Page 51

51

DAIN

T he world has finally stopped trembling.

The ruins are silent, bathed in the moonlight overhead. The battle is over. The artifact is gone. The presence, the thing that has haunted me for centuries, whispered in my mind, turned my hate into something sharp and endless—is nothing but ash and echoes.

But my hands still shake.

Liora stands before me, alive, whole, her magic no longer a force tearing her apart but something that has become hers. Not Amara’s. Not the artifact’s. Just hers.

I can barely breathe.

I should say something. I should tell her that she was reckless, that she was stupid for nearly dying in front of me again. That I shouldn’t have had to drag her back from the abyss because she should have never thrown herself into it in the first place.

But I don’t.

Because all I can think about is the way she looked at me in the final moment before she shattered the artifact—like she had already chosen me. Like she had always chosen me.

I don’t deserve it.

I want to tell her that too. That she should hate me for every cruel thing I said, for every time I almost killed her, for every time I let my rage consume me instead of reaching for her.

But she doesn’t give me the chance.

She moves toward me, slow, deliberate, her bare feet silent on the cracked stone. I expect her to stop, to hesitate, to give me time to put my walls back up.

She doesn’t.

She crashes into me.

Her hands grip my jaw, fingers digging into my skin like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she doesn’t hold on tight enough. She pulls me down, and her lips slam into mine—no hesitation, no waiting.

Just need.

I don’t think. I break.

I grab her, hard, bruising, my fingers tangling into her hair as I crush her against me. Her gasp is swallowed by my mouth, her body pressed to mine, and there’s nothing gentle about the way I take her lips, devouring, claiming, demanding.

This isn’t like before.

This isn’t rage.

It’s us, without the chains of the past, without the curses, without the war between us keeping us apart.

Liora is shaking as she fists what remains of the clothing covering me, pulling me closer, deeper, her breath ragged, her body fever-hot against mine. Her magic hums between us, a raw, electric thing, and my own power answers it, twisting around her, threading into her like it belongs there.

I growl against her lips, because it does.

She belongs to me.

Not as a curse. Not as a mistake.

She is mine.

I lift her without thinking, gripping her thighs, forcing her legs around my waist. She gasps, her nails scraping against my shoulders as I slam her against the nearest stone wall. Her breath hitches, her back arching, pressing into me, and I feel her through the thin scraps of fabric still clinging to our bodies.

"Say it," I breathe against her throat, my lips trailing fire along her skin.

Her fingers tangle into my hair, tugging me back to her lips, her eyes blazing as she pants against me.

"I’m yours," she whispers.

Something inside me snaps.

I drag my fangs along her jaw, down to her throat, my breath hot against her pulse. "Say it again."

Her hips shift against mine, and I nearly lose it.

"I. Am. Yours," she gasps.

And then I tear her clothes apart.

She lets out a ragged moan as I drag my mouth down her throat, over her collarbone, my hands mapping every inch of her bare skin. She is warmth, and fire, and life, and gods, I need her.

She yanks at the fabric covering me, frustrated, desperate, and I let her rip it from my body, her hands roaming over my chest, my shoulders, like she needs to memorize me.

"You're too clothed," she mutters breathlessly.

My hands are rough as they tear away the last barriers between us, her pussy slick and ready, my cock hard and straining against my thigh.

She arches into me, a desperate whimper escaping her lips as I claim her mouth, biting and sucking until she’s breathless.

“Dain! Oh… Dain,” she writhes in my arms, moving as if she wants me to fuck her hard.

I kiss her lips, silencing her moans. My fingers dig into her hips as I yank her closer, aligning us just right before I thrust into her, hard and unrelenting. She cries out, her nails scraping down my back, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

My mind’s way wired, way too charged and eaten by carnal desire that all I think about is fucking her and making her mine.

“Liora… finally!” I groan, pounding inside her.

Her pussy clenches around me, hot and tight, and I groan, my cock throbbing as I push deeper, harder. She’s writhing beneath me, her moans music to my ears.

“Gods!” I groan, my back arching as I try to hit deeper. Her screams resonate with my moans as I fuck her harder. “Yes!”

I pull out just enough to flip her onto her stomach, her ass in the air, and she doesn’t resist. Liora knows what’s coming.

I almost fly off the ground as I raise her, my wings opening wide as I brace harder.

“Oh, goodness!” Liora screams, magic swirling around her, helping her take my everything. My power. My hardness. All of me.

My cock slams into her again, hitting the spot that makes her convulse and orgasm. “Dain!”

I watch her face contort in pleasure and her honey gush out of her like a river. My hips even more faster, each thrust is brutal, all consuming, and she takes it all, her cries growing louder, more desperate.

Her pussy’s dripping, and her eyes roll back. She’s so close to the zenith again.

But I’m not letting her come. Not again.

I slow my pace, just enough to drive her mad, and she whimpers, her body trembling. "Please," she begs, and I kiss, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"Come with me, Liora.”

She moans, nodding, and I finally give in, my hand reaching around to stroke her clit in time with my thrusts. It doesn’t take long. She screams as she comes again, her pussy clamping down on me, and I follow her over the edge, my cock pulsing as I fill her.

When it’s over, she collapses beneath me, breathless and spent. I pull her close, my lips brushing her ear once more.

“I love you,” I say.

She gazes at me, full of devotion and love I can’t possibly comprehend. My heart aches for what Liora did for me.

I make her mine, over and over again, until the only name she can remember is mine.

Until the past doesn’t matter. Until there is no Amara, no artifact, no prophecy or war—just Liora and me.

She is here.

She is alive.

I will never let her go.