“Who says thorough can’t be passionate?”
She made a sound of pure frustration, and he laughed against her mouth. Gods, he loved her. Loved her sharp tongue and her impatience and the way she made him want to tease her until she was incoherent.
He carried her the rest of the way, through the door she’d left unlocked, across the main room with its celestial charts and dried flowers, up the narrow stairs to the bedroom under the skylight.
The stars were just appearing overhead—pinpricks of light through the glass, watching them with ancient indifference. Hux set her down beside the bed, both of them breathing hard, and forced himself to slow down.
“Are you sure?” His voice came out rough, barely human. His lion was very close to the surface, golden light bleeding into his vision. “Once I claim you?—”
“I’m sure.” She reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers steady despite the tremor he could feel running through her. “I’ve been sure since you nearly died in my arms and I realized I’d rather face a void entity than live without you.”
The shirt fell away. Her hands mapped his chest—the faded scars from the void-touch, the muscles that tensed beneath her palms, the heart that beat too fast when she touched him.
“Your turn,” he managed.
She smiled—that sharp, knowing smile he’d fallen for weeks ago—and pulled her flowing top over her head in one smooth motion.
The air left his lungs.
He’d seen her before. Had mapped every curve of her body with his hands and mouth, learned what made her gasp and what made her moan. But tonight felt different. Tonight, every touch mattered more. Tonight, they were choosing forever.
“You’re beautiful.” The words weren’t enough, but they were all he had. “Every part of you. The woman who runs from emotions. The witch who reads death in stars. The chaos and the competence and everything in between.”
“Chaos?” She arched an eyebrow, reaching for the clasp of her bra. “I’m very organized. I have systems.”
“You showed up twenty minutes late to your official welcome ceremony with a sunflower behind your ear.”
“That’s not chaos. That’s prioritization.” The bra fell away, and he stopped thinking entirely.
They fell into bed—atangle of limbs and urgent need, mouths finding each other in the half-light.
Hux took his time. Despite the lion clawing beneath his skin, despite every instinct screaming at him to claim, mark, mine, he made himself slow down. This was important. This mattered. He wanted to worship her properly before he put his teeth in her shoulder.
He kissed his way down her throat, pausing to scrape his teeth against her pulse point. She gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair. He moved lower—across her collarbone, between her breasts, following the map he’d memorized over weeks of learning her body.
Every sigh. Every shiver. Every soft sound she made when he found a particularly sensitive spot. He catalogued them all, stored them in the place where his emptiness used to live. This woman.Hiswoman. The one who’d chosen to stay when running was all she’d ever known.
“Hux.” Her voice was breathless. “We don’t have to?—”
“I want to.” He pressed a kiss to her sternum, feeling her heart race beneath his lips. “I want to make you fall apart before I claim you. I want you so lost in pleasure that the pain barely registers.”
“What pain?”
He looked up at her, letting her see the gold bleeding into his eyes. “The bite.”
Her breath hitched. Not fear—anticipation. “Tell me.”
“It’ll hurt.” He resumed his exploration, mouth trailing fire across her ribs. “My teeth breaking skin. Deep enough to scar. Your shoulder will ache for days, and then it’ll heal intosomething new.” He reached the waistband of her pants and began working them down her hips. “A mark that says you’re mine. That lets every supernatural who sees it know you’re claimed.”
“And you?” She lifted her hips to help him, and the rest of her clothing disappeared. “What do you get?”
“Everything.” He settled between her thighs, looking up at her—spread out beneath him, lit by starlight, more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen. “A bond. Knowledge of where you are, always. The certainty of belonging to someone.”
“The curse?—”
“We’ll find out if it matters.” He lowered his mouth to her hip, pressed a kiss to the curve of bone.
Then he stopped talking and showed her exactly what he meant.
