Page 50 of Avidian (The Demon and the Savior #1)

I meet his unrelenting stare. “There’s only you,” I whisper.

He takes a step closer and then another, until he’s standing between my legs again. His large hands slide up my thighs, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that’s somehow softer than before but no less consuming. God, I want to cling to him, unshakable, like a shadow bound to its source.

I wrap my arms around his neck as he presses against me. I can feel him at my entrance, his warmth searing into my skin. He touches my breasts and teases my nipples, taking his time kissing my neck then my jaw and my mouth.

“No one else will ever touch you like this.” His lips brush against mine, his hands tightening on my hips. “Because you’re mine, Kat. Only mine.”

The raw hunger in his claim sinks into me, and the way he says my name sends a sharp ache through my chest—one I know I should ignore but can’t.

“Prove it,” I whisper between kisses.

“I intend to. Over and over again.” He starts to push inside me, taking his time, the pressure building as he stretches me in a way that steals the air from my lungs. My breath hitches, my nails digging into his shoulders as my legs wrap around his waist, anchoring myself to him.

“Easy,” he says, his voice a low rasp, rough with restraint. His hand moves to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing softly against my skin. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

I shake my head, unable to speak, my chest heaving as he presses deeper. Every glorious inch of him fills me, a mix of pleasure and sharp, sudden pain making my body tremble. When I think he can’t possibly go deeper, he does, and a soft whimper escapes me.

His forehead presses gently to mine, his eyes searching my face.

“Stay with me. Look at me.”

I squeeze my eyes shut against the overwhelming sensation, but the gentle brush of his fingers through my hair draws me back. “I want to see your face when I make you fall apart.”

I force my eyes open, locking onto his. The intensity in his stare anchors me, and he stays perfectly still, giving me a moment to adjust. His hands find my waist, his thumbs brushing soothing circles into my skin.

Slowly, the pain starts to ebb, replaced by something deeper, something more consuming. When I nod, he takes the cue.

He pulls out slowly, the sensation leaving me wanting more, and then thrusts back in. My head falls back, a shaky breath turns into a moan as he fills me, stretching me in ways I’ve never experienced.

“Malachi,” I exhale, gripping him tighter as he thrusts again, his movements gaining confidence and strength.

“Say my name again, and I might lose control.”

Fuck, this is him in control. The way he moves, the way he looks at me—I’m already consumed, drowning in him. But God, I want to feel him lose it. “Malachi,” I cry out again.

With a growl, he lifts me off the table, pressing me against the wall.

The cool surface contrasts with the heat of his body, his arm firm around my waist as he holds me effortlessly.

His other hand tangles in my hair, cradling the back of my head as he moves in and out of me with a rhythm that leaves me unraveling.

“You feel so damn good. You have no idea what you do to me, Kat.”

I cling to him, my arms wrapped tight around his neck as waves of pleasure crash over me, leaving me speechless, building higher with every thrust. My cries fill the room, the sound of our bodies colliding almost drowned out by the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.

"I’ll never get enough of you—the way you tremble, the way you moan when I’m buried this deep inside you.”

“If I’d known it would be this good, I wouldn’t have waited so long,” I manage to say between thrusts.

He chuckles before his lips find mine again, his kiss hungry, his tongue exploring my mouth as if he can’t get enough. The connection is overwhelming, raw, and utterly consuming.

“Mine,” he breathes against my lips, his voice a ragged growl. The possessiveness sends a shiver down my spine as he grips me harder, moving faster, deeper, until I’m crying out his name. The pleasure peaks, my entire body tightening around him as I shatter all at once.

With a few final, deep plunges, his body stills against me. I feel the swell and twitch of his cock deep inside me as his breathing slows. The intensity of the moment lingers, my body still trembling as I cling to him, utterly spent.

He stays inside me for a moment longer, his grip on me loosening as his lips brush my temple.

When he finally pulls out, he lowers me to my feet slowly, steadying me as my legs threaten to give out. I lean into him, burying my face in the crook of his neck, feeling his arms wrap protectively around me. The world feels distant. The only thing anchoring me is him.

We decide not to risk a fire, not with the possibility of drawing attention to the cabin.

Luckily, there’s a small closet stocked with heavy blankets and clean, albeit old, sheets.

We layer the bed, bundling ourselves beneath the covers to keep warm, relying on body heat to do the rest. Malachi pulls me close, my back pressed firmly against his warm chest, and drapes an arm over my waist, his hand resting on my stomach.

His warmth seeps into me, and I feel safe despite the craziness that’s been surrounding us all night.

“At first light, we’ll head back. I don’t want to risk putting you in any more danger by going to the truck in the dark,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of my head. The gesture is so gentle, so intimate, and I savor the feeling.

I don’t respond right away. My mind is too preoccupied, replaying every moment we’ve shared tonight.

The passion between us, the intensity—it lingers, intoxicating and all-consuming.

It’s impossible to ignore the yearning that still simmers under my skin.

I dare to think I want more of him, and that thought alone thrills me.

“How are you feeling? Are you… Does it hurt?” he asks hesitantly, seemingly afraid of the answer.

I shake my head, my lips curving into a smile he can’t see. “I feel amazing,” I say, deciding to let the honesty slip out without second-guessing it. For once, I don’t want to hold my cards too close to my chest. Not with him. He deserves to know how good he makes me feel.

His grip on me tightens slightly, and I feel the lazy drag of his fingertips as he traces patterns on my bare skin. “Do you want me to stop calling you demon?” he asks suddenly, catching me off guard.

The unexpectedness of the question makes me laugh louder than I mean to, and I quickly slap a hand over my mouth. “That’s so random,” I giggle, unable to stop myself.

“I know.” He shifts behind me, getting comfortable. “I started calling you that to mess with you, but now I like it. Then after hearing my father call you that, I realized it might not be something you want to hear.”

I tilt my head slightly, surprised by how much thought he’s put into something so small. “I like it when you say it. Trust me, it doesn’t sound the same coming from you. And when I’m with you, I’m not thinking about him at all,” I say.

He exhales, his breath warm against the back of my neck, and I feel him relax behind me. “Good. I like calling you my clever demon,” he murmurs.

“So possessive,” I tease, though the flutter in my chest betrays how much I love it.

He pulls me closer until there’s no space left between us.

“Why does my father call you a demon?” he asks, his hand trailing over my bare skin.

I shrug, nonchalant. “I think he’s superstitious. He’s always said seeing the dead is the work of the devil, so I must be one of his creatures. I don’t mind, really. It actually makes some of the guards fear me, and I kind of like that.”

He chuckles, but eventually a calm silence settles between us.

I ask, “What happens when this ends? When we get back and everything goes back to normal?”

The weight of reality is pressing against the edges of this fragile moment.

“This is my normal now, you’re my normal now. The world will have to adjust,” Malachi says without hesitation, his tone so steady it leaves no room for doubt.

I blink, caught off guard by the simplicity in his answer, the certainty in his voice. But the reality of Marco looms large in my mind, and I can’t help but press further. “Care to clue me in on your plan when Marco shows up to claim me?”

His fingers, which had been tracing lazy patterns along my arm, still for a moment. “I’m still working on it,” he admits, uneasy. “But trust me, Kat—no one is taking you away from me. If Orin or anyone else ever tries to hurt you again, I’ll bury them so deep the wolves won’t find their bones.”

I shiver, but not from the cold. He’s making a vow, one he intends to keep no matter the cost. His fingers move again, this time brushing against my bare skin with a tenderness that contrasts with the deadly promise he made.

“You make it sound like you own me now,” I say, teasing him, though I’m curious too.

“I don’t own you, Kat.” He leans in so close that his breath warms my cheek and brushes his lips against my ear. “But I’ll destroy anyone who tries to.”

I can’t tell whether I should feel comforted or terrified—or maybe a little of both. I turn over in his arms to face him, our heads resting on the worn pillows next to each other.

“I never would have imagined this.” I stare into the flickering shadows cast by the single candle on the nightstand. My thoughts drift back to that night in the park when everything started—when I had no idea how much my life was about to change. How much he would change it.

Malachi tilts his head, watching me. “What do you mean?”