“Always.”
Jealousy is my nature, my oldest vice, my truest devotion. I will never stop wanting to own every breath she takes, even knowing she can never truly be owned. It’s the balance between us, the hunger that keeps eternity from growing cold.
The waltz ends. Applause follows, scattered and nervous, because they feel what we are even if they don’t understand it.
I turn to the room, my voice low but carrying. “My friends,” I say, “the night is long and pleasure is short. Take your leave before I forget my manners.”
Laughter ripples, uncertain. Then fear catches it by the throat.
Within minutes the ballroom empties; silk, laughter, perfume vanishing into the corridors until only the echo of footsteps remains.
Then the doors shut, locking the world outside.
Silence. Candlelight. Her.
Elara stands at the center of the floor, the red of her gown blending with the blood-red drapes, her eyes gleaming in the half-light. “You didn’t have to chase them all away,” she says, though her voice is already softer, darker.
“Yes, I did. I couldn’t wait one second longer to fuck you.”
I cross to her, unhurried, every step deliberate. She doesn’t move as I take her glass, set it aside, and draw her against me.
Her heartbeat stirs under my palm, a fragile, perfect rhythm that once stopped the world.
“This night is ours again,” she whispers.
“It is. Every breath. Every gasp. Every hole.”
“Prove it.”
I do.
I lower my mouth to hers, tasting wine and memory.
The kiss deepens, slow and consuming, until the only sound is breath and silk. The candles flare, painting the ceiling in gold and shadow. She tilts her head back, offering me her throat.
When my fangs graze her skin, her fingers clutch my shoulders. “Yes, my love. Always yes,” she gasps.
The taste of her floods my mouth, ancient and sweet, a reminder of everything I almost lost.
She answers in kind, teeth at my wrist, her tongue finding the vein. Our blood mingles again and the bond reigniting until the very air hums with it.
We dance, and we fuck. I come in her pussy, then her mouth, then her ass.
And when we do it all over again…when she wraps her beautiful legs around me and I lift her, it isn’t with hands alone—it’s withwill.
Power gathers low in my spine, spills into the air, and suddenly her body rises with mine, weightless and wanting, hovering five feet above the floor. Then ten. Twenty.
“Lucien—” she gasps, arms tightening around my neck as I guide her higher, our bodies suspended in the velvet-dark hush of the empty ballroom.
“A new trick,” I murmur against her lips, thrusting into her as we hover above the marble floor. “You like it?”
Her answer is a broken moan, her legs locking around my hips, her nails raking down my back. “Sublime. More,” she breathes. “Gods, more.”
So I give her everything.
I keep us suspended with one hand splayed against her spine, the other gripping her thigh as I drive into her, slow at first, then deeper, harder, each thrust sending us drifting in a lazy circle above the chandeliers.
“Look at you,” I growl, kissing her open mouth, tasting her need. “Flying for me… squeezing me with your beautiful cunt like you were made for this. Come for me, my love.”
