Page 49 of Avidian (The Demon and the Savior #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Take this now,” Malachi says, handing me the healing vial. I quickly pull the one from my pocket and shove it toward him.

“Only if you take this one,” I counter, holding firm. His eyes narrow, the kind of look that says he’s about to argue, but I cross my arms and dig in.

“Your injury is far worse than mine,” he insists. “I don’t want to waste it. What if those things come back?”

“Then you’ll need to be at full strength,” I retort. “Take it, or I won’t either.”

His jaw tightens, and I know I’ve won when he pops the top off the vial and inhales the shimmering contents in one sharp breath. “You’re impossible sometimes. Do you know that?” he mutters, shaking his head.

“I pride myself on it,” I say, smiling as I take my own dose. The warmth spreads through me instantly, and the sharp pain in my leg fades almost entirely.

Malachi lets out a short laugh, tossing the empty vial onto the counter.

In an instant, he closes the distance between us, his mouth crashing into mine with a force that sends me sliding back on the smooth surface of the table. My legs part instinctively as I grab at the front of his shirt, tugging him closer while he devours me with hungry kisses.

One of his arms wraps around my back, and the other shoves into my hair, holding me to him. All I want is to be closer to him. I can't get enough of him—his lips, his body, his scent. His teeth graze my lip, and I moan as he rocks his hips into me.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and I realize I’m panting, struggling to catch my breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice ragged. “There were a few moments out there where I thought I might never get to do that again.”

I slide my hand down his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Then don’t stop.”

His grin is both wicked and tender as his fingers grasp my chin, tilting my face up to his. “I need to see you. All of you.” His hand releases my chin, trailing down my neck and then further in a slow, soothing motion before it reaches the hem of my shirt. “Let me.”

I lift my arms without hesitation, and he pulls my top off over my head, tossing it aside. His eyes rake over me, and I don’t shy away from his gaze. Instead, I reach back, unclasp my bra, and let it fall to the floor.

“I’m not sure what I want more right now—to worship you or ruin you.”

I run my teeth over my bottom lip. “Why not both?”

That infuriatingly sexy smile spreads across his lips, and I clasp my hands around his neck, pulling him into me, capturing his mouth with mine.

I can feel the hard press of him between my legs, his arousal straining against his pants, and it ignites a fire inside me.

My hand slides down, pressing against the bulge, and his groan vibrates against my lips.

His tongue explores my mouth with a desperation that feels like he’s trying to memorize every part of me.

The tension that’s been building between us is about to explode, and I’m ready for it. I want to burn for him, with him, until there’s nothing left.

Malachi’s kiss softens, becoming achingly tender as his hands slide up my thighs to settle on my hips, his grip firm as though he’s afraid to let me go.

The sensation sends sparks racing through me, and I arch into him, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. His lips leave mine, trailing down my jaw and onto my neck and down to my breasts, where he nips and sucks in all the right places.

“You’re more than I deserve, but I’m selfish enough to want you anyway.” His breath is hot against my skin, and a shiver crawls down my spine.

“Then stop talking about what you deserve and let me show you what I want.”

Before I finish speaking, my hands are already sliding under his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin. He helps me, pulling it off in one swift motion and tossing it aside. I take a moment to look at him, to admire the lines of his chest and the way the candlelight dances across his skin.

He’s so damn beautiful. I’ve known it since the moment I first saw him—his broad frame, that perfect smile, the effortless power in the way his muscles flex. His mouth twists into the charming smirk he wears so well. “See something you like?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

I slide off the table and reach for him, my lips demanding to taste him again. I kiss him, frantic and messy, and he lets me explore his mouth, matching my intensity. My hands move to his belt, fumbling to undo it without breaking the kiss, but his hands stop me, a low laugh rumbling in his chest.

“What?” I pull back to look at him, and he grabs my hips, lifting me and placing me back onto the edge of the table.

“You shouldn’t be standing on your ankle yet.”

“I told you it’s fine,” I argue, reaching for his waist again, but he catches my hands in his, holding them firmly.

“I’ll decide when it’s fine.” He lifts my hand to his lips, brushing a slow kiss across my knuckles. His eyes burn into mine, like smoldering embers glowing with flecks of gold.

Fuck .

I want him to take his time, but I also want him on me and inside me right now. My body is already burning with anticipation—I need more.

He releases my wrists, his fingers finding the waistband of my pants.

He doesn’t rush, sliding them down along with my panties in one fluid motion, his hands grazing my skin and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

One boot falls to the ground with a thud, then the other, the sound matching the frantic beat of my heart.

When I’m completely bare in front of him, he pushes my thighs open and wraps an arm around my lower back, tugging me to the very edge of the table.

The hard press of his cock against me makes my breath hitch, and I curse the fabric of his pants for being between us.

My hands move to his stomach, trailing over the coiled muscles there, and then slide up to wrap around his neck, coaxing him to kiss me again.

His mouth claims mine, his tongue tracing my bottom lip before trailing to my ear.

He nibbles at the sensitive skin, and as I’m about to beg for more, his hand cups my center.

One finger presses inside me, and my body reacts instantly, tightening around him. A groan escapes my lips as my head falls back, exposing my neck to his kisses.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” His lips brush my throat. “So wet for me, Kat.”

I place my hand over his, pressing it to me harder, and he glides another finger inside me. It’s too much and not enough all at once. I need more of him—every piece of him—but the thought also terrifies me.

“So impatient,” he teases, and I don’t disagree.

His thumb grazes my clit, and my hips jerk in response, seeking more of the delicious pressure.

I go completely still when he lowers his mouth to my center, his lips replacing his thumb.

His tongue parts my flesh with exquisite precision, my back arches, and I can’t stop the raw, needy sound that tears from my throat.

My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to me as his tongue works magic, circling and stroking.

One of his hands keeps a steady hold on my thigh, anchoring me in place, while the other continues its intoxicating rhythm inside me.

“Malachi,” I breathe, and his responding hum sends vibrations through me that push me closer to the edge.

The world fades until there’s nothing but him—his touch, his mouth, the way he’s unraveling me so completely, like he’s always known exactly how. This isn’t just about desire. It’s about trust. About stepping into something I’ve never allowed myself to imagine.

I’ve spent so long running, so long surviving, that I forgot what it feels like to simply be. To let someone in. And now, with Malachi, I feel like I can.

The way he touches me isn’t just hungry—it’s deliberate, like he’s memorizing every inch of me, like he wants to erase every scar left behind by the life I’ve lived. His focus is all-consuming, and for the first time I feel like more than just my gift or my past.

I didn’t think I’d ever want this. I didn’t think I’d ever trust someone enough to have this. But here I am, wanting him, needing him in a way that scares me and excites me all at once.

For so long, I’ve believed that I was broken. That someone like me couldn’t have a future, let alone happiness. But right now, with his hands on me, with the fire in his eyes pulling me in, I want to believe.

I want to believe I can have more.

That I can have him.

I can have Malachi.

And right now, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

I glance down at him, and air stalls in my lungs.

His focus is entirely on me, like I’m the only thing that matters in the world.

There’s hunger in his gaze, yes, but there’s something else too.

Something softer, more consuming. It’s devotion.

Worship. The way his hands move over me, the way his mouth lingers, pulling shivers and gasps from me with every touch… I’ve never felt more wanted.

More seen.

Suddenly, he pulls back, his fingers slipping out of me as he stands.

My body protests the loss of him, but the way his hands move to undo his pants ignites a new wave of suspense.

My eyes are fixed on him, my breathing uneven as I watch his movements.

He doesn’t rush, his focus locked on mine with an intensity that makes my nerves alight.

“Tell me you’ve never done this before.” His pants hit the floor, and he steps out of them with a confidence that’s both captivating and overwhelming.

My breathing falters.

He’s hard and thick, and I can’t tear my eyes away. He’s so fucking perfect, and the urge to taste him builds low in my stomach. But I don’t move—my body frozen, caught in the intensity of the moment.

Heat floods my cheeks, and the air between us crackles, alive with tension. I’ve waited so long for this, and now that it’s here, it feels like I might combust under the weight of it.

“Tell me I’m the only one.” He takes a step toward me.