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Lyric sat at the kitchen island, wrapped in his shirt, drowning in his scent. Her body was wrecked, ruined, reshaped. And she loved every bruised, aching inch of it.

And there he was—her executioner turned caretaker. Standing at the stove with that quiet, lethal grace, moving with an authority that felt as natural as breathing. The man who had shattered her only to piece her back together in ways no one else ever could.

His bare chest was a masterpiece of strength and ink, tattoos coiling over his scalp, down his neck, across the sculpted muscles of his back. The brutal perfection of him made her pulse thrash and her thighs clench, aching from how thoroughly he’d claimed her.

Nidev flipped something golden-brown in the cast iron skillet, the aroma thick and sweet. Creole-style pancakes, from the scent of it. Somehow, the most primal and cultured man she’d ever known was also the kind to make her breakfast like he hadn’t spent the night breaking her open.

She let her gaze trace the flex of his shoulders, remembering how they strained beneath her fingers, how they tensed when he came. Everything about him—his scars, his strength, his devastating beauty—made her stomach tighten and her chest burn with something so powerful it terrified her.

Nidev glanced over his shoulder, his silver eyes catching her staring. “What?” His voice was still gravel and sin, rough from sleep and from the things he’d done to her.

She didn’t even think. Just sighed. Smiled. “I think I might love you.”

The air shifted, his entire body going still. Then he turned off the burner, set the pan aside with a deliberate calm that only made her heart pound harder.

He walked toward her, his gaze feral and assessing, the predatory gleam making her entire body tense. He stopped before her, towering like some avenging god clothed in ink and skin. His hand covered her throat, fingers curling—not squeezing, just holding. Owning.

“You think,” he murmured, his lips grazing her cheek, breath hot against her skin, “or you know?”

The raw command in his voice made her body shudder even as she smiled. “…I think… I know.”

His grin spread, dark and burning. “Angel,” he murmured. Warned. Then his mouth crashed on hers, slow and devastating, drowning her in him.

The kiss was both possessive and tender, his tongue stroking hers with a reverence that only made her need him more. When he pulled back, she was boneless, her body trembling, her mind spinning.

“Would you like me to list precisely what I love about you?” His voice dropped to a dark, silky murmur, his fingers trailing down her jaw and over her lips. “How utterly captivating you are when you yield to me? How much I adore the way you break apart beneath my hands, only to piece yourself back together stronger and even more beautiful?”

Her chest tightened as she locked onto his gaze. “Yes,” she whispered. “I want to hear everything.”

He released her throat and pulled the chair behind him, setting it exactly next to hers so his face was inches away. “I love the way you challenge me. The way your spirit refuses to be tamed even when you surrender to me.” His fingers slid along both sides of her jaw, his gaze on her mouth. “It’s intoxicating.”

His gaze rose to hers. “And I love how you look right now… wearing my shirt… smelling like me. Unaware of how breathtaking you are. Of how much I need you.”

Her entire body shivered under the weight of his words. “Nidev…”

“And that ,” he whispered, his thumb dragging softly over her lower lip. “The way you say my name.” His voice turned darker, rougher. “Especially when you’re falling apart. When your voice breaks. When you beg me to never stop.”

Her face flamed, her thighs pressing together at the memory. “I—”

He lips curved with a wicked look before he returned to the stove. He put the pancakes on a plate and drowned them in syrup before bringing them to her.

She smiled at the thick, decadent yumminess, picking up the fork. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me cut my own pancakes,” she teased, pressing the edge of her utensil through the fluffy layers.

He snatched the fork from her and took over the job, making her giggle with a sigh.

“I can get used to this royal treatment.”

“You need to,” he warned in low dominance. “I intend to give you everything you need.”

God, her smile couldn’t get any bigger as she watched him create perfect squares of her food then set her fork down.

She stabbed three of them and brought it to his mouth. “Big bite,” she said as he stared at her.

He finally leaned in, taking it in one go, his gaze seducing her as he chewed.

“Very good, my beautiful King,” she said, eating her own bite before melting with a “Mmmmm, this is so good!”

****

Nidev couldn’t stop watching her. His woman. His queen. His wife according to the Marsh Kings. Draped in his shirt like a regal mantle, drowning in his scent and the aftermath of everything they’d done to each other. She radiated satisfaction and something purer. Something that tightened around his chest with ruthless precision.

The serene expression on her face was almost terrifying to look at. It carried a promise so beautiful he feared even acknowledging it might break the spell. The kind of dream a man like him would never claim.

But she had claimed him. In ways no Binding Rite could ever express. And now, he found himself standing at the edge of something that seemed impossible.

“You’re going to spoil me,” she murmured with that soft, devastating smile of hers, feeding him another bite of pancake. “Making me breakfast, feeding me like I’m your queen.”

His lips twitched into a grin. “You are my queen. And you shall be indulged accordingly.”

She laughed, the pure sound cutting him. A pain had never felt more forbidden or more necessary. When she looked at him with such radiant contentment, it threatened to unmake him.

Ever since he prepared the little cottage for their Binding Ritual, her words from that night kept circling through his mind.

What if we brought your sister and my brother here?

He hadn’t been able to keep it filed away. It kept leaping from the confines of its neural cage, requiring him to shove it back in while he focused on healing Doo-nie. And for all his power, he now realized he’d been a coward. Deceiving himself into believing that protecting his sister from the world’s reach was enough. That holding her at a distance and fulfilling his duty to her was enough. But that had been a lie. One he’d buried so deep he could no longer taste its bitterness.

Until Lyric. Until the very act of helping her unravel her own fears had revealed his own. He’d failed his sister and convinced himself she was safer without him. But the truth was, he couldn’t bear the idea of causing one more shadow in her eyes. Or the fact that he was the reason they were there to begin with.

And then came his Doo-nie’s liberation. It flooded into him like a torrent, shattering chains not just in her but him. Her freedom had unlocked his.

His gaze roamed the modest cottage, taking in the quiet beauty of it. The kind of beauty that whispered of possibilities. Of something that could last.

“What do you think of this place?” he asked, keeping his tone carefully casual. But even as he spoke, his fingers traced over her wrist, stroking the delicate skin as if tethering himself to her warmth.

She gave him a curious glance. “The cottage?”

“Yes.” His eyes swept over the room once more. “Does it suit you?”

Her gaze softened, the question stirring something deep within her. “I love it. It feels... pure. Hidden away from all the chaos. Like... a sanctuary where something beautiful could grow.”

The elegance of her words twined around his chest, squeezing with brutal tenderness. “A place that could be ours.”

Her gaze held his, a cautious light flickering to life. “You mean...?”

He took a steadying breath, letting the truth sharpen his voice. “You mentioned something before. About bringing your brother here to the swamp… and my sister.”

She stilled, her gaze now intent. Expectant. “Yes.”

“When you first spoke of it, I wanted to discard the idea. Bury it before it could fester into something I couldn’t stand to lose.” His fingers continued their slow, deliberate stroking over her wrist, his eyes tracing her features, the only map he would ever need. “I told myself it wasn’t possible. That she was better off away from…”

The truth cut a bloody path through him and he moved his gaze to the light filtering through the window. “It was cowardice masquerading as protection,” he admitted. “I buried myself in the illusion that my distance was a shield, rather than the fear of failing her. Again.”

Her fingers threaded through his, a silent encouragement.

“I think...” His voice dropped, thick with the weight of his own revelation. “Your freedom somehow bled into me. Made it impossible to pretend I was incapable of believing in something more.”

He met her gaze, his words now steady, resolute. “And I want it. I want everything you offered, I want to build something here. With you. With them. A life and a real family. And I swear to you, I will do whatever it takes to make it real, I will not hide, I will not run or cower.”

The sound she made was more a sob than a laugh, her body launching into his arms with the kind of wild, unrestrained joy that had the power to destroy him.

“Yes!” she choked out, her mouth crashing into his. “Yes! A million yeses!” She pulled back, her gaze ferocious and gleaming. “We’re really going to do this? We’re going to bring them here and we’re going to make this everything it’s meant to be?”

He cradled her face, locking his gaze on her. “Yes,” he vowed. “And nothing will prevent me from giving you everything you deserve.”

“And what you deserve,” she added, squirming her way into his lap so she sat facing him with a smile that suffocated him with hope. “No, what we deserve,” she said, pressing her smiling lips softly on his. “And what all our little future Nidevs deserve.”

Her words wrecked into him, locking his entire body up. Future Nidevs? His blood? His name? His legacy?

The fucking prodigy program .

They were it, they were officially one of the first successful couples.

The idea of creating something that precious with her, with their bloodlines, made him ache for it. But the sheer magnitude of it crushed him.

“What!” she laughed, searching his gaze.

His hands tightened on her hips as if anchoring himself to reality. “As in... children,” he said, right at her. “Tiny, fragile, half-wild creatures... who are ours .”

“Yes,” she laughed, her eyes glinting with that wicked delight she always took in pushing him to his limits. “Ours. Little boys and girls who look like you. With your eyes. Your strength.”

He swallowed as his chest rioted with panic and joy, both warring for dominance. “But I’m…”

“Perfect,” she assured, reading his doubts with a smile so pure it almost hurt. “You’re perfect. And you’ll love them, and you’ll protect them. Just like you’ve protected everyone you care about. Only this time... you’ll be doing it with me. Win-win.”

The truth of it burrowed deep, snapping his fears apart piece by piece. He drew in a ragged breath, his head lowering to rest against her forehead. “You want that?” he whispered. “Little terrors with my eyes and your stubbornness?”

She laughed, her fingers threading around the back of his neck. “Yes. I want that. I want you. All of you. ”

His eyes closed, his heart pounding. “Then that’s what you’ll have.”

The grin she gave him then was pure sunlight. “I love you.”

He groaned, his arms locking around her like he could fuse her body to his. “This…this is love,” he whispered, some part of him just now comprehending it. He regarded her as she laughed bigger at that. “The obsession, the lust, the insanity,” he marveled, stunned, locking his gaze on her. “That’s love.”

She gave a huge shrug with wide, happy eyes. “Seems so.”