way his fingers tightened at my waist like he was afraid I’d slip away.

But I didn’t.

Samael deepened the kiss, and I melted into him, my hands fisting the front of his shirt, dragging him closer still.

He was tall—so much taller than me—and I felt it in the way I had to tilt my chin up, in the way his body pressed into mine, encompassing.

Surrounding. The chill of the room vanished beneath the warmth blooming between us, spreading like fire from where our mouths met to the insistent heat curling low in my belly.

When I shifted, I felt it—him—hard and undeniable against my hips, and my breath hitched sharply against his lips.

The rush of arousal that followed was dizzying, a visceral spark that tightened every nerve in my body.

I swayed into him, the friction sending a flush through my chest, and he groaned softly, the sound vibrating where our bodies connected.

I pressed closer, matching the rhythm, the intensity. Meeting him beat for beat, shadow for shadow.

Letting him know—I wasn’t going anywhere.

Then, slowly, he pulled back—just far enough to look at me. His thumb grazed my lower lip, swollen from his kiss, his gaze dark and hungry.

“Gods,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

A soft, almost dazed laugh escaped me. “I could hazard a guess.”

He grinned—a rare, real smile that stole the breath from my lungs—and lowered his head to press a slow, lingering kiss beneath my jaw.

“You taste sweet,” he said quietly, the words barely audible as he brushed his lips against the curve of my throat. “Like honey and defiance.”

I trembled under the weight of it, my fingers still curled in the fabric at his chest.

Then, with a soft sigh, he leaned his forehead against mine.

“I meant what I said, little raven,” he whispered. “About protecting you.”

Something tightened in my chest. Not fear, not doubt—something deeper. Something dangerous.

I looked up into his eyes, still fogged with heat, but steadier now.

“I didn’t think you were lying,” I whispered.

For a moment, we simply stood there, wrapped in each other’s presence, suspended between breath and want.

Then Samael exhaled and straightened slightly, the fire in his gaze dimming—only a fraction.

“You should get some sleep,” he said gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from my cheek. “Big day tomorrow. Adventures. Secrets. Reckless magic.” A crooked smile tugged at his lips.

I smirked, but there was a flicker of disappointment in my chest. I didn't want the night to end. Not yet.

He moved toward the door, reaching for his coat—but then paused, glancing back at me over his shoulder.

“One more thing.”

I arched a brow. “You just remembered you left your soul behind?”

“That, too,” he replied smoothly, then turned to face me fully. “The Winter Solstice Ball,” his lips curled into a devilish smile. “Join me.”

The question—or lack thereof—landed like a slow ripple, spreading warmth across my skin that had nothing to do with magic. My stomach flipped, fluttering unreasonably, and I nodded before I could talk myself out of it.

“Yes,” I said softly, almost shy. “I’d like that.”

His smile was softer now. Real. “Good.”

Samael pulled on his coat, his gaze lingering on me one last time, then opened the door to the hallway. The cold seeped in from outside, a crisp reminder of the world waiting just beyond this moment. He stepped through it, then looked back.

“Goodnight, little raven.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

The door clicked softly behind him.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where he’d just been. The warmth of his presence still clung to the room, to my skin, to my lips.

Then, just as I turned toward the bed, I felt it.

A shift in the air, my amulet heating against my chest.

“So that’s all it takes?” the Raven’s Echo purred, low and mocking. “A little fire. A little charm. And now you’re opening doors not even he knows how to close.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t flinch.

But I felt the whisper settle into my bones like frost.

“Careful, little flame,” it breathed. “You’ve let the darkness in… and now it knows your name.”

The shadows rippled across the corners of the room as I exhaled and finally, slowly, reached for the light.

Darkness or not—I was no longer afraid.