Page 39

SYLVIE

T he moon hung heavy over Shifter’s Rest, casting the hidden grove in a veil of silver and shadow.

Moss glistened like velvet beneath Sylvie’s bare feet as she stepped into the clearing.

Her wedding gown whispered against the stones, the hem shimmering like spilled mercury in the candlelight.

Dozens of votives—each lit hours ago with whispered spells and sealed with her breath—hovered midair, their flames dancing between gold and violet with every shift of wind and pulse of magic.

Nicholas’s hands found the clasp between her shoulder blades.

"This took you thirty minutes to get into," he murmured, voice low, reverent.

She leaned back into him, letting her hips nestle against the unmistakable pressure of his cock pressing through his slacks. The crimson mating runes that curled across his sun-kissed skin glowed faintly, wrapping over his chest and shoulders like ancient fire.

"Good thing you’ve got those clever claws," she whispered, her voice a little breathless already.

He chuckled—rough and dark—and the sound vibrated through her spine just as the clasp gave way. Her dress fell like water, pooling at her feet, leaving her bare to the night air and his gaze. Cool wind kissed her spine an instant before his mouth did.

His teeth grazed the sensitive dip where her neck met her shoulder, and she gasped, swaying back into him. “Still think candles are just for warding?” he murmured, licking along the arch of her neck.

“Still think shifters don’t burn?” she whispered, arching her back as his hands slid up her ribs to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples through the lace of her bridal lingerie, teasing until they peaked under his touch.

His cock ground against her ass, hard and heavy.

She turned in his arms, breath catching at the wildness in his eyes—amber flickering with a predator’s hunger, barely held in check.

“I think…” Her fingers curled around his belt buckle. She tugged it open, slow and deliberate, the leather hissing as it slipped through the loops. “…someone’s been neglecting their containment rituals.”

His breath stuttered when her fingers dipped into the waistband of his pants, dragging them down just enough to free his cock.

It sprang free, thick and flushed, pulsing in the cool air.

Her mouth watered at the sight of him—long, veined, perfect.

He smelled like pine needles crushed underfoot, musk and warm spice, and something deeply, instinctively male.

“Flamekeeper.” His voice cracked slightly as his hand caught her wrist. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to.” She dropped to her knees on the moss-soft earth. “Let me taste what’s mine.”

The tiger purred beneath his skin as he fisted her hair—not to guide, just to ground himself.

She dragged her tongue along the underside of his cock, from base to tip, tasting him—salt, sweat, want. He trembled beneath her, abs flexing under the effort to hold still.

“Fuck, Sylvie…” His hips jerked when she wrapped her lips around the head, hollowing her cheeks.

His cock filled her mouth, thick and hot, and she took him in deeper, moaning as magic sparked over her skin.

The candles overhead flared with each flick of her tongue, golden light pulsing in rhythm with his moans.

“Stop,” he rasped. “Or I’m going to come down your throat.”

She pulled back with a wet pop and smirked up at him. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

His growl shook petals from the magnolia overhead.

In one smooth movement, he hauled her up. Her back met the warm stone bench as he tore her panties clean off with a clawed swipe, tossing them into the shadows. “Need to be inside you. Now.”

She hooked a leg over his hip, guiding him to her with a wicked smile. “Then claim your wife properly.”

He pressed the blunt head of his cock to her soaked entrance. She arched into him as he thrust forward—slow at first, the stretch burning, exquisite, inevitable. Her pussy welcomed him with a shuddering clench, heat coiling low in her belly.

His body covered hers, shielding her from the world as he braced his forearms beside her shoulders. “Sylvie…” he breathed against her throat, trembling. “You’re so fucking tight. So wet.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking him in place. “So move.”

He did.

Each thrust punched air from her lungs. His cock filled her, stroked against every nerve, dragging gasps and curses from her lips. Her hands raked down his back, blunt nails scraping the mating runes as they pulsed brighter.

With every thrust, her magic spilled free—embers rising from her skin, floating upward to merge with the candlelight above. “Yes… gods, yes,” she gasped. “Harder, Nicholas—fuck, please —don’t stop.”

His thumb slid between them, rubbing her clit in tight, merciless circles. “You feel this?” he growled. “Every time your pussy clenches around my cock—it’s like you’re branding me from the inside out.”

“I am .” She met his gaze, stormy eyes blown wide. “I’m claiming you right back.”

He surged harder, hips snapping into hers until the slap of skin on skin echoed through the grove. “That’s right. Let it burn, witch. Let me see you fall apart.”

When she shattered, it wasn’t quiet.

Golden light blazed from her body, searing across his vision.

Her scream tore through the clearing as her pussy clamped around his cock, milking him into ecstasy.

Nicholas lost control. The tiger took over.

His fangs grazed her shoulder as he came with a roar, burying himself deep, spilling inside her as his claws raked across her hip.

Twin mating marks blazed to life—hers glowing on her left thigh, his a mirror image along his ribs. Their bond sealed in light and heat and irrevocable truth.

They collapsed, tangled in each other and the ruins of her dress, sweat-slicked and panting.

Nicholas nuzzled the sweat-damp hollow of her throat. "Round one to the witch."

Her laugh gusted out, fingers carding through his wild hair. "Tiger tapped out already?"

The growl against her breastbone raised every hair on her body. He surged up, flipping them so she straddled his lap. "Just getting started."

Moonlight silvered the scars on his chest as she rose on trembling thighs, hands braced against his pectorals. "Think you can handle-"

The rest became a gasp as she sank down, taking every throbbing inch. His hands spanned her waist, guiding her rhythm as candle flames shot upward in spiraling columns.

"Look at you," he breathed, thumb brushing her peaked nipple. "My fierce Flamekeeper queen."

She rolled her hips in answer, magic and pleasure building like a thunderhead.

When his mouth closed over her breast, tongue circling the aureole, the storm broke.

Golden light blazed through the garden as she came again, his roar of completion harmonizing with her cry as they continued to blend into the night and each other.