Chapter 90 Serena
SERENA
Iwake up before Zadyn. Which is rare. But I take the time to relish the feeling of his arms around my waist, his breath dusting over my neck, his legs tangled with mine.*
Things between us are irrevocably different. Last night we forged something so unbreakable, so tangible, I feel it even now. Where before there was a string—a tether—there is now a shared heartbeat. Mine synced with his.
I bend to press a kiss to the scar on his chest, the one I gave him, right beneath the marking of our bond.
“Were you watching me sleep?” He blinks, sleep making his voice gravelly and ridiculously sexy.
“No,” I lie.
“You little creep,” he teases. He brings his mouth toward mine with enough slowness to send my heart into a sprint.
But instead of kissing me, he attacks me with a round of tickles.
I squeal, wriggling against him. It takes one second for him to restrain me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand.
And that one second is all it takes for my mind to completely switch gears. I can sense the shift in his body too. It’s amazing to me how he can go from my sweet, protective defender to a fucking animal in the blink of an eye. It’s even more amazing that I’m the one who does that to him.
He swings his leg over my hips, laying one of those deep, branding kisses on me that erases my own name from my memory. Unable to move, I crane my neck toward him, desperate for more. It takes effort, but I break away, peering up at him with a vulnerability that leaves me painfully exposed.
“I know you said we have time but—” I shake my head, allowing him into my mind. Anything could happen. We could both die tomorrow.
That wouldn’t stop me from finding you.
I don’t want any regrets. I’m ready for this. I’m ready for you, I whisper without words, existing only for his answer.
He studies me for a moment, giving nothing away.
“Please, Zadyn.”
He kisses me again. Hard and deep.
Then we’re slipping out of our clothes and his warm hands are where I need them, nothing but skin between us. My heart is pounding loud enough for him to hear, but I’ve never felt more sure about anything.
My nails trace the dip in his back as he leans down, cradling the base of my skull and tipping his forehead to mine.
I wrap my legs around him, guiding him toward me until he’s filling me up, fitted to me so tightly I can barely breathe.
He stretches me to the point of pain, but that sensation is second only to the perfection of our bodies joining together.
It’s slow and intense, reaching into something dark in my heart and sparking a candle. I let his eyes anchor me, using them to keep me tethered to the bed, to the ground.
“Gods, you’re so perfect. The way you fit in my hands,” he marvels, watching himself push into me. “How you feel wrapped around me.”
“Zadyn,” I beg, lifting my hips for him. His mouth lowers to my jaw, my chest, peppering my skin with kisses. I pull him closer.
He doesn’t fuck with his body. He fucks with his entire soul.
And I feel all of it.
His hand curls around the base of my neck as he gazes at me with heartbreaking adoration.
His kisses turn fervent, hasty, needy—our tongues flicking and swirling, our teeth biting and pulling.
And none of it is enough. Because for every piece of him I claim as mine, I want another. I only want more of him.
I flip him onto his back and climb on top, sinking down slow enough to adjust to all of him.
His head rears against the pillow, eyes clamping shut as his length fully disappears into me.
The groan he unleashes is like a spark, and next thing I know, I’m on fire.
I reach for his hand—still poised over my throat.
Tighter, I urge. His eyes open, hesitation lingering there.
“Don’t hold back. I want you out of control,” I breathe, starting up a rhythm.
His eyes heat. He shoots up to a seated position, one arm wrapping around my waist. The shift has him pressing against my innermost sanctuary.
A ragged breath leaves me as his grip on my throat tightens, intensifying every single thing he’s making me feel.
I struggle for air, but he denies me, wrenching me forward into a brutal kiss.
I whimper against his mouth, unable to breathe, riding harder and faster, my nails digging into his shoulders and back, leaving tiny crescent moons behind on his skin.
His hips meet mine, measure for measure, demanding I give him more, give him everything.
So I do.
I always believed that the power in any relationship lies with the person who cares the least. And two nights ago, that was me.
Now everything is different. Now I’m afraid. Because now I care so much, it’s frightening. And I’m worried that leaves me absolutely powerless—something I promised myself I would never be again.
But it doesn’t stop the confession from tumbling out as he drives into me over and over. As he delivers me to the edge of a cliff, and then shoves me over.
“Zadyn, I love you,” I breathe through the free fall. “I love you.”
* Cue: Forward to the Kill by Sydney Ross Mitchell