59. Seraphina
The bond settles between us like a second heartbeat.
Thick, pulsing, alive.
I feel it in my bones, beneath my skin, in the slow, curling heat winding through my veins.
It is not a chain.
It is a fire.
A searing, perfect weight pressing into every part of me, into him, tying us together in body, in soul, in eternity.
Rylan’s breath is ragged, his forehead pressed against mine, his fingers still laced with our blood, gripping me like I might still slip away.
Like he still doesn’t quite believe I’m his.
The crowd watches, waiting.
For us to step away from the altar, to return to the great hall, to drink and feast and celebrate the night.
But Rylan doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
Because this is not over.
Not yet.
The bond is not complete.
Not until I feel every part of him, not until he stains himself into me, until there is no part of me that is not his.
The magic demands it.
We demand it.
Rylan’s eyes burn as he looks at me—raw, hungry, filled with a storm that has nowhere left to go.
He lifts me in one swift movement, my legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, my breath catching as he turns from the altar.
A door stands at the edge of the ceremonial grounds—leading into our chambers, into the night that is meant only for us.
He doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t have to.
I feel it through the bond?—
His need. His claim. His war.
And I want it all.
The door barely closes before Rylan has me against it, his body pinning me, his breath a curse against my lips.
His hands tremble, but it is not hesitation.
It is barely restrained control.
"Seraphina," he rasps, his voice dark, wrecked.
I shudder. Tighter, deeper, rawer than before.
My name on his lips is no longer just a name.
It is a vow. A command. A prayer.
"You feel it, don’t you?" I whisper, threading my fingers through his silver hair, pulling him closer, pressing myself against him until there is nothing between us but heat.
He exhales sharply, his hands roaming, dragging up my thighs, over my hips, gripping my waist as if to hold me still.
"You belong to me now," he murmurs, his lips brushing my throat.
A slow, aching burn spreads through me at his words.
I do.
I always have.
But so does he.
I tilt my head back, exposing my neck to him, an offering, feeling the sharp inhale of his breath as he presses his lips against my pulse.
"Forever, Rylan," I moan, my voice thick with need.
A guttural growl rumbles in his chest, possessive and raw, before his teeth graze the sensitive skin of my neck. I gasp, a sharp, desperate sound escaping me as his lips trail lower, lower, the heat of his mouth a brand searing a path to my aching core.
The warmth becomes a consuming fire, a slow descent into madness. I arch into him, my body already ablaze, wrecked and wanting, the power of our bond pulling, pushing, demanding, more .
And gods, I crave so much more.
His hands are everywhere, tearing at the remnants of silk clinging to my body, his breath ragged as he bares me to him, to the hunger in his eyes, the possessiveness of his touch.
"You are beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough against my skin.
A dark, hungry smirk curves my lips.
His control shatters. Rylan lifts me, carrying me to the massive bed that dominates the chamber.
The cool silk sheets brush against my back, a fleeting sensation lost in the inferno of his touch. I barely register it.
Not when he's above me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his lips trailing fire down my chest, over the taut plane of my stomach, lower, lower still.
“Rylan!” I gasp, my body writhing, arching, pleasure coiling tight, twisting, almost too much to bear.
He hasn't even taken me yet.
His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wide, his breath a hot curse against my slick folds.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice low and dangerous.
I meet his gaze, drowning in the molten depths of his desire. Rylan devours me with his eyes, and then with his mouth. His lips are hot, demanding, dragging me to the edge, his tongue a slow, torturous promise, a declaration that I am his, and his alone.
He laps at my clit, sending shockwaves through my body. A playful tongue twirls on the sensitive bud, sending my body into overdrive.
My breath stutters, my body trembles, pleasure twisting, climbing, so close, too close.
"Rylan—"
"Not yet," he growls, pulling away, dragging his lips up my body again, kissing, biting, marking every inch of me as his own.
He gives his attention to my nipple, licking and twirling his tongue over it while he fondles the other breasts playfully as if he found a new interesting toy.
“Fuck me, Rylan! What are you doing?” I curse, arching into him, needing more, needing everything.
He grins, dark and wicked, his fingers trailing lower, finding my aching core, teasing, pushing into me, stretching, filling.
An offending finger twirls in me, and my body shakes, sending me into a mini-orgasm.
“Rylan!” I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders, my hips bucking against his hand, a helpless, wrecked plea.
"Patience," he murmurs, but his voice is just as shattered as my control.
I don't want patience. I want him. I flip us, straddling him, taking control, grinning at the way his breath catches as I pin him beneath me.
His hands land on my hips, gripping, guiding, his pupils blown wide as he watches me.
"It's just us," I whisper, as I finally, finally sink down onto his waiting cock.
We both break.
“Seraphina!” he screams my name as I drive him insane.
“Yes!” I moan, arching my back and my hands land on his chest. Up and down, I grind my body against his.
He grits his teeth, his fingers digging into my hips, his breath a wreck against me as I ride him, take him, claim him. I feel everything.
Every inch of his hard cock inside me. Every thrust. Every ounce of the raw power we've just bound together.
"Seraphina—" His voice cracks, his control fraying, and I drag him deeper, harder, faster, the friction building, intensifying.
We collapse into each other, a tangle of sweat-slicked skin and tangled limbs, shuddered moans filling the air as the world falls apart around us. And when we both reach the peak, when the bond snaps into finality, when I shatter and take him with me?—
It is not just pleasure.
It is completion.
It is forever.
Gods help anyone who ever tries to take this away from us.