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"Are you ready to be mine for the rest of your life?"
Leave it to a night stalker - I mean, creature god - to make a proposal that possessive, but that's why I love him.
"Yes."
His grin is almost too big as he pushes the ring onto my finger, and it turns night stalker blue within a second, announcing my giddy feelings.
He pushes me to my back as he comes cover my body with his, and our lips brush lightly before he says, "For the record, the proposal was just a courtesy. You would have been mine regardless."
I just laugh as he smiles, knowing he's not being serious. I don't think. Our world is so twisted that it's hard to tell sometimes.
When his lips devour mine, my thoughts are banished and replaced with desire. His hand slides down to the top of my jeans, and I let him peel them off me, barely moving and never breaking our kiss as he does so. When his hand slides up my shirt, my body shudders, a moan slips free, and I press closer, desperate for more. When his deep growl in the back of his throat climbs out, I shiver noticeably beneath him.
Usually, he starts shredding clothes and rushing the pace when my reactions to his touch go this far, but not today—not in this moment.
He slowly continues, peeling off each layer of clothing, placing small kisses on me here and there, until I'm bare beneath his night stalker eyes.
"Take it down," he whispers against my ear, making it impossible to think with his delicious breath so close.
"Take what down?" I mutter, half absent from the conversation as my fantasies begin to grow. Naked. He needs to be naked.
His clothes disappear and reappear on the floor as my magic creeps out to answer my request.
He leans up, letting his eyes drift to my hidden secret. "The veil. You don't have to hide it from me. You don't have to hide anything."
It's a hideous scar with painful memories. Why would he want to see it? Right n
ow of all times? It'll kill the mood.
"No," I murmur, shaking my head.
He presses his hand against my hidden scar, and I feel the veil lifting against my will. When I try to move—to stop him—he holds me still as he completes the impossible. He's stronger than I realized.
"Why do you want to see that?" I mumble, still squirming.
"Because I want you to feel comfortable with me—to know I love you no matter what. This scar does not have the power you give it. I love every piece of you, inside and out."
As my tears waver, he leans down and presses a kiss to my scar, dragging his lips across it as though it doesn't disgust him. I tense, remaining motionless, and he continues. As the tears start falling from my eyes, he leans up, kissing them as though he's taking it all away, banishing the pain attached to the day that marred me. Then he moves back to the vicious marks.
"Kane," I whisper, tugging at him, pleading for him to stop, but he doesn't. My veil won't reseal.
I whimper again, and his lips take mine just before he thrusts inside me, making me jolt from the unexpectedness of it. My breath heaves out in a gush, and he grins down wickedly, making me tingle to my core.
"Better?" he murmurs before beginning his exquisitely tormenting pace, owning me in a way only he was meant to.
"Much," I utter breathlessly, forgetting about the lost veil and reveling in the ecstasy he so easily offers.
Each time he pulls back, it's slow, sensual, and different from anything we've ever done. No hurried or frenzied motions, no tearing or clawing. It's raw, pure, and divine. I can almost feel our souls intertwining as we move together.
He spins me, pulls me up to be on top, and we sit face-to-face, eye-to-eye. I keep the rhythm, feeling all the more connected as his blue eyes stay strong.
He rocks my hips, never losing the steady pace, and my eyes start trying to roll back in my head as the pleasure building inside me starts to tighten, ready to burst free. The power in the house hums, buzzes, and tries to crackle out—our nearly tangible connection that has spawned an energy of its own.
A garbled cry creeps free from me as I shatter and come apart in his arms, feeling heavy as it relaxes me to my core. Kane holds me, keeping me against him, until he stills inside me and releases a breath of exhaustion and satisfaction, whispering my name with the rattled breath.
We collapse to the bed, completely wrapped around each other, and I snuggle into his body, too tired to speak or move.
"I've never—it felt like I was inside your head, Alyssa," he murmurs softly, still breathing heavy.
