Page 63 of Unravelled
She felt him, the tension in his body, the way his breath turned ragged, the way his rhythm faltered, shaking, frantic. A low, wrecked groan tore from his throat, his body tensing, shuddering, as he spilled into her, filling her, claiming her.
???
Ren's hold tightened, his fingers digging into her waist, anchoring her to him as reality splintered.
“Come back to me..” his voice was a whisper edged with desperation.
His hands slid upwards, one arm turning her to face him, the other curling into her hair, fingers tangling in the strands.
Her vision filled with him, dark eyes, shadows and fire, every sharp line of his face.
He paused for a heartbeat, searching her eyes.
His lips found hers in a heartbeat, a clash of heat and need.
The kiss was fierce, a claiming. His mouth moved against hers, a rhythm that was all-consuming, drawing the breath from her lungs.
The growl that rumbled through him sent a shiver down her spine, a sound that vibrated against her lips, slipped into her, and curled tight around her heart.
Her hands found his chest, nails scraping against the fabric, a desperate attempt to find balance when the floor felt as though it had disappeared beneath her.
His heartbeat pounded under her palms, a wild tempo that matched her own.
Ren’s mouth moved, tracing the curve of her jaw, the line of her throat, before returning to her lips.
His breaths were harsh, mingling with hers, a dance of warmth and urgency.
He kissed her like he couldn’t bear to stop, like every brush of their lips was a promise neither of them dared to voice.
The room spun around them, shadows and smoke stretching and twisting, but she couldn’t focus on anything but him.
His hands in her hair, his body pressed against hers.
The hunger in his eyes matched the ache in her chest. His grip tightened, and she felt the tremor in his hands, the fine edge of control slipping away.
“Ren...” she whispered. The word barely more than a breath and the moment it left her lips, something in him snapped.
With a swift, practiced motion, he snatched her up and slung her over his shoulder.
The world flipped, her view shifting to the ground.
She gasped, but it was lost in the noise of the hall.
His hand pressed against the back of her thigh, holding her steady as he turned, his stride long and purposeful.
Her heart thundered, a wild staccato that echoed through her.
She could feel the strength in him, every muscle coiled and ready, the tension beneath his skin palpable.
The heavy double doors crashed open, a rush of cool air slamming into her as he charged into the palace gardens.
The world spun with every step, her view an erratic mix of rain-soaked stone paths and the blurred canopy of storm clouds above.
His shoulder dug into her stomach, solid and unyielding, as he carried her.
Rain soaked through her hair, plastering it to her face, and every inhale brought the sharp, earthy scent of wet leaves and fresh rain.
She felt the cold seep through her, the chill a stark contrast to the heat of his skin against her.
Her world had narrowed to the sway of his steps, the drum of the rain, and the press of his hand against her leg.
They reached the edge of the garden, slipping through a narrow archway shrouded in ivy.
The world shifted, the sharp sting of rain giving way to the dim warmth of the palace interior.
He moved through an attendants corridor, the carpet muffling his footsteps.
Candlelight licked the stone walls, as the corridors curved around them.
Shadows danced along the stone walls, and with every step, the intensity between them simmered, a heat that wrapped around them both.
Ren’s breaths, harsh and fast, began to slow, each exhale a little steadier than the last.
His grip on her thigh loosened, just slightly, his fingers flexing against her skin as if he was trying to ground himself. His pace eased into something more measured, his boots striking the stone with quiet deliberation.
“Mira?” he murmured her name.
She could hear the change in his voice, the raw edge smoothing, the heat cooling into something softer, questioning. Ren placed her on the ground and his steps faltered. His shoulders tightened, a ripple of tension that ran through him.
The hallway was quiet, the distant sound of voices reduced to a muffled hum. His eyes found hers, wide and dark, the lingering effects of the Emberbane curling around her senses.The room still spun, the world softened at the edges, and every nerve felt as if it had been set alight.
His concern was written across his face, but it barely registered. The need inside her was burning. Hot, relentless, impossible to silence.
“You didn’t hurt me, Ren.” she breathed, but the word came out husky.
“I wasn’t, I didn’t mean...” His hands raked through his hair, the movement frantic. “The Emberbane... it, ” His breath came out in a shudder.
Mira moved. Her hands pressed against his chest, firm and insistent, and he staggered back, his shoulders hitting the cold stonewall. His breath rushed out in a sharp exhale, his eyes widening as she stepped into him, closing the space between them.
Her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. The Emberbane twisted through her, a thread of heat and need that tightened with every heartbeat. Her body pressed against his, his thigh slipping between her legs, the friction sparking something dangerous and undeniable.
“Mira...” his voice was hoarse, the sound scraping against the quiet of the corridor. His hands hovered at her waist, not pulling her closer, not pushing her away. “I need to think, ”
“I don't want you to think...” she admitted, her forehead resting against his throat.
Her breath came in quick, shallow bursts, every inhale pulling him deeper into her senses, the smoke and spice of him, the warmth of his skin.
A shudder ran through him, his fingers finally curling into her waist, an anchor as much for him as for her.
“It’s the Emberbane,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
“Then help me...” Her hips moved, a slow, intentional roll, and his breath shivered running through him. Mira felt him flexing under her. His grip tightened, and his head fell back against the wall with a quiet thud.
“Mira,” he groaned, the sound rich with need and struggle.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, and the darkness in them had softened, the shadows gentled. He looked fragile and unguarded. His hands moved, a quiet invitation, and he pulled her closer, their foreheads touching, their breaths mingling.
His voice was a murmur, a brush of warmth against her skin. “I can't say no to you...”
He slid his hand into hers, their fingers interlocking. The world around them seemed to hold its breath as he pulled her along, their steps fast and echoing.