The moment we hit solid ground, I know exactly where we are.
The creek where we first met.
I flew here on instinct.
That quiet, sacred place with its soft green banks and glittering water. The dapples of moonlight through the high trees. That moss-covered boulder in the stream where this madness started. Where I first saw her and wanted her in ways I didn’t understand.
I fold my wings. My body shifts again. Back into human skin, and our flesh pressed together is the absolute best feeling this life could ever offer.
“You went full Dragon again,” she says, breathless.
“I feel like I could do it again,” I tell her, unable to stop the grin pulling at my mouth. It’s a rare thing. I’ve never felt so light and free in…maybe ever.
Her eyes brighten, and I swear my hoarding instincts sharpen to dangerous levels. I want to keep her looking at me like that forever. I want to gather every version of her smile and stash them somewhere only I can touch.
I shift her in my arms, still holding her like she belongs there. Because she’s mine. And I never have to let her go.
I cup the back of her head and lower my mouth to hers still afraid this is a dream. Her lips are trembling. So are mine. Fear. Awe. Hunger. Relief. All of it tangled up in something that feels bigger than words.
My fire still burns under my skin, alive and humming, but it doesn’t hurt her. It wraps around her. The hunger I thought would gnaw at me forever, has gone quiet. She fills it. Easily. Entirely.
We kiss.
Not rushed. Not desperate. Slow. Certain. The kind of kiss you give when time has stopped counting. When you know one kiss will become another, and another, and you have all the space in the world to take.
My hands frame her face. Her fingers slide into my hair. We breathe each other in like it’s the first breath after drowning.
I laugh against her lips. A real one. She laughs too.
“I can touch you,” she whispers.
“It’s perfect,” I say. And for once, there’s nothing brooding left in me to argue.
We collapse to the grass together. Limbs tangled. Hands roaming. Not frantic, curious. Possessive. Like I’m relearning her piece by precious piece, and adding every inch to my hoard.
I roll to my back, pulling her over me. Her palms on my chest, my hands skimming under her thighs. No rush. No need to feed. Just this. Just her.
The hunger doesn’t claw. It’s quiet. Satisfied.
My fire doesn’t threaten. It holds.
Her hands explore like she’s rediscovering me, but I’m memorizing every touch. I’m the one hoarding this.
She straddles my hips, her slick heat dragging against me, and I groan. Loud, wrecked, wanting.
Gods, how are we already this desperate?
My hands cup her ass, guiding her. Slow. Teasing. Drawing it out because I can. Because I want to.
“I don’t need you,” she says, smiling.
It hits like a punch. I freeze, looking up at her. Is she…
“No, not like that,” she huffs, rolling her eyes and swatting my chest. “I don’t need you. I’m not hungry. I justwantyou.”
Relief crashes through me so hard I almost laugh. I almost roar. Instead, I grin slow, wide, dangerous. “Thank the fae lords. Because I was ready to tie you up and throw you in my Dragon’s cave and never let you out even if you begged.”
Her eyebrows waggle. “Oh. Kinky.” She laughs in a carefree way I’m instantly addicted to. Yet another new sound I’ve inspired. I’m going to find and cause dozens and dozens more.
