Because that's what this was. What it had always been, from the moment I first saw him. The moment I first felt him.
And as I collapsed onto his chest, his arms wrapping around me, his heart pounding hard against mine, I knew.
I was his. And he was mine.
Forever.
"Mine," he growled against my hair.
"Yours," I agreed, too overwhelmed to say anything else, my voice raw from the emotions still crashing through me.
He growled in agreement.
"Stay," I whispered. "Stay here tonight."
"Little witch," he murmured, his hold tightening possessively, "I'm never leaving."
Chapter 13
Talin
I woke to warmth.
Not the artificial heat of piled blankets or the suffocating closeness of too many clothes. Real warmth. Living warmth. The kind that came from another body pressed against mine, solid and safe and here.
Elias.
My eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the pale morning light barely filtering through my curtains. His muscled arm was draped across my waist, holding me tight against his chest. I could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, the rise and fall of his ribs against my back. Could smell the clean scent of his skin.
I'd never woken up naked next to anyone before.
It was… strange.
I had half a mind to scramble out of bed and find my clothes so I could hide my deformity before he saw it in the bright light of day. But I didn't move. Didn't want to move. Because this—lying here in his arms, feeling the silver thread between us pulse with quiet satisfaction—this felt right in a way nothing else ever had.
I shifted slightly, feeling the delicious ache between my legs and in my muscles as I turned in his embrace so I could see his handsome face. He looked different in sleep. The harsh lines of control softened, the perpetual tension in his jaw eased. His short dark hair was mussed, making him look almost vulnerable.
Almost.
Because even in sleep, there was something formidable about Elias Noire. Something that whispered of violence held in check, of power barely contained. I could see it in the breadth of his shoulders, the corded muscle of his arms. In the way his large hand, even now, rested possessively on my hip.
Mine, that touch said.
And gods help me, I wanted to be his.
My gaze drifted lower, tracing the landscape of his chest. Olive skin marked with thin white scars that crisscrossed his tattooed torso like a map of old battles. I wondered about each one. Wondered what he'd survived to earn them.
Before I could stop myself, I lifted my hand and traced one of the lines. A long, thin slash that ran from his collarbone to his sternum. The skin was smooth beneath my fingertips, cool and unmarked by time or the dark hair that covered his chest. My scar was rougher. Angrier. A jagged reminder of what had been cut away.
But Elias had kissed it last night.
Kissed it like it was beautiful. Like I was beautiful.
"You're thinking too loud, little witch."
His voice was rough with sleep, sending a shiver down my spine. I looked up to find his dark eyes watching me, lazy and warm and filled with something that made my breath catch.
"I didn't mean to wake you," I whispered.
