“I hate you sometimes,” I snap, voice shaking with too many things I can’t name.
It’s a lie. We both know it.
My fists clench at my sides, shaking as I try to force the magic down, to contain it. But it's not listening. It wants out. And I’m losing the grip I swore I had.
Then suddenly, his hands are on my face.
I don’t even see him move. One second, I’m drowning, then the next he’s there—grounding me, holding onto me. His touch is firm, steady, and somehow more solid than the earth beneath me. His face inches from mine.
“That’s unfortunate, little witch,” he breathes. “Because I fucking love you.”
His words hit harder than any spell ever could. I never thought those words would fall from his mouth.
“You… love me?” I whisper, scared to say it aloud like it might shatter everything.
His hold doesn’t falter. If anything, it tightens.
“I do. I’m not Ronan, I don’t do soft. No hearts, no flowers, no sweet promises whispered in the dark.”
He leans in, his forehead resting against mine.
“But when I heard you scream—when I think about you dying—I lost whatever scraps of control I had left. Maybe I don’t know how love is supposed to feel. But if this burning, choking fire in my chest isn’t it, then I don’t want the real thing.”
My fingers dig into the worn leather of his shirt. “I love—”
But he cuts me off, crashing his mouth against mine before the words can even find air.
His kiss is rough, hungry—like he’s trying to shove every silent confession, every desperate craving into the heat between us. His fangs scrape against my bottom lip teasingly, reminding me of what those fangs have done to me.
My knees betray me, shaking from his touch.
Without hesitation, his hands clamp under my thighs without a second thought, hoisting me up like I weigh nothing. My legs lock around his waist, dragging him against me, spine arching as the rough bark bites into my back. His mouth crashes down on mine again, unyielding and demanding. I meet him fully, pouring everything into it, every wild beat of my heart into the kiss. I need the taste of him like I need air.
His voice cuts through the heat, rough and low against my lips.
“Everything’s about to spiral into chaos in the next few days. And all I want is to bury myself inside you so deep you lose track of everything else around us. To fill every part of you until the only thing left on your tongue, in your pussy, is me.”
A slow, scorching heat coils low in my belly, spreading with an undeniable hunger.
His touch clenches tighter around my thighs, and his eyes burn into mine like he can feel how turned on I am.
“Then fuck me. Use me,” I plead.
His grin flashes—dark, savage—the kind that promises he’s about to shatter me in ways I never knew I needed.
His lips press against my neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses that burn all the way down to my collarbone. His hips grind into mine, pinning me hard against the tree, the bark biting into my spine, grounding me in the best kind of pain.
In one swift, ruthless motion, he yanks my hoodie over my head and tosses it aside like it offended him just by touching my skin.
“Hold on.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him as I lift my hips to help. However, my leggings get caught at my knees, and he snarls in frustration. I see a wild flicker of anger in his eyes, and moments later, the fabric is torn in two with a savage rip and tossed aside.
It didn’t matter. Gods, none of that mattered but his touch.
I kiss him again, teeth and tongue, and need, grinding down against his thick, rigid heat, still strapped behind his leathers. All I can think about is more. Now. Harder. I want him to ruin me. I want to forget about everything.
“As hot as these leathers are,” I trail my fingers along his chest. “I can’t exactly get them off you.”
