Page 67 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)

I hold still for a moment, almost overwhelmed by the sensation of her body surrounding mine. Her power pulses in rhythm with her heartbeat, while my shadows curl around us both.

Then I begin to move, setting a rhythm that starts slow but quickly builds in intensity. Her hips rise to meet each thrust, her hands clutching at my shoulders, my back, anywhere she can reach. The sounds she makes—small gasps, broken moans—drive me to push harder, faster.

“Look at me,” I demand when her eyes start to close from pleasure.

She does, silver-rimmed irises holding mine as we move together. The intimacy of it is almost too much to bear, more exposed, more vulnerable than the physical act itself. I nearly look away, but force myself to maintain the connection, to acknowledge what is happening between us.

Her legs wrap around my waist, changing the angle, taking me deeper, and my control fractures, a low sound escaping despite my earlier admonishment for silence.

“Who can’t be quiet now?” There’s a triumphant note to her whisper, even as her breathing grows more ragged.

In response, I shift my weight to one arm, and slide my hand between our bodies. She tenses when my fingers connect with her clit.

“Still you.” I circle my fingers in time with my thrusts.

Her release takes her by surprise, body clenching around me, back arching up.

She buries her face against my shoulder to muffle her cries, nails digging into my back hard enough to leave marks.

The sensation of her body pulsing around mine, the sight of silver light washing over her skin in waves, is enough to send me following immediately after.

For one blinding moment, pleasure obliterates everything else. The world narrows to where our bodies join, where our powers intertwine. Time seems to stretch and compress. There is only this perfect connection, this impossible joining of powers that should never have met.

My shadows and her silver spiral together, merge completely, become something neither darkness nor brilliance, but both at the same time.

The air around us vibrates with it. In the space between heartbeats, I glimpse flashes of what we might become together.

Power beyond what either of us could access alone, the fulfillment of words from a prophecy I want to deny.

Two forces never meant to meet shall intertwine, the union defies the patterns of ages past.

I understand now why I’ve fought against this connection, why every instinct screamed danger. Not because it will destroy me, but because it will change me.

We stay tangled together, our breathing gradually slowing. My shadows keep their protective barrier, sheltering us from the outside world. Her fingers trace idle patterns across my back, following paths where sweat cools against my skin.

“I won.” There’s smug satisfaction in her tone.

“Won what?”

“You made more noise than I did.”

I laugh, the sound surprising me. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, you did.” She props herself up on one elbow, hair falling around her face. “And I definitely won.”

“If that’s what you need to believe.” I brush her hair away from her face, allowing myself this moment.

Her hand moves to my face, fingertips tracing the line of my cheekbone with a tenderness that aches more than any torture I’ve suffered.

“Promise me you’re not planning something foolish.” The lightness of her voice fails to mask the fear behind her words.

I turn my head to kiss her palm, breathing in her scent. Memorizing it. “I promise my intention is to survive.”

She bites her lip, studying me. “That’s not the same as promising not to take unnecessary risks.”

“It’s what I can offer.” I hold her gaze, willing her to understand what I can’t say. That some things can only be paid in one currency, that some battles must be fought alone, that the man who betrayed me needs to face the Shadowvein Lord, not the man I’m becoming in her presence.

For the first time in my life, I find myself wishing I could be something other than what destiny has carved me into. Something simpler, something worthy of the desire in her eyes.

She sighs, but doesn’t push further.

“We should return to the camp.” I help her to her feet, and we dress in the confines of the shadows, her fingers lingering when they brush against mine.

When we’re finished, I release the darkness, allowing moonlight to touch us once again.

The camp remains quiet as we walk through it to where her bedroll lies.

I don’t leave her to sleep alone, but stretch out beside her, and she settles against me, her head on my shoulder. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep, while I remain vigilant, aware that tomorrow has so many ways to go wrong.

Whatever the future brings, one thing has emerged from tonight, no longer possible for me to ignore or deny.

The woman sleeping beside me has become essential in ways I never anticipated.

In ways that contradict every lesson survival has taught me.

The thought should trouble me. A connection like this represents vulnerability, risk, and potential compromise.

I can’t afford attachments. History has proven this repeatedly in blood and betrayal.

Yet I find myself not resisting, but accepting this new reality.

Embracing it, even. The silver storm she sent through my body to heal me has changed more than just the visible wounds.

Or perhaps it simply woke up something that was already there, buried beneath layers of duty and years of isolation.

My fingers stroke the curve of her shoulder, watching how my shadows caress her skin, and the words of the prophecy whisper through my mind again.

Where shadow leads, storm will follow .

I assumed it meant my destruction. Now I’m no longer sure that’s the case.

Whatever it is, in this moment, I allow myself to acknowledge what I’ve been fighting against for so long.

I am more than my purpose, my birthright, and my shadows.

I am prophecy brought to life.