Chapter 22 Heidi #2
The sight of flames dancing around his fingers makes my breath catch in my throat.
Memory crashes through me—the first time at Vestige, when he'd introduced me to sensations I never knew I craved.
The fire hadn't burned me then, just kissed my skin with heat that somehow translated into the most exquisite pleasure I'd ever experienced.
"You love my flames," he says, voice thick with satisfaction as he reads the recognition in my eyes. "I can feel your excitement through our bond."
The flames flicker higher, casting golden shadows across his face as he holds his hand near my breast without quite touching. The heat radiates against my skin, making my nipple tighten in anticipation. My hips stutter in their rhythm, nearly stopping entirely as I wait for that first contact.
"Please," I whisper, trembling with need and barely contained fear. The contradiction of wanting something that should terrify me makes my pulse race.
His eyes burn brighter than the flames as he watches me beg for something so dangerous. "Such a perfect little masochist," he murmurs. "Only you would plead for fire against your skin."
Without warning, he brushes the flames across my nipple in one swift motion. The heat bites into my sensitive flesh for just an instant—long enough to make me cry out, short enough that it doesn't truly burn. Just that perfect edge between pleasure and pain that makes my vision blur.
"Fuck," I gasp, inner muscles clenching around his cock so hard it draws a harsh groan from his throat.
The skin of my nipple glows pink from the brief contact, hypersensitive and throbbing with an ache that somehow makes me want more. Through our bond, I feel his satisfaction at my response, his own arousal spiking at the way I've gone molten around him.
"More," I beg shamelessly, already addicted to the sensation.
"Ride me," he commands instead, hands gripping my hips. "Harder. I want to feel you falling apart."
I obey eagerly, lifting myself up before slamming back down on his length with enough force to make us both curse.
The position drives him impossibly deep, hitting that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
But even as pleasure builds, my attention remains fixed on the flames still dancing around his other hand.
"You want more fire, little thief?" he asks, reading my desperation easily.
"Yes," I gasp between thrusts. "Please, yes."
This time he doesn't make me wait. The flames sweep across my other nipple, the heat biting just long enough to leave me screaming his name. The pain blooms instantly into the most intense pleasure, sending shockwaves through my entire body.
I'm riding him frantically now, chasing the building pressure in my core while my marked nipples throb in perfect time with my pulse. Through our bond, his pleasure crashes into mine, amplifying everything until I can barely tell where I end and he begins.
"Look at you," he says, voice rough with awe. "Taking everything I give you and begging for more. You're so fucking perfect."
The praise makes me clench around him again, drawing another curse from his lips. His free hand slides up my body, fingers finding the nipple he'd marked first. The skin is still hypersensitive, and when he brushes his thumb across the pink flesh, I nearly come apart.
"I'm going to do it again," he warns, flames already moving toward my breast. "And then I'm going to bite you while the fire still burns."
The promise makes my thighs shake with anticipation. I can only nod, too overwhelmed by sensation to form words. When the flames kiss my nipple this time, I'm ready for the bite of heat, but it still makes me scream.
Before the sensation can fade, his mouth is there, teeth sinking into the tender, fire-kissed flesh with brutal precision. The combination of residual heat and sharp pain sends me over the edge so hard I see white.
My orgasm tears through me like wildfire, every nerve ending exploding with sensation as my body convulses around his cock. Through our bond, I feel his answering surge of pleasure as my inner muscles squeeze him rhythmically, pulling him deeper.
Before I can even catch my breath, the world tilts as he flips us over with inhuman speed. My back hits the mattress hard enough to drive the air from my lungs, but I barely register the impact because his hand is already wrapping around my throat.
"Mine," he snarls, fingers tightening just enough to make breathing difficult.
The pressure on my windpipe should terrify me. Instead, it sends another wave of heat through my already oversensitive body. My orgasm, which had just started to fade, reignites with vengeance as he begins to pound into me with ruthless intensity.
His cock drives deep with each thrust, hitting angles that make me see stars while his grip on my throat keeps me teetering on the edge between consciousness and oblivion.
The restriction of airflow somehow intensifies every other sensation—the stretch of him filling me, the burn in my marked nipples, the delicious ache where his fingers dig into my neck.
"You love this," he growls, reading my body's responses even as I struggle to form coherent thoughts. "Love being completely at my mercy."
I try to speak but can only manage a strangled whimper around his grip. Through our bond, though, he can feel my agreement, my desperate pleasure at being held so completely in his power. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper as my hips rise to meet each brutal thrust.
His rhythm becomes punishing, each drive of his hips sending shockwaves through my body. The lack of oxygen makes everything feel distant and bright at the same time, like I'm floating while being split apart by sensation. My vision starts to blur at the edges, but the pleasure only builds higher.
"That's it," he pants, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of maintaining control. "Take everything I give you."
I can feel him getting close through our bond, his pleasure building to match mine.
His thrusts become more erratic, less controlled, as he chases his release.
The grip on my throat tightens fractionally, and suddenly I'm coming again, my body convulsing around him as another orgasm crashes through me.
The sensation of me falling apart beneath him pushes him over the edge. With a roar that shakes the walls, he buries himself to the hilt and comes hard, his cock pulsing inside me as he fills me with his release. At the exact moment of his climax, his grip on my throat releases completely.
The rush of oxygen to my brain hits like lightning.
My vision explodes with color as every nerve ending fires at once, sending me into another orgasm so intense I arch clean off the bed.
My scream echoes off the walls as wave after wave of sensation crashes through me, each one more powerful than the last.
Through our bond, I can feel his satisfaction at my response, his possessive pleasure at reducing me to a trembling, incoherent mess. His hands smooth over my body as I shake through the aftershocks, gentle now where they were brutal moments before.
"Breathe," he murmurs, voice soft with concern as I gasp for air. "Easy, little thief. I've got you."
It takes long minutes for my heart rate to slow, for the trembling in my limbs to subside. When I finally feel human again, I find him watching me with an expression of wonder and possessive satisfaction that makes my chest tight with emotion.
"You're incredible," he says simply, fingers tracing the marks on my throat with reverent touches. "Absolutely fucking incredible."
I try to speak but my voice comes out as barely a whisper, throat raw from his grip and my screaming. "Mihalis..."
"Shh," he soothes, gathering me against his chest. "You don't need to say anything."
But I do need to say something. The words have been building inside me for days, maybe weeks, growing stronger with every gentle moment with Irida, every heated exchange between us, every time he's shown me the man beneath the monster.
The soul bond didn't create what's between us—it just revealed what was already there, waiting to be acknowledged.
What I feel for him goes so much deeper than magic, deeper than lust or even the twisted affection born from shared trauma.
It's something pure and terrifying and completely beyond my control.
"I love you," I whisper against his chest, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of absolute truth.
His entire body goes still beneath me. Through our bond, I feel the shock that crashes through him, followed immediately by a surge of emotion so intense it nearly overwhelms me. Joy, relief, possessive satisfaction, and underneath it all, a love so fierce and consuming it takes my breath away.
"Say it again," he commands, voice rough with emotion as his arms tighten around me.
"I love you," I repeat, stronger this time.
"I love your gentleness with Irida and your ruthlessness with everyone else.
I love your patience with my fears and your complete lack of patience when you want something.
I love that you let me run when I needed space and that you fought for me when I was too scared to fight for myself. "
His hand finds my chin, tilting my face up so our eyes meet. The molten gold of his gaze burns with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken all over again.
"I love you too, little thief," he says, each word deliberate and weighted with promise. "I love your strength and your stubbornness. I love the way you see through everyone's bullshit, including mine. I love how fierce you are when protecting the people you care about."
His thumb brushes across my lower lip, and I can see the exact moment he decides to bare his soul completely.
"I love that you chose to stay when every instinct told you to run. I love that you see something worth saving in a monster like me." His voice drops to barely a whisper. "And I love that fate bound us together, because I would have been too much of a coward to reach for you on my own."
The confession breaks something open inside my chest. This powerful, terrifying man who commands respect through fear alone just admitted to being afraid—not of death or pain or any physical threat, but of reaching for happiness. Of believing he might deserve something good.
"You're not a monster," I tell him fiercely. "You're the man who reads bedtime stories to his daughter. Who builds her a playroom even though you pretend not to have a soft spot. Who would burn the world down to keep her safe."
"And you," he adds, voice carrying such conviction it steals my breath. "I would burn everything for you too."
The words should terrify me. The intensity of his devotion, the possessive edge that promises he'll never let me go, should send me running for the nearest exit.
Instead, they fill me with a warmth that has nothing to do with his fire magic and everything to do with being truly wanted for the first time in my life.
I press my lips to his in a kiss that tastes like promises and new beginnings. Through our bond, I feel his love wrapping around me like armor, strong enough to protect me from every doubt and fear I've carried for twenty-three years.
When we break apart, he settles me more comfortably against his chest, one wing curving protectively around us both. The black and red feathers are impossibly soft against my skin, warm with the heat that always radiates from his body.
"Are you happy?" he asks quietly, fingers combing through my hair.
I consider the question seriously, taking inventory of everything that's changed since I first stepped foot in Vestige.
A month ago, I was alone, surviving day to day with no real connections or hopes for the future.
Now I'm lying in the arms of the man I love, part of a family that includes the most precious little girl in the world.
"Yes," I whisper against his chest. "I'm happy."
His arms tighten around me, and through our bond I feel his deep satisfaction at my answer. The soul magic that binds us pulses with contentment, no longer pulling or aching but simply existing as a warm current of connection between us.
"Good," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Because you're mine now, little thief. Forever."
The possessive declaration should make me bristle with the need for independence that's kept me alive all these years. Instead, it fills me with a peace I've never known. For the first time in my life, belonging to someone doesn't feel like a cage—it feels like coming home.