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Chapter thirty-five

Annabella

A nnabella

His lips were soft against mine, hesitant at first, then increasingly urgent. The world narrowed to just this—his mouth on mine, his hand cupping the back of my neck, his scent enveloping me like a shield against everything outside this room.

I drank in this feeling like someone dying of thirst. Not just tolerated—not just accepted despite my flaws—but wanted .

Desired. Like every broken piece of me was exactly what he’d been searching for.

The sensation was so foreign, so impossibly sweet, that it made my chest ache with the intensity of it.

Felix pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Annabella…” he breathed. He was going to say this wasn’t a good idea. That being together right now was risky. He was going to get up and leave, and that would be it.

I should let him, I really should. It was the sensible thing to do.

The responsible thing. But I was fed up with doing what was right all the time.

My entire world had tilted on its axis in the last few minutes.

The revelation that someone could look at my partial Shift—the thing I’d been taught to hide, to be ashamed of—and see something extraordinary instead of something monstrous was still rocking through me like aftershocks from an earthquake.

It was too much to process in one go. I needed to think about it, and the only thing I was sure about right now was that I didn’t want to think anymore.

“Make me forget everything. Please. Just for tonight.”

His eyes darkened. “That I can do,” he murmured, and then his mouth was on mine again, more demanding this time, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips before slipping inside.

I wound my fingers into his hair as his hands slid down my sides, gentle but firm, leaving trails of heat in their wake. When his fingers brushed the strip of exposed skin between my tank top and sleep shorts, I shivered.

“Cold?” he murmured against my lips.

I shook my head. “The opposite.”

Without warning, I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him back onto the camp bed. His eyes widened in surprise as I straddled him.

“My turn,” I said, surprising myself with my boldness.

But something about the way Felix looked at me—like I was capable of anything—made me brave.

I ran my palms up his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him through his T-shirt. When my fingers reached the collar, I hesitated only briefly before pulling it up and over his head.

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

His torso was a masterpiece of lean muscle and subtle scars that told stories I wanted to know.

Just not tonight. Tonight was for feeling, not talking, not thinking.

My fingers traced a particularly jagged scar curved along his ribs on the right side.

I bent down and pressed my lips to it, feeling him tense beneath me. My witch side stirred, magic tingling at my fingertips. Without thinking, I let a small pulse of energy flow from my lips to his skin.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “What was that?” His voice was rough, strained. “It felt like… like every pleasure receptor in my body just lit up at once. Like you were touching me everywhere.”

“Magic,” I admitted softly, waiting for him to recoil.

Instead, his hands found my hips, fingers digging in slightly. “Do it again.”

The acceptance in his voice made something inside me bloom. I traced his six-pack with my finger, then my lips, channeling a whisper of magic into his skin. His chest rose and fell more rapidly, his scent sharpening with arousal.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips shifting restlessly beneath me. “It’s like you’re sending waves of pure pleasure through me. I didn’t know witchcraft could feel like that.”

“I’m betting there’s a lot you don’t know about what witchcraft can do.”

As if to demonstrate, I placed my palm flat against his chest, directly over his heart, and let my magic warm and expand. The energy flowed between us like a living thing, creating waves of gentle pressure and heat that made his entire body tense with pleasure.

“Fuck, Annabella,” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips tighter. The raw need in his voice sent heat spiraling through me, and suddenly, my tank top felt suffocating against my skin.

I needed it gone. Needed to feel his hands on me the way mine were on him.

I grabbed the hem and pulled it over my head, tossing it aside. The cool air hit my skin like a shock, pebbling my nipples, and for a moment, self-consciousness crept in. I started to lift my hands to cover myself, but Felix caught my wrists before I could.

“Don’t,” he breathed, his eyes drinking me in like I was something sacred. “You’re beautiful.”

He knifed up, capturing my hands behind my back with one hand. He brushed a thumb lightly over one nipple, then took the other one in his mouth.

Holy Mother, Goddess of Darkness!

My spine arched involuntarily, a sound escaping my throat that was half gasp, half moan.

The magic sparked between us, creating a bridge that sometimes formed during moments when witches let their guard down.

Suddenly, I could feel echoes of his desire flooding through me, mixing with my own until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.

Every sensation doubled, tripled, creating a feedback loop that made my vision blur.

Felix went rigid beneath me, his mouth releasing my nipple as his eyes flew wide. “What the hell—?”

“It’s a witch thing,” I said breathlessly, anxiety cutting through the haze of pleasure. “I should have warned you it might happen. I can shut it down if—”

“Shut it down?” He looked at me like I’d suggested cutting off his arm. “You mean you can feel what I’m feeling right now?”

I nodded, searching his face for signs of overwhelm or revulsion. “It creates a loop that amplifies…” I trailed off, suddenly self-conscious. “I’ve been told it can be intense for non-witches. Most people find it too intense.”

A slow, devastatingly wicked smile spread across his face. “Too intense?” His fingers tightened on my hips, and I felt his spike of arousal through the connection like a physical touch. “Yeah? Let’s see just how intense.”

He pulled me down for another kiss, and this time, I deliberately sent a pulse of magic through the connection, enhancing the sensitivity of every nerve ending where we touched. Felix’s entire body shuddered beneath me.

“Fucking hell, Annabella,” he groaned against my lips. “That’s…”

“Too much?”

“Fuck no,” he breathed. “Do it again.”

I traced patterns across his chest, his shoulders, his abdomen. Each touch sparked between us, pleasure ricocheting back and forth through our magical connection.

His breath came in short gasps, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my core clench with want.

“Stand up,” he said suddenly, his voice rough with need.

I blinked, confused by the abrupt command.

“Trust me,” he added, his expression softening slightly.

I climbed off him and stood beside the bed. Felix sat up and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts. He removed them in one smooth motion, leaving me in just my underwear. But instead of continuing, he sat back on his heels, eyes roaming over me.

“Um?” I asked, not sure what to do.

“Don’t move. I’m memorizing you,” he said simply.

No one had ever looked at me like that before—like I was a rare work of art they’d discovered by accident. I swallowed hard against the emotion rising in my throat.

Then he reached out and slid my underwear down my legs, helping me step out of them. I stood before him, completely naked, fighting the urge to cover myself.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Before I could respond, he shifted on the bed, lying flat on his back. “Come here,” he said, patting his chest.

I frowned, confused. “What do you—?”

“Kneel over me,” he clarified. “Above my face.”

My eyes widened as understanding dawned. “Er… I’ve never—”

“I know. Let me show you. I want to taste you while I touch you.”

The raw hunger in his voice sent a shiver through my entire body. Hesitantly, I climbed onto the narrow bed, one knee on either side of his head. I felt exposed, vulnerable in a way I’d never been before.

“Like this?”

Felix’s hands found my hips, guiding me lower. “I’ve got you.”

I braced my hands against the wall for support, still uncertain.

“Relax, Moonbeam,” he said, his breath warm against my inner thigh.

His hands slid up from my hips to cup my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples. At the same time, he lifted his head and ran his tongue along my center in one long, deliberate stroke.

My mind went blank. The intensity of it, the combination of sensations—his hands on my breasts, his tongue right there —was incredible. My head fell back, and I arched into his touch.

He flicked his tongue across my clit, and it was like an electric shock of pure bliss surging through me with each flick. I knew he could sense what I was feeling, and the loop sent a surge of pleasure straight to me.

This was what he was feeling? He was so turned on right now, so focused on me, that it blew my mind. It was hot, sexy and I could feel myself becoming slicker, could feel my own wetness dripping down my legs.

Felix’s arm wrapped around my hips, anchoring me against him, and the solid strength of his hold made me feel safe even as I came apart.

With his other hand, he kept kneading my breasts, first one, then the other.

I gasped, coherent thought scattering as pleasure coursed through me in relentless waves.

The ache between my thighs had become a desperate, throbbing need.

I wanted him—needed to feel him buried deep inside me, stretching me, filling me until there was nothing left but the two of us moving together.

His mouth was pure sin against my most sensitive flesh, tongue circling my swollen clit with devastating precision before sucking it between his lips. Each stroke made me feel more sensitive, more desperate, until every nerve ending screamed for more.