Clothes hit the floor like secrets dropped in a frenzy.
Kael's mouth claimed hers—possessive, almost desperate. Lyra met him with equal fire, her fingers tangling in his hair, nails raking down his back.
"Say it," he growled between kisses. "Tell me you feel this too."
She didn't answer.
She moaned.
That was enough.
Her back hit the wall. His hands held her like she might vanish if he let go.
"You smell like lightning," she whispered, dazed.
He paused, panting. "You taste like war."
The room buzzed with magic. Not hers. Not his.
Theirs.
Combined.
Colliding.
Her thighs wrapped around his waist as his lips trailed down her neck, grazing the place just above her collarbone where his instincts screamed to mark.
But he didn't.
Not yet.
Lyra's breath hitched. "You're holding back."
Kael looked up, fangs visible now, eyes half-wild. "You don't know what it means if I don't."
"Show me."
That was it.
His mouth was on her again, this time lower, rougher, exploring until she writhed beneath his touch. It wasn't just physical; it was cosmic. Their bond was threading, weaving, and snarling into something new.
His hands slid lower.
Her head tipped back against the wall, a cry slipping past her lips.
"Still think I'm dangerous?" He murmured against her skin.
She grinned through the haze. "You haven't even started."
And then he did.
Until she forgot who she was before him.
Until Kael wasn't just danger.
He was home.