Chapter 42
Nova
His pulse races beneath my fingers. I feel him—not just physically, but on a level that defies explanation. Something primal. Ancient. Mine.
When I look up into his eyes, the change steals my breath. Those steel-gray irises I’ve come to know are now burning gold around the edges, bright and impossible.
“Dane,” I whisper, and his name feels different in my mouth. Sacred.
He doesn’t speak, just watches me with those transformed eyes.
His broad shoulders rise and fall with each breath, the ash-brown hair falling in slight disarray across his forehead.
Battle-scarred skin stretched over hard muscle.
Every inch of him radiates power, but it’s different now—refined, concentrated, like lightning trapped in flesh.
I step closer. Heat radiates from him, making my skin prickle with awareness. When my palm presses against his chest, I feel it—the echo of my magic inside him, twisted with something ancient that was always there, sleeping in his blood.
“I felt you die,” I say. “I felt you stop.”
His hand covers mine, pressing it harder against his heart. “And I felt you drag me back.”
When he leans down, I rise to meet him. Our lips touch—not in hunger or desperation like before, but in recognition. In claiming.
Mate.
The word blooms in my mind, unfurling like truth. This pull between us was never just desire. Never just convenience or survival. It was this—this primal, unbreakable bond that survived death itself.
His eyes darken as he looks at me, gold giving way to black, pupils blown wide with lust.
Dane’s hands find my waist, strong and certain as he guides me backward through his cabin.
I can’t take my eyes off him—the way the cabin’s dim light catches on his transformed eyes, that ring of gold around steel gray.
His cabin smells like him—cedar and leather and something wild—but underneath it all, I catch the lingering scent of blood and magic. Reminders of what we’ve survived.
“I need to see you,” he says, voice dark with hunger.
My back meets the edge of his bed, that same bed where I’d lain broken and half-conscious—though it feels like a lifetime ago.
Now my skin burns with awareness, nerve endings alive and singing as his hands slide under my shirt.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, brushing my hair from my face.
“So are you,” I whisper back.
His mouth curves into something between a smile and a snarl. “That’s not fear.”
He peels my shirt up slowly, his knuckles dragging against my skin. I raise my arms, letting him pull it over my head. The air hits my bare skin, but I don’t feel cold—not with the way he’s looking at me, like I’m something to be devoured.
Dane takes his time, undressing me piece by piece. His fingers work the clasp of my bra, slide my pants down my hips. Each new inch of exposed skin gets his full attention: rough fingertips tracing patterns, his mouth following, teeth scraping lightly against sensitive flesh.
When I’m naked before him, he steps back, just looking. I should feel exposed. Vulnerable. Instead, I feel powerful under his gaze.
“Take yours off too,” I say.
He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t make a show of it.
Just pulls his shirt over his head, revealing that broad chest marked with old scars—badges of every fight he’s survived.
But his skin over his heart is smooth, unmarked.
Whatever happened when I pulled him back left no trace on his body, only on his blood, on his soul.
My gaze drops lower, tracing the defined ridges of his abdomen. Hard muscle carved from years of training, of fighting. The V of his hips cuts sharply toward the waistband of his pants, those oblique muscles flexing as he breathes.
I reach out to touch the place where a scar should be—where Faelan’s magic tore through him, where his heart stopped beneath my hands.
He catches my wrist and brings my fingers to his mouth instead.
His lips press against my palm, then he turns my hand and sets his teeth gently against the inside of my wrist, where my own scar has faded to a silvery line.
“Mine,” he growls, the word vibrating against my pulse.
The single word hits me like a physical force. My breath catches, desire flooding between my legs so suddenly it makes me dizzy.
He lays me down with a gentleness that contrasts with the hunger in his eyes. Then he’s above me, his weight braced on his forearms as he lowers his mouth to my neck. His teeth scrape the sensitive skin there, and I arch into the sensation.
“Stay still,” he commands, voice dark with promise.
I don’t. Can’t. My hips rise, seeking friction, but he presses me down with one large hand spanning my abdomen.
“I said, ‘stay still.’” His eyes flash. “I want to savor every inch of you.”
He worships me methodically, thoroughly, starting at my neck, trailing down to my collarbones, the hollow of my throat. His mouth is hot, his stubble a delicious burn against my skin. When his lips close around my nipple, I gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders.
I’ve never felt so treasured.
“Dane,” I breathe, not recognizing my own voice.
“I love how you say my name, your accent,” he murmurs against my breast. “Say it again.”
“Dane,” I repeat, this time on a moan as he moves to my other breast, teasing with teeth and tongue until I’m writhing beneath him.
His hand slides down between my legs, and he makes a sound—half groan, half snarl—when his fingers find me slick and ready.
“Look how wet you are,” he says, voice thick with satisfaction. “All for me.”
I should have a sharp retort. Some cool response. Instead, I just nod, shameless and honest. “Yes.” The word escapes on a breath, barely audible.
He moves down my body, positioning himself between my thighs. His eyes lock with mine as he places open-mouthed kisses on my inner thighs, working his way closer to where I need him most. The anticipation is almost unbearable.
When his mouth finally touches me, I cry out. His tongue parts me, slow and deliberate, tasting every inch. My hands fist in the sheets, then in his hair, urging him closer.
“So sweet,” he murmurs against me, the vibration of his words sending shocks of pleasure through my body.
His fingers join his mouth, sliding inside me while his tongue circles my clit. The dual sensation is overwhelming. I’m already close, embarrassingly so.
“That’s it,” he encourages, curving his finger to hit that spot inside me that makes my vision blur. “Let go.”
When he sucks my clit between his lips while pressing a second finger inside me, I shatter. The orgasm rips through me without warning, making my back arch off the bed. I cry out his name, over and over, as waves of pleasure crash through me.
Before I can recover, he’s working me higher again. His movements slow this time—deliberate, almost cruel in their precision. His fingers curl inside me, finding that perfect spot while his tongue traces lazy circles around my swollen clit.
“I can’t—“ I gasp, my body already trembling. “Dane, I can’t—”
“You can.” He looks up at me with those gold-rimmed eyes, his mouth glistening. “And you will.”
He adds a third finger, stretching me, the fullness making me keen. His tongue flattens against my clit, then flicks rapidly—a rhythm that builds heat low in my belly. My hands fist in the sheets, then in his hair, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against me, the vibration of his words shooting straight through my core. “I can feel you getting close again.”
He’s right. The pressure is building, different from before—deeper, more intense. His fingers pump steadily while his mouth works me without mercy. Sweat beads on my skin. My thighs shake.
“Please,” I hear myself beg, though I don’t know what I’m asking for. “Please, Dane—“
He responds by sucking my clit hard, his fingers curving to hit that spot inside me that makes my vision white out.
The second orgasm crashes through me without warning, stronger than the first. My entire body convulses, back arching off the bed, thighs clamping around his head as pleasure pulses through me in endless waves.
I scream—actually scream—his name tearing from my throat as the sensation goes on and on.
I lose all sense of time and place, aware only of his mouth on me, his fingers inside me, and the broken sounds I’m making.
When I come back to myself, I’m trembling, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Dane moves up my body, looking down at me with naked hunger and something deeper—something that makes my chest ache.
Every place his skin connects with mine burns like a brand. He pauses at my breasts, lowering his head to capture one nipple between his lips. The sensation shoots straight between my legs, making me arch against him.
“I feel every shiver,” he murmurs against my skin. His tongue traces lazy circles around my nipple before he sucks it hard enough to make me gasp.
I watch him through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized by the raw hunger on his face. His ash-brown hair falls across his forehead as he moves to my other breast, giving it the same torturous attention. His stubble scrapes deliciously against my sensitive skin, the slight pain enhancing the pleasure.
When he reaches my ear, he takes the lobe between his teeth, tugging gently.
“Right here,” he whispers, noticing my reaction. He focuses on that spot, alternating between feather-light kisses and the dangerous scrape of teeth until I’m squirming beneath him, desperate for more.
I look up into his eyes, and what I see there steals my breath. Those steel-gray irises are nearly black with desire, the gold ring around them glowing like embers. There’s hunger there, yes, but something else too—something fierce and protective and dangerously close to devotion.
He pulls back suddenly, standing at the edge of the bed. I feel the loss of his heat immediately, but the sight of him more than makes up for it. He unbuttons his pants, sliding them down his powerful legs along with his boxer briefs.
And there he is—completely naked before me.
I take him in slowly. His tousled hair falling across his forehead.
Those transformed eyes darkening further as he watches me watching him.
His broad chest rises and falls with each heavy breath.
His muscles are defined from years of fighting, of surviving, of protecting.
His arms—those powerful arms that have held me, carried me, saved me—flex slightly as he stands there, letting me look my fill.
Lower still. Past his narrow hips to his strong, muscled legs. And between them, his cock stands proud and heavy, veins visible along its impressive length. A drop of precum beads at the tip, and I lick my lips without thinking.
I want those arms around me again. Want to feel the weight of his body on mine, in mine.
“Come here,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He doesn’t move. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to taste you,” I admit, surprising myself with my boldness.
A muscle in his jaw ticks. He steps closer, placing one knee on the bed, then the other, walking on his knees until he’s straddling my chest, his cock level with my face.
I reach up, wrapping my fingers around his length. He’s hot and hard, the skin impossibly soft. With my other hand, I cup his balls, feeling their weight in my palm. He hisses at the contact, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping back open, unwilling to miss a second.
I lean forward, my tongue darting out to lick the drop of precum from his tip. The taste is salty, masculine, uniquely him. His entire body tenses above me as I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive underside.
“Fuuuuuck,” he growls, one hand coming to tangle in my hair.
I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I suck. My hand wraps around the thick base of his shaft—the inches my mouth can’t reach—stroking in time with each bob of my head. I look up through my lashes to find him watching me, his expression almost pained with pleasure.
His hips begin to move, shallow thrusts that push his cock deeper into my mouth. The hand in my hair tightens, not controlling but anchoring.
“Your fucking mouth,” he groans. “So hot. So wet.”
His words send heat spiraling through me. I squirm beneath him, clenching my thighs together, seeking relief. I take him deeper still, relaxing my throat to accommodate his size.
“Oh fuck, Nova,” he moans, his voice breaking. “What are you doing to me?”
I look up, meeting his gaze as I suck him harder, faster. His eyes are almost completely black now, that ring of gold the only color left.
“I’ve never—“ he cuts himself off with a groan as I swirl my tongue around his tip again. “Oh my God, I’m going to fucking come in your mouth ...”