Lyra couldn't sleep.
Not after that.
Not after the way Kael's hands had burned across her skin like fire and fury.
She could still feel his breath on her throat, the ghost of his mouth where he'd kissed her like he had every right to.
She hated that she wanted it again.
No, not wanted.
Craved.
She stared up at the stone ceiling of her chambers, sheets tangled around her legs, body still thrumming with heat that wouldn't go away.
And then—
A knock.
Sharp.
Singular.
Her heart stopped.
Nobody came to knock this late.
Nobody other than—
Before thinking, she opened the door.
Kael.
His shirt was wet from the rain and only partially buttoned. His eyes were wild, and his dark hair stuck to his forehead. As if he, too, had failed to keep his distance.
"I shouldn't be here," he said, voice low.
"You are."
He stepped in.
She didn't stop him.
Didn't want to.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence stretched.
Heavy.
Crackling.
She didn't know who moved first. Maybe it was both of them.
But suddenly he was in front of her again, breathing hard, staring down like she was the only thing that could quiet the storm inside him.
"Say it," he murmured.
"Say what?"
"That you want me."
Her throat dried. Her hands trembled.
"I shouldn't."
"But you do."
Lyra didn't deny it.
Kael stepped closer, chest brushing hers. "I haven't stopped thinking about the way you moaned."
Her knees buckled.
He caught her, his arms locking around her waist, dragging her flush against him.
"I wanted to stay pressed inside that moment," he whispered, his mouth brushing her temple. "I still do."
Lyra's fingers slid under his shirt again, feeling the heat of his skin, the hard lines of his stomach. "It is difficult to think with you."
"Good. I don't want you thinking."
He kissed her, this time slower. Lazier. Like he had all night.
She melted.
His hands trailed down her spine, pulling her closer until not even air dared slip between them.
Lyra gasped when he picked her up and laid her gently onto the bed, crawling over her like a shadow come to life. His weight settled against her, his scent sinking into her skin.
"Still want me to stop?" he asked.
She arched up, pressing her hips to his. "Touch me."
A growl rumbled in his chest.
He did.
Hands, mouth, teeth—he worshipped every inch of her skin like a man possessed. And she gave in. Completely. Wholly. No thoughts. No fears.
Only him.
Only this.
When they finally lay there, tangled in sweat and sheets, neither of them spoke.
Until—
Kael traced her spine with one finger. "I don't share," he said.
Lyra turned her head, meeting his gaze. "Who said I was offering?"
He smirked, sharp and possessive. "You're mine now, Lyra."
Her heart kicked hard in her chest.
She should've been scared.
She wasn't.
Because a terrifying part of her liked it.