Page 39 of Bitten & Burned

His hands skated down my sides, reverent and steady. “I want to make you feel good,” he said, his voice rough at the edges now. “Not because you’re hurting. Not to distract you. Just because… gods, Rowena. Please let me.”

I nodded, breath catching.

He kissed my throat, down to the hollow between my breasts, moving with the quiet focus of a man who had fought wars and rebuilt temples just to worship in them again.

Cassian didn’t worship loudly; he worshipped like it was a big secret.

Gods, I wanted in on it.

Cassian kissed down my body like he already knew the terrain—like he’d mapped every inch long ago and was reacquainting himself with an old obsession.

He took his time. Not lazy.

Deliberate.

His hands slid beneath my thighs, lifting them, spreading me open with care. And then he looked up at me—his gaze hot and fiery, mouth hovering just above where I ached for him.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he said softly. “I want to watch you feel it.”

The command struck something deep, and I obeyed without hesitation. His gaze locked on mine as his mouth found me, tongue slow and precise, licking a long stripe from the base of my entrance to my clit. I gasped, hips bucking, but his grip tightened—just slightly.

“Easy,” he murmured. “You’ll take what I give.”

Gods, the control in his voice. Not cruel. Not cold. But confident.

He licked again. Flicked his tongue in tight circles. Then sucked—just enough to make my legs tremble.

“I don’t want you quiet,” he said against my skin, breath hot. “I won’t stop you if you beg.”

I whimpered. That wasn’t begging. Not yet.

But he didn’t relent. He kept his rhythm steady, torturously slow, until I was panting, writhing, desperate. And still he watched me, like the sight of my unraveling was what he needed most.

I reached for his hair, needing something to hold onto, and he let me—until I tugged. Then his hand came down firm on my thigh—not painful, but sharp. The sound echoed in the room along with my gasp.

“None of that,” he said, lifting his head. His mouth glistened with me. “You want more, you ask.”

I stared at him, lips parted, chest heaving.

“Cassian…”

“Try again.”

I swallowed. My cheeks burned.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered first, the wrong words spilling out. His raised brow told me he’d wait. And then—I gave him the right one. “Please.”

His mouth curved in a dark smile. The bond thrummed hot and bright at the word, echoing my surrender back to me through him.

“Good girl.”

Then he devoured me.

No more teasing. No more restraint. Just hunger, unleashed.

His tongue plunged into me as two fingers slid in slowly, curling upward, finding that devastating place that made my entire body jolt. He sucked my clit in time with the thrust of his fingers, building pressure so fast it felt like drowning.

I sobbed his name, one hand clutching the sheets, the other still buried in his hair.

“Cassian—fuck—please—”

He hummed, the vibration sending me spiraling.

“Don’t hold back,” he growled. “Let me have it.”

And I did.

I shattered with a cry, thighs trembling, body convulsing against his mouth as he held me there, licking me through every wave until I was twitching with overstimulation. Wet and whimpering.

Only then did he pull back, fingers sliding out of me slowly and controlled.

I was shaking. Barely coherent.

“I… gods, Cassian… fuck…”

Cassian crawled up the bed, eyes never leaving mine. He kissed me—slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue. I moaned into it, giving in to the ruin he offered.

He hovered above me, one hand braced beside my head, the other brushing my cheek like I was precious.

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered. “Not even close.”

He hovered above me, still fully clothed, looking down like I was dinner. Well, I suppose I just was. His hand brushed my cheek again, thumb ghosting over my bottom lip.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured.

“I want more,” I whispered. “Please.”

His eyes darkened.

“Then give it to me,” he said. “All of it. Give me your surrender.”

The words didn’t make me hesitate. They let me breathe.

I reached up, wrapped my arms around his neck, and nodded. “It’s yours.”

Cassian growled—low and satisfied—then leaned in, kissing me hard, devouring me as if something inside him had finally snapped. His hands moved fast now, pushing the sheets down, the blankets away, then stripping off his clothes with sharp efficiency.

I couldn’t look away. His body was beautiful—muscle, scars, and sheer lethal grace. He caught me staring, and his smile turned dark and amused.

“You like what you see, little dove?”

I nodded, cheeks burning.

“Good,” he said, settling between my legs. “Because it’s all for you.”

He reached down and stroked himself once, slow and firm, and the sound I made was half gasp, half prayer.

Then he leaned over me, bracing himself with one hand while the other slid to my throat.

Not choking. Not pressing. Just present.

His palm wrapped around the base of my neck, fingers resting like a question.

“Still with me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Still mine?”

“Yes.”

“Then take a breath.”

I did.

And he slid inside.

Gods.

He filled me slowly, deep, inch by inch, until I felt stretched, felt claimed.

My legs wrapped around his waist automatically, hips arching up to meet him.

I could feel his control in every measured movement—this wasn’t frantic or wild.

This was Cassian staking a claim—marking me without teeth, making me his.

“You feel perfect,” he rasped. “I knew you would.”

I whimpered, hands gripping his shoulders as he pulled back and thrust again—deeper this time. Stronger.

“I can feel how much you need this,” he said, his voice both gentle and intense. “How much you need me.”

I nodded, breathless. “I do.”

His pace quickened, hips slamming into mine with more force, more purpose. And still his hand held my throat—not cruel, just commanding. A reminder of the power I’d given him. Of the trust he held in his palm.

“You’re safe,” he said, punctuating every word with a thrust. “You’re mine. And I’ll never let you fall.”

The bond hummed steady, solid. For once, I almost believed him.

The orgasm crashed over me like a wave—sudden, sharp, devastating. I cried out, clenching around him, shaking, unable to do anything but feel as he fucked me through it, his voice the only thing keeping me tethered.

“That’s it, little dove. That’s my good girl.”

He didn’t stop.

He released my neck and pulled me into his arms. I went, helping as I could, while he draped me over his lap, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of him.

“Rowena?” he murmured, nuzzling my nose with his, “May I bite you? Taste you? Please?”

I nodded, tilting my head to bare my throat.

He opened his mouth. I saw a glint of fangs, and then he was on me.

The bite didn’t hurt. Not even when he started drinking; it was just a dull ache, like a bruise.

He groaned into my throat as he drank, shivering when it hit him. I had done this enough to know what it was now. When they could feel the wound.

I reached back and stroked his hair, encouraging him to continue.

And he did, drawing twice more and licking the wound clean. He straightened, eyes dark and boring into mine. “Your taste is intoxicating,” He whispered. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

He chased his own release next—grinding deeper, rougher, until he cursed under his breath, burying himself to the hilt one last time with a broken groan, hips jerking up into me as he came.

And still, even then, he didn’t let go.

“Still with me?” he asked again, voice wrecked.

“Still yours,” I whispered.

The bond pulsed hot at the words, echoing his claim through me.

Cassian didn’t move for a long moment. He stayed inside me, chest rising and falling against mine, hand still on my cheek as if that one last point of contact proved I was real.

I turned my head slightly and pressed a kiss to his wrist.

It was as if the spell was broken. Not with a sigh of disappointment, but with a shaky grin of triumph. Gods, I’d never felt so thoroughly claimed before. Claimed in the best ways.

He pulled out carefully, shifting me off him with a quiet exhale before disappearing briefly into the bathroom. I didn’t move, stayed sitting there. Couldn’t do anything else. My limbs felt too heavy, too warm, too full.

When he returned, he was holding a warm cloth. He nudged my thighs open with the gentlest touch, cleaning me with unhurried precision, never saying a word as he worked. Just that steady, grounded silence that wrapped around us like safety itself.

I winced at the sensitivity, and his gaze flicked up.

“Too much?” he asked, voice low and quiet.

I shook my head. “Just sore.”

He nodded once, like that was the answer he’d hoped for. “That’ll fade. If it doesn’t, I can give you some of my blood. That will help.”

After tossing the cloth aside, he climbed back into bed, drawing me into his arms without asking. My head settled on his chest, his fingers moving immediately to my hair, stroking slow patterns through the sweat-damp strands.

“You were perfect,” he said softly, kissing the crown of my head.

“You were…” I paused, then smiled into his skin. “Ridiculously confident.”

Cassian chuckled, a low, amused sound that rumbled in his chest. “I’m a general, little dove. Confidence comes with the territory.”

“Mmm,” I murmured. “Still. Confident and competent. Not a bad combination.”

He huffed another quiet laugh and held me tighter. “You gave me your trust. That’s not something I take lightly.”

I didn’t answer right away. Just listened to the slow, steady rhythm of his heart.

When I finally spoke, my voice was barely audible. “I needed that.”

“I know.”

“I needed you.”

His hand stilled in my hair, then started moving again, even slower this time.

“And I’ll be here,” he said, “every time you do.”

I swallowed hard. “Will you stay? Just… stay for a little while longer?”

Cassian didn’t hesitate.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He shifted slightly, reaching for the forgotten cup on the nightstand. “Your tea’s probably lukewarm by now, but it’ll help.”

He held it out—the most patient offering in the world.

I took it with a quiet smile, fingers brushing his.

He didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t need to.

He was already holding me.

I sipped the tea slowly, the honey and lemon still warm enough to soothe my throat. Cassian stayed beside me, propped up on one elbow, his hand lazily dragging up and down on my hip beneath the blankets, tracing my curves.

When I set the cup back on the nightstand and curled into him again, he brushed his lips against my temple.

“You should eat something,” he said gently.

I groaned. “You with your tea and food. Did you appoint yourself my caretaker while I wasn’t looking?”

“I’m the only one here,” he said. “And you’ve had a horrible week. Your body needs care, even if your heart’s still catching up.”

“Don’t make it sound so damn reasonable,” I muttered.

“I’m not trying to be reasonable. I’m trying to make sure you don’t pass out on the carriage ride tomorrow.”

I blinked. “Oh, right. We’re going back to Halemont…” No Quil or Anton. Yet.

He nodded. “Early evening. Vael and Dmitri will be expecting us before the cock crows on the day after tomorrow.”

I sighed, letting the weight of that settle in. “It doesn’t feel like I’ve been gone for long. Not long enough, at any rate.”

“It hasn’t,” he said. “We don’t get to choose the pace—only how we move through it.”

His hand slid across my stomach, and for a second, I thought he might pull me in again—but instead, he just kissed my shoulder and pulled back the covers.

“Come on,” he said. “Just a little soup. Or bread. Or I can heat up the pastries Anton left.”

That made me pause. “He left pastries?”

Cassian gave a small smile. “Your favorite: Pain au chocolat. Four of them. You were asleep when he dropped them off.”

My chest clenched—something between sorrow and sweetness. I wasn’t ready to talk about Anton. Not yet.

But chocolate…

“Fine,” I muttered, pushing back the covers. “But only if you’re having one too.”

He stood, gloriously naked, and tossed me his shirt from the chair near the bed.

“Deal,” he said. “But I’m not heating them. We’re eating them cold and in bed like degenerates.”

“For a general,” I said, tugging the shirt over my head, “you really don’t have much discipline.”

Cassian turned at the doorway, looking back with a gleam in his eye.

“You gave me my orders,” he said. “I’m just following them.”

We ate the pastries in bed, crumbs scattering between the sheets. Cassian quietly pretended not to notice when I started crying again halfway through.

He didn’t try to stop me.

He just passed me the last one, kissed my forehead, and said, “More for you.”

When I finally fell asleep, it was with chocolate on my lips, warmth in my belly, and the steady rise and fall of his chest under my cheek.

For the first time in days, I didn’t feel broken.

I felt held.