It was an overwhelming combination of temptation, longing, and loathing, all wrapped up together in a fog of confused bliss.
His lips brushed mine.
Soft.
Tender.
Exploring.
Like he was waiting for me to bite him or stab him or shove him away. But my fingers sank into his sweater to pull him closer, my nails digging in just a little harder to make sure he felt my claws through the fabric.
I wanted to make him bleed.
I wanted to devour him.
I wanted to hear him beg me to spare him.
Just as much as I wanted to elicit a groan of approval from his throat.
His golden irises swirled with similar emotions, drawing out the intensity between us and darkening the moment.
Did we want to fuck or kill each other?
Did we want to kiss or fight?
Did we want to taste each other or make each other bleed?
Some wicked combination of all of the above.
I wanted to hurt him, but I also needed to embrace him.
“Fuck, Kayla,” he whispered, his breath hot against my parted lips. He sounded broken. Beaten down. Demolished by this mounting lust.
I felt every push and pull, every temptation and hesitation, every intense need mingled with darker desires.
His heart beat with mine. His body tensed. His pupils flared.
I sucked in a breath that was all him.
And he pressed his mouth to mine once more, this time harder, his touch filled with purpose and sinful vows neither of us should entertain.
But his tongue silenced all my reservations, destroyed every wall I could have built between us, and demanded that I forgive him. Just for a moment. Just enough to feed our starving souls.
Flames licked at my skin, my power reacting to Ezra’s nearness, his touch, hiskiss.
His energy swathed mine in the next second, cooling the inferno dancing around me and providing a healing element I’d never known existed.
Fire and ice.
Hell and Heaven.
Archdemon and Archangel.
A beautiful balance. A sweet surrender. An intoxicating embrace I would never forget.
He’d overridden the runes of my cuff, providing me with a solace unlike any other.
I clung to him, needing more, my tongue dueling his in a hungry battle of desire and despair. He engaged me in kind, walking me backward into the bookcase and lifting me up until my legs wrapped around his waist.
