Page 126 of Smoke, Mirrors, & Misdemeanours

His hand brushed the side of her neck—right over the bond mark that shimmered faintly at his touch. Then his fingers were on her, inside her, coaxing her open with a deliberate patience that belied the tension shuddering through his arms. He was holding back. Barely.

Cassia arched into his hand, her lips parting on a breathless moan. His mouth found her bond mark. He didn’t speak at first. Just breathed her in, the heat of him pressed so close she could feel his restraint unraveling.

Then, low and hoarse, he said, “Let me renew it. Let me make you mine again.”

Her eyes fluttered open, gaze catching his. Something raw passed between them—a tether tightening. She nodded. She knew she shouldn’t, knew that in a matter of hours, there would no longer be them. But she wanted to pretend, for now, that this wasn’t the end.

His teeth grazed her. His mouth pressed fully against the mark, and as he suckled her flesh, her magic answered—a silent, expanding wave of heat and light.

She didn’t realize she was crying until he kissed her, his mouth gentling hers even as his fingers stayed inside her, stroking her through every tremor the bond reignited. She arched up, clinging to him as he broke the kiss, his mouth returning to the mark on her neck—tongue and teeth working in rhythm with his fingers, pushing her higher, until she shattered.

She cried out his name, the bond mark lighting up like a constellation reborn. But he didn’t give her time to recover. He rose above her, grabbed her hips, and pressed forward.

“The first time,” he panted, lining himself up, “will be fast. I need you too much. But after⁠—”

“After,” she whispered, cupping his jaw, “we take our time.”

He thrust, and the world fractured. She stretched around him with a sharp gasp, pleasure spiking through her as he filled her completely—like he was meant to be there. Her body remembered him, softening around him. She dug her nails into his shoulders, her thighs trembling as he began to move.

He tried to move slowly at first, but restraint had no place here—not when the heat of him was so overwhelming, not when she could feel herself clenching around him like she couldn’t bear to let him go. His hips snapped forward. She arched beneath him, arms looping around his neck as her fingers tangled in his hair. She met him, breathless, desperate, rising to match his rhythm. The new bond pulsed. Every time his mouth brushed it, she trembled.

“Ark—”

“I know,” he rasped, his forehead touching hers. “I know.”

She could feel him everywhere—in her, around her, written into the ache and the ecstasy. Her lips found his shoulder, his collarbone, his throat, anywhere she could reach. Her tongue traced the inky runes on his sternum, swirling around his nipple. He made a sound—half groan, half vow—and thrust harder, deeper, until the world narrowed to heat and skin and the unbearable, beautiful pressure of being so thoroughly claimed.

She reached for his horns again, fingers curling around the base. Just as before, his whole body shuddered. His rhythm faltered, hips driving deeper as a growl tore from his chest.

“Cassia,” he gritted, like her name was the only thing anchoring him.

She was spiraling. Her body trembled around him, desperate and undone, clutching him as her release crept closer. He kissed her—hard, searing—then broke away to look at her, to witness her moment of completion.

“Let go,” he said, breathless. “I’ve got you.”

With a cry torn from somewhere marrow-deep, she shattered—light flashing behind her eyes, muscles tightening around him as he groaned and followed her into the dark.

And for one blinding moment, she let herself believe this night might be forever.

ARK

She was still trembling, body slick with the warmth of their first fall together, when she turned and offered herself to him again.

No words. Just that look over her shoulder—dark-eyed, open-mouthed—and he forgot every oath of restraint he’d ever sworn.

He moved behind her, the hunger quickly rising again. He cupped her hips, thumbs sweeping the dip of her back. She fit in his hands like something sculpted by fate for no one but him.

“Cassia,” he breathed. The word barely made it out. “If only you knew what you do to me.”

He slid his palm up her spine, and she arched, pressing back against him. A low growl coiled in his chest. He nudged her thighs farther apart with his knee, watching how she shivered when the cool air kissed her slick skin, and guided himself back inside her. Her body clenched around him, a perfect, silken pressure that stole his breath. He braced himself—one hand on the curve of her lower back, the other curling into the sheets beside him.

His hips met hers with a firm grind, slow at first, then gaining strength. Again. Again. Her cries rose beneath him, soft at first, then ragged. He angled his thrusts and she gasped, her arms buckling. She dropped her head to the mattress.

Gods, he loved her like this—wild, utterly undone.

He gripped her hips harder, drove into her, setting a punishing rhythm that had her breath stuttering with every thrust. He bent over her, chest brushing her back, mouth finding the shell of her ear.

“This,” he whispered in her ear, “is what you do to me.”