Chapter Sixty-Seven #2
He kissed her brow, then lowered his lips to her ear, his words a plea and a promise.
“Look at me, love. Only me. Let me ruin you.”
Her eyes flew open, locking on his—and holding.
The first press inside her was holy ruin—tight, wet heat closing around him until his restraint shattered into a groan that shook him from throat to spine.
“Amerei—”
His voice cracked, her name ripped from his lips like prayer.
A broken sound escaped her as he slid in inch by inch, her fingers clutching his braids, dragging him closer as if she couldn’t stand even a breath’s distance. Then the stretch hit her—sharp, startling. She gasped, nails biting into his shoulders.
He pressed his mouth to her temple, voice rough and shaking.
“Breathe with me, love. I’ve got you. We’re in this together.”
Her breath shuddered out, quivering but steady. The sting melted into a deep, aching fullness, pulling another sound from her throat—this one wonder, not fear.
“That’s it,” he whispered, devotion breaking through the hunger.
“You’re taking me, Amerei. Storms, you’re perfect.”
“Viktor—it feels… so good—” she gasped, shock and wonder tangling in her voice.
He held there, straining against every instinct to drive deeper. His brow pressed to hers, both of them trembling in the raw, unbearable beauty of being joined for the first time.
Only when she softened—body yielding, eyes locking on his with fierce trust—did he move.
She clutched at his shoulders, nails scoring his skin as his control broke and he began to thrust, every motion desperate prayer and worship entwined.
Her leg slid around his waist, dragging him deeper, her breath breaking into a cry.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, voice urgent, trembling. “Please—don’t stop.”
His hips drove harder, reverence collapsing into need, every stroke a vow turned to fire. He couldn’t breathe for the way she clung to him, body claiming every part of him.
“Viktor,” she gasped, her back arching beneath his hands. “I need you—don’t stop—”
“I won’t,” he rasped, breath uneven.
His forehead pressed to hers, his lips shuddering against her mouth.
“Storm take me, Ami—you own me. You’ve always owned me.”
Her cry fractured into a whimper. His thrusts deepened, driving her higher, until her whole body tightened around him.
“Viktor—Viktor—” she sobbed, voice breaking. “It feels so—”
“Let go,” he whispered, mouth at her throat. “I’ve got you, Ami. I’ll give you everything—every breath, every bit of me—until you never forget whose you are.”
“Viktor—it’s—so good—”
“That’s it,” he groaned, raw, undone. “You’re mine, Amerei—mine.”
Pleasure surged—fiercer, higher than she’d ever dreamed it could be. Her cry rose, shattering on his name.
“Yes,” he gasped, shaking, each thrust harder, hungrier.
“Dask, Amerei—storm take me—yes.”
“Viktor—”
Her head fell back, golden hair spilling across the pillow as release tore through her, his name breaking from her lips in a sound that shattered him.
A guttural cry broke from his chest as his control gave way, thrusts rough and desperate, worship and ruin entangled. He poured everything into her—every vow, every breath—until her body pulled him over the edge with her.
They collapsed into each other—wrecked, breathless, devouring air as if the world itself had ended.
For a long, shivering heartbeat neither moved, their skin still slick, their souls still trembling where they met. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her chest, and he clutched her back as though she might vanish if he loosened his grip.
“I didn’t know,” she panted.
He lifted his head, eyes wild with worry. “Did I hurt you?” His palm framed her face, hand shaking against her jaw. “Tell me, love—swear to me—because I’ll break if I did.”
“No…”
She exhaled softly, her smile blooming beneath his touch.
“Viktor, I didn’t know it could feel like that. You—”
Her laugh burst, half wonder, half disbelief.
Dask, she’s smiling. After all that—she’s smiling. Storms, I thought I’d shatter her. And now… now I can’t stop wanting her.
He caught that laugh with his mouth, kissing her slow, deep, tasting every breath she gave him.
“I love you,” he murmured against her lips, the words torn out of him like confession. “You’re mine, Amerei. Perfect. Mine.”
A low sound rumbled in his chest, and he dragged her closer until her body molded to his.
“Storm take me,” he breathed, his voice wrecked with awe. “You give me one taste, and I’m undone for life.”
She curled against him, cheek to his chest, his arms closing around her like a shield and a vow.
“Viktor…”
Her voice quivered, tender and curious.
“Is it always… that much?”
His laugh came rough, dark with lingering hunger. He tipped her chin up until her lips parted under his thumb. His eyes burned into hers—steady, possessive, still a little wild.
“It’s only like this because it’s you. Only you.”
Dask, look at her. I’ll never be enough—but I’ll die trying to be.
“I’ll spend my life proving it,” he vowed, voice low. “Again and again, until the world knows you’re mine.”
She forgot to breathe, wonder bright in her eyes.
“Viktor… I’ll never be the same.”
“My love,” he exhaled, still raw from ruin. “That was only the beginning. And I’ll never let it be the end.”
She pressed closer, tracing lazy circles against his arm.
“Did you… call me Ami?”
He groaned, dragging a hand over his face.
“Dask, did I? Must’ve slipped.”
Her smile deepened.
“My father used to call me that. Evander still does sometimes.”
He caught her hand, thumb stroking her palm—gentle but claimed.
“Then tell Evander it’s mine now.”
Her smile curved against his throat.
“Do you have one? Something only family calls you?”
His body went taut. He groaned into his hands.
“Dask… I do.”
“Tell me.”
She lifted on her elbow, eyes bright with mischief.
He peeked through his fingers.
“It’s… Tory.”
Her eyes lit like dawn.
“Tory!” she laughed, delight spilling out of her.
He dropped his hand over his face again, grinning helplessly.
“Stars above, there goes my dignity.”
“Tory Seraphim,” she teased, snuggling in. “I think I like it.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” he muttered, sweeping her hair from her shoulder.
“I’m not convinced anyone in Westport even remembers my real name.”
“Tory Seraphim,” she said again. “Ruakite soldier, consort to the Queen of Casqadia.”
He shook his head, laughing quietly.
“Just don’t tell the men. Gabriel’s only just stopped giving me hell.”
“Tell Gabriel…” She smirked. “It’s mine now.”
His fingers slid down her spine, coaxing another soft moan from her lips.
Dask, that sound.
Her body melted against him again, still warm, still trembling from what they’d shared. She pressed a kiss to his chest, her hand daring lower.
“Amerei?” he breathed, voice fraying.
Moonlight caught the gleam in her eyes.
“I don’t want to sleep yet,” she whispered, fingers wandering.
Storms… she wants more.
“I want to feel you again,” she said. “Do you think we could try?”
His laugh broke—shattered, reverent, disbelieving.
“Try?”
He caught her hand, pressing it flat to his chest where his heart still thundered.
“Love, I’ll give you everything until you can’t say my name without shaking. You’ll know I was made for you.”
He rolled her onto her back, her laugh catching like song.
“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he murmured, kissing her brow, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
She tugged at the hem of his smallclothes, bold through her nerves.
“We can do it again?”
His voice cracked, ragged with awe.
“Dask, Amerei—ask me like that, and I’ll never stop.”
His hands slid to her hips, drawing her close until she was flush against him. The pillow above her head caught his eye—a relic of all that once kept them apart. He dragged it down, tucking it beneath her hips, teeth gritting at the sight of her offered up to him like that.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
He rose over her, palms gliding down her body, hunger steady in every movement.
“So you’ll feel all of me, the way I feel you. So I can give you everything, hold nothing back. But only if you want it.”
Her eyes shimmered—fear and wanting twined. He felt her tremor, saw her breath catch—as if she half-believed he could break her, and half longed for him to try.
Then she nodded, breathless.
Her legs slid around his waist, drawing him close with startling boldness.
“Dask, Ami…”
His lips brushed her brow, voice rough, coaxing.
“Hold me however you want. High, low—change them as you please. I’ll take you every way your body asks me.”
She laughed softly, half-wonder, half-nerves.
“We’re still… practicing, aren’t we?”
His forehead pressed to hers, laughter shaking through him.
“Stars, yes. Practice on me, love. Try everything. I’ll worship you for every way you break me.”
Her boldness sparked again. Slowly, trembling but brave, she lifted her legs higher, resting them along his shoulders. The motion dragged a gasp from her throat and a guttural sound from deep in his chest. His whole body jerked at the closeness, his control fraying.
“Amerei—” his voice cracked, breath shuddering. “Dask. You’re going to ruin me like this—”
She giggled, startled by her own daring, the sound bright as the candlelight flickering over them. Then she eased back, legs sliding down to wrap his waist once more.
He laughed—wrecked, breathless. She’d undone him without even letting him inside.
“See?” he murmured against her lips. “Every way you move wrecks me. Every way.”
Her chest rose with sharp anticipation, hands roaming his back with hunger she no longer tried to tame. The firelight caught her emerald eyes, turning them wild—stormlight on water.
“What is it, love?” he whispered, restraint fraying to threads. He was terrified of overwhelming her, desperate not to stop.
Her lips curved. “Are we truly alone?”
He caught her hand, kissed her palm. With a breath, he listened—Endowment whispering through the halls, the faint hush of empty corridors.
“No footsteps. No voices. The north wing is empty.”