The silence between them wasn't quiet; it thrummed. It pulsed like a second heartbeat, heavy and electric in the air.
Lyra's back hit the wall, not with force, but intent. Kael had her caged in, one arm resting beside her head, the other trailing dangerously close to the curve of her hip. His eyes, burning amber in the low light, never left hers.
"You do that on purpose," she breathed.
"Do what?"
"That thing with your voice," she said, heart drumming against her ribs. "You let it drop like heat sliding down my spine."
Kael's lips curved slowly. "And if I do?"
Lyra swallowed, tasting the tension. Her voice was softer now. "Then I'd say you're playing a dangerous game."
He leaned in so close his breath touched her cheek. "Lyra, if I'm playing, it's because you started it."
Her fingers curled against the stone wall, fighting the instinct to reach for him. To pull him closer. To lose herself in the way his presence wrapped around her like smoke and sin. She hated how his nearness turned her thoughts into embers.
She met his gaze, defiant. "I wasn't playing."
He tilted his head. "Then what was it? When you pressed your throat to my fangs last night?"
Her breath hitched. He heard it. Felt it.
"I needed to know you wouldn't bite."
Kael smiled. It was wolfish. "And if I had?"
Lyra stepped forward, not away, but into him, her chest brushing his. Her voice was a whisper meant only for the space between their mouths. "Then maybe I'd have let you."
His restraint frayed.
Kael's fingers lifted, barely grazing her jaw. He didn't touch her like a man who was entitled. He touched her like a creature trying not to worship. His thumb brushed her lower lip, lingering there.
"You want me to lose control," he murmured.
"I want the truth," she whispered. "You circle me like you're starving."
"I am."
Their lips hovered. A breath apart. Every inhale of hers seemed to call him deeper, and every exhale dragged him closer to the edge of reason. He didn't kiss her.
He devoured the moment.
"You have no idea what you're inviting," he warned.
"I don't scare easily."
"I do." His voice cracked just enough to make her heart twist.
Then she kissed him.
Not tentative. Not polite.
Lyra kissed him like the moon had finally touched fire. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him into her heat, her body rising to meet his like instinct had finally overridden fear.
Kael answered with a growl deep in his chest, one hand gripping her waist, the other tangling in her hair. He kissed her like he had been waiting across centuries. There was nothing gentle about it, and it was teeth, hunger, and heat. He lifted her effortlessly, and her legs wrapped around his waist as if her body had been waiting for this exact moment.
Then she sensed his strength. Not just strength, but raw, ancient want.
His mouth left hers only to trail down her throat, where he paused, fangs brushing the pulse point. Not biting. Just threatening. She shivered.
"Say the word," he said, voice hoarse.
"What word?" she asked, breathless, drunk on him.
"The one that makes me stop."
She stared down at him, flushed and trembling. "What if I don't have it?"
His gaze burned. "Then I'll break."
Her answer was a kiss, open and aching.
Kael turned with her in his arms, pressing her to the edge of the bed. His hands were beneath her dress, skimming her thighs, drawing slow circles on her bare skin. Her breath came out in broken sounds.
And yet—
He paused.
Not because he didn't want her. Gods, he did. But because he needed to look at her. To see if she meant it.
Lyra stared up at him, cheeks flushed, lips parted, hair splayed like silver fire against the sheets.
"Don't stop now," she whispered.
"You don't understand, Lyra. This means it's not just sex."
"Good," she murmured. "I'm not looking for just sex."
Kael kissed her again, slower this time. Reverent. Like he'd finally decided to fall instead of fight. His hands found the ties at her bodice, and she let him undo them, one by one, her breath catching with each release of pressure.
She touched his chest, fingers splayed over the warm, scarred skin. He was trembling not from nerves, but from control.
His eyes locked onto hers. "I need to know you're mine, even if it's just for tonight."
Lyra arched up into him. "Take me, Kael."
And he did.
He moved over her like a storm, like salvation and ruin all at once. Their bodies met in a rhythm that was more than physical. It was something elemental, raw, and consuming. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails biting into flesh as he moved deeper, slower, drawing pleasure from every inch of her.
She moaned his name, and he groaned hers into the crook of her neck.
It wasn't sweet.
It wasn't soft.
It was scorching. Wild.
Necessary.
After, they lay tangled in each other, skin slick, hearts still racing. The fire in the hearth crackled, casting golden light over sweat-damp skin and satisfied sighs.
Kael's fingers traced lazy patterns on her waist. "You're going to ruin me."
Lyra smiled, breath hitching slightly. "You were already ruined."
He rolled onto his back, pulling her against his chest. "So what does that make you?"
She looked up at him, silver eyes gleaming in the dark. "The one who's willing to pick up the pieces."
Kael stared at the ceiling, jaw tight.
And then he whispered, "Don't say things like that unless you mean them."
She kissed his chest. "I wouldn't have let you in if I didn't."
Silence fell again, but it was softer this time. Familiar. Like maybe, just maybe, the two of them weren't completely lost.
Outside, the wind howled through the trees.
Inside, a werewolf and a vampire lay wrapped around each other.
Neither knowing that come morning, everything would change.