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FORTY-SEVEN

Fiona

T he storm raged in my chest as Reed’s hands skimmed over my sides, sharp, half-shifted claws slicing my dress away like it was nothing.

I reveled in it, loved his wildness because it fed the wildness inside me. But somehow, embracing it like this, I was in control. I owned the storm, owned the whipping wind and the slashing rain. It was part of me, and I was part of it.

Djinn .

I’d read about them in the maidens’ books, briefly. Most of them were legends lost to time, spirits that inhabited storms, not physical bodies. But it all made sense now, as Reed pushed me back onto the bed, falling to his knees and pressing my legs wide. As I felt the rage, felt the power, felt the beauty of the power inside me.

The storm outside was a kitten, purring in my lap. Happy to please me, happy to be free finally, after so long being locked inside a cage. It didn’t want to be in a cage; it wasn’t meant to inhabit a solid body, always locked down tight.

That was all it ever wanted: to be free.

Reed’s tongue swirled around my clit, dragging me back into myself, out of the storm as he drove me wild, pushing me higher and higher with skilled strokes of tongue and fingers.

I was liquid need, floating passion, untethered from anything but his touch. And when he drove me to the peak, all I wanted was more. More of him, more feeling, more freedom.

The tips of his claws prickled at my skin as he rose, letting go of my thighs only long enough to tear off his clothes, buttons and fabric flying free as his claw-tipped fingers made quick work of them.

And then he was there, hot and demanding at my pussy as he sheathed himself in one possessive stroke. The stretch was blindingly delicious, and we rode the wave of pleasure together as he pounded into me, eyes aglow and grip so tight, it was going to leave handprints tomorrow.

But I didn’t care. I wanted it all, I wanted him to mark me, claim me, take me. Even when we bonded, he hadn’t really let go.

This side of him? This completely unhinged, feral side? It was only mine, something he held back from everyone else in his life. This was for his mate.

When the next orgasm hit, those waves of bliss making me see flashing stars behind my eyes, it was his name that I screamed, his punishing strokes that lit me on fire, his roars of pleasure that filled my ears as he crashed into the ocean of lust right along with me.

His wild, reckless heart that I stole, that I was never, ever giving back.