When she starts to fall apart, her hands clutching at my chest, her rhythm faltering and her breath hitching like a sob, something inside me snaps.
I surge with her, into her, my hips rising to meet hers, matching the tempo she set, surrendering to it as my release tears through me. Hot, shuddering, complete.
She cries out, back arching, muscles tightening around me as she follows, her body trembling in waves above mine.
We come undone together. Not in chaos—not my usual thing—but in something that's as close to holy as a damned creature like me can approach.
When the tremors pass, when her breath stills to soft exhales, and she sways above me, spent, I reach up without thinking and pull her down into my chest.
No words. No smirk. No tease. Just my arms wrapping around her, strong and sure, holding her close. Her cheek rests against my shoulder, lips brushing my collarbone. I feel her heartbeat still racing, matching mine.
For a while, we just breathe in sync, tangled.
And I realize—this… this right here is something I've never done. Held someone like it mattered this much. Not after. Not ever.
But I don't let go. Because right now, with her skin against mine, her scent in my lungs, and her heartbeat soft against my chest, I don't want to be anywhere else.
Maybe I never did.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sage
My body wakes before my mind does.
Heat. Muscle. The lazy grip of a predator who, somehow, has become mine.
Last night was… insane. My limbs ache in all the best ways, a delicious soreness that curls through me like satisfaction made flesh.
I shift slightly, and Kayden tightens his hold, pulling me flush against his chest.
"You're not sneaking away from me, nymph," he mumbles into my hair, voice thick with sleep.
"I wasn't planning to," I murmur. "Just wanted to check the time."
He groans. "Pretty sure it's time for my brother to bang every dish in the kitchen."
"I don't hear anything," I say, snuggling back into him. "Didn't you say the rooms have magical soundproofing?"
"The rooms, yeah. Not the kitchen. I hear the clanging. It's offensive."
I grin. "Do you hear coffee?"
Kayden lets out a half-laugh. "What sound does coffee make exactly?"
"'Drink meee,'" I say, trying not to laugh at my own joke.
He groans again, this time dramatically. "That's a terrible joke."
"It's a pre-coffee joke. No judging allowed."
"Fine, fine." His lips brush the side of my neck. "You're lucky you're cute."
I stretch beneath the sheets. "I'm gonna shower."
There's a beat of silence. Then, hopeful: "Do you need—"
"No," I interrupt, already anticipating where that offer's headed. "If you come in, we won't make it out today."
