Page 84 of Lady of Starfire (Lady of Darkness #5)

His own fire flared to life, rising up to protect him, and he tried to pull his magic back, to make it submit to Cass’s power. It was useless. That’s not how magic worked, not when its bearer was being directly attacked. This had to be done between their power, not their will.

He barked another curse when Cassius sent more magic into his veins, and Cyrus tried to pull away on instinct alone.

Cassius held his hand in a vice grip though, and at the movement, a growl came from him that had Cyrus falling still.

His magic stuttered for a moment too. There was nothing of the watchful, kind-hearted male on Cassius’s face.

This was just pure want and primal dominance at something he viewed as his trying to be taken from him.

“Let me have it, Cyrus,” Cassius demanded, his voice low and rough, and the way Cyrus wanted to do just that—

“Fuck!” Cyrus snapped when another wave of black flames slammed into him.

He couldn’t just lie here. His Fae nature wouldn’t allow it, even if he consciously knew what they were doing.

He surged up, flipping them so he was on top of Cassius, his teeth bared and fire slamming up against his black flames.

“Godsdamnit, Cyrus,” Cassius snarled, his eyes glowing brighter. He’d managed to maintain the grip on Cyrus’s hand, and his fingers tightened. “If we break this connection, we have to start over.”

Cyrus heard him, even understood the logic of that, but his primal Fae maleness didn’t give a fuck.

He snarled back, leaning in close. His elongated canines were getting dangerously close to Cassius’s throat when it was Cassius surging up.

They were both on their feet, and Cassius was forcing him back and back.

His wings ripped free, and smoke appeared on his next exhale as Cyrus’s back hit the wall hard.

“Cyrus.” His name was a feral order on his lips. A primal claiming. A demanding possession that again had his fire stuttering, and Cassius took the opportunity to wind his black flames around Cyrus’s magic so tightly, it had no choice but to give in.

Cords of orange and black erupted between them, twining together until there was no way to tell where one started and the other began before they flared a bright gold and settled into them.

Cyrus felt it in his soul. This connection was different from what he’d had with Merrik.

Different from the twin flame bond he’d had with Thia.

This was theirs. Solely theirs.

They were both breathing heavily, bodies still tense.

Cyrus tugged his hand from Cass’s grip, reaching out to tug the remains of Cass’s tunic from his chest. It had torn when his wings had appeared.

Of course, now it was just taut muscle for Cyrus to look at.

He tossed the shredded tunic aside, immediately reaching back to run his fingers along bare skin, but Cass caught his wrist before he could.

“You’re mine,” Cass said, his voice nothing but gravel as his fingertips brushed over the Source Mark on the back of Cyrus’s hand.

His eyes followed the movement, transfixed on the black Mark.

Cyrus could hear it in his voice, feel it in the tremble of his hand as he gripped his wrist. As his chest continued to rise and fall too rapidly.

He was on the brink of losing control. He was doing everything he could to keep it.

It struck Cyrus then that dragon possessiveness might rival Fae possessiveness.

Not only that, Cassius was part-dragon, part-Witch.

Both bloodlines were notorious for being dominant and controlling.

If he lost that control, it would shove him into his own dark place, but if Cyrus gave him that control …

“You said you take what’s yours,” Cyrus said into the space between them.

“I do,” Cass said gruffly, slowly dragging his eyes up to meet his, but they snagged on Cyrus’s mouth. Cass’s tongue darted out, running along his bottom lip as he stared.

Cyrus reached out, tugging him forward by the band of his pants. “Prove it.”

With another growl, Cassius’s hand snapped out, gripping the back of Cyrus’s neck and hauling him forward. Their mouths slammed together, and a new battle for dominance took place. This one with lips and tongues and teeth rather than magic and flames.

Cassius pressed Cyrus back into the wall once more, sinking his teeth into the line of his jaw as his hips rolled forward into Cyrus’s, making them both groan.

“Fuck,” Cyrus spat, his brow falling to Cass’s shoulder. Then he cursed again when Cass wedged a thigh between his legs, parting them enough so that when his hand pulled Cyrus’s thigh up to wrap around his hip, Cyrus could feel the friction everywhere it mattered.

A hand fisted in Cyrus’s hair, tipping his head back, and Cassius licked a long line up his throat before he brought his mouth to his ear and said, “On your knees, Cyrus. Make it sloppy so I can take what’s mine.”

That was the moment all coherent thought left.

As he sank to his knees, Cass pulled Cyrus’s tunic over his head, burning away the rest of their clothing, before planting a palm on the wall above them.

His hips rolled forward again, his tip brushing along the seam of Cyrus’s lips.

And because he was who he was, Cyrus smirked up at him before he flicked the tip of his tongue over his crown.

Cassius growled what Cyrus thought might be his name, but Cyrus was already taking him deep.

The growl became a curse. Cass’s other hand slid into Cyrus’s hair again, cupping the back of his head as he thrust forward.

Cyrus did as he’d ordered, sucking and licking and taking every surge of Cass’s hips.

“Cyrus,” Cass groaned, fingers flexing in his hair, and Cyrus knew what he wanted.

He didn’t need him to say it. He had one hand on Cass’s thigh, and he trailed his other hand up his torso, until Cass snatched his wrist. He took two fingers into his mouth, sucking hard, and Cyrus moaned around him as Cass’s tongue lapped over the digits.

The moment Cass released him, Cyrus was reaching around himself and getting ready for him the same way he was getting Cass ready.

The string of curse words that left Cassius had Cyrus huffing a laugh around him, but it turned into a moan a moment later, the sensation of his own fingers working himself open and Cass in his mouth almost too much.

Cass gave him the time he needed, but Cyrus could tell his control was slipping as his fingers fisted tighter and tighter in his hair. He had hardly pulled off him when Cassius was hauling him up and spinning him around to face the wall.

Then it was Cyrus cursing as he felt him press in slowly. Torturously slowly. Cyrus tried to press back, wanting more, but Cass hissed, holding him in place.

“Stop,” he snarled into his ear. “It’s been a while. For both of us.”

“Stop being so selfless,” Cyrus retorted on a gasp, trying to press back again. “You think I don’t know how to prepare myself for this? Take what you want, Cass.”

But still the prick refused, instead peppering small kisses along his shoulder, between his shoulder blades, up the back of his neck.

Teasing. Coaxing. There was the soft sound of spitting before one of Cass’s hands slipped around, gripping Cyrus’s length.

Then Cyrus was groaning as Cass slid in further while moving along his length at the same time.

“You think you need to fix yourself,” Cassius murmured into his ear. “But you’re perfect, Cyrus. Godsdamn perfect.”

Cyrus couldn’t help the shudder that rolled down his spine at the words, or the carnal groan that came from him when Cassius finally filled him completely. Cass’s face was buried in his neck, sucking along it as he continued to move his fist.

Cassius was wrong, Cyrus realized, getting lost in the sensation of everything. He wasn’t perfect. This was perfect.

It was perfect when they found themselves on the bed, Cassius above him, wings flared out as his hips punched forward in perfect rhythm with his fist wrapped around Cyrus’s length. Each movement was precise and controlled because it was Cass, and he couldn’t lose control even in this.

It was perfect when they both found their pleasure at nearly the same moment.

It was perfect when they were lying together later, legs tangled beneath blankets and facing each other in the dark of the room.

It was perfect when Cyrus realized he didn’t have the slightest desire for a drink or mugweed, because this was enough to keep his thoughts at bay.

It was perfect when, instead of hearing the Sorceress in his head as he drifted off to sleep, he heard Cassius’s words.

What’s best for me is you.

And he believed them.