Chapter 24 #2
My body opens around him, stretching, burning in that perfect way that makes my toes curl and my fingers dig into his back.
Heat sprawls out from the point where he presses into me, radiating through my hips, my chest, my throat, until I swear I’m glowing from the inside.
My lips part on a broken sound—half gasp, half prayer. He swallows it with his mouth, kissing me like he’s starving, like he’s been waiting lifetimes instead of hours.
Fire licks over my skin, not painful, just there—a living thing that knows my name now.
Every glide of his hands, every shift of his hips, sends little sparks skittering along my nerves.
They gather at my spine, my stomach, my heart.
I arch up into him, helpless to do anything else.
I want him closer, always closer, like if I try hard enough our bones might melt together.
Every nerve ending is blazing. Every fear I’ve carried—about this place, about him, about me—drowns beneath the roar of wanting and the fierce, impossible rightness of his body locked with mine.
One thought rises up through the heat, clear and sure, singing through me like a battle cry and a promise all at once.
Whatever this is, however long it lasts—I’m running straight into it.
Into him.
Into this bond—this zareth.
Into us.
He pulls back just far enough to look at me, his hips still pressed flush against mine, his ember-bright irises locking onto my gaze.
His power hums under my palms, wild and contained all at once, because I asked him not to hold back and he listened.
“Stay with me, Shula,” he growls, voice thick, reverent and commanding all at once.
I wrap my legs around his hips, holding him right where I want him, and meet that burning gaze without flinching.
“I’m here,” I whisper, breathless and sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And then I hang on—heart, body, soul—while the Lord of Fire shows me exactly what it means to be his, to be wanted by a Demon Prince without reservations or restraint.
“That’s it, Shula. Open for me. Come for me,” he growls, each thrust hard and sure, like he’s carving the words into my bones.
Heat coils low and tight inside me, a fuse burning down.
My fingers clutch at his shoulders, his biceps, anywhere I can hold on as he moves—deep, relentless, perfect.
The place where his hands grip my hips is scorching, his thumbs digging into my soft flesh like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he lets go for even a breath.
Like he’s branding me.
His.
And God help me—I love it.
I love him.
The realization is familiar, but still it hits sharp and bright—not new, not really, but clearer than ever as my body rides the edge he’s driving me toward.
My chest feels too tight, my heart beating wild against my ribs, trying to reach him from the inside.
“Thorne,” I gasp, my voice shaking. “I—”
He leans over me, his forehead pressing to mine, sweat-slick skin and heat and the smell of smoke and something that is just him surrounding me completely.
His hips never falter, never slow.
“I see it,” he rasps, voice rough like gravel dragged through embers. “I see everything in your eyes, Shula. Every truth you are too brave and too stubborn to hide. I see what you’re saying without words…”
His breath shudders out, his gaze burning into mine.
“And it humbles me so damn much.”
My throat closes.
Emotion slams into me, hot as his body, fierce as his power.
“I-I mean it, Thorne,” I whisper, the words ripping right out of my chest. “I love you.”
There. It’s out.
No taking it back. No pretending it’s anything less.
For a heartbeat, the world narrows to his face—those ember eyes widening, flaring like someone fed fresh coal to the fire inside him.
His next thrust falters, just once, like the confession knocked him off balance.
Then he groans, low and wrecked, and buries his face against my neck.
His lips move over my skin, finding my mark, breathing me in like I’m the only air he trusts.
“My viyella,” he says, the title reverent and raw. “My Shula. You understand I will never let you go now, don’t you?”
His words vibrate against my throat, sinking straight into my pulse.
My eyes sting. Tears blur the ceiling into streaks of shadow and gold. My legs tighten around his waist, drawing him even deeper, anchoring us together like I can weld our bodies into one.
“Good,” I manage, voice breaking. “Because I’ll never let you go.”
Something in him snaps at that—beautifully, gloriously.
His rhythm changes, not rougher exactly, but more intense, more determined, like every thrust is a vow he’s hammering into place.
“Mine,” he pants against my mouth, kissing me between the word and the next breath.
“My brave, beautiful Shula. My heart. My flame. Say it again.”
“I love you,” I choke out, the words dissolving into a moan as pleasure climbs sharp and fast, rushing through me like a tidal wave of molten light.
“Thorne, I love you—”
The bond between us flares, bright as lightning. I swear I feel it, a rush of fire and something softer threading itself between our hearts, our souls, sewing us together with invisible, unbreakable stitches.
The pressure inside me snaps.
I shatter around him, crying out his name as my whole body arches, trembles, breaks—but in the best way, the only way that’s ever felt right.
Every nerve explodes, every muscle clenches, and all I can feel is him—us—that wild, perfect collision of love and need.
Thorne roars my name, his body driving deep once, twice, then holding there as he follows me over the edge, shaking with the force of it.
I feel him lose control, feel the last of his restraint burn away as he surrenders with me.
For a long moment, there’s no Nightfall. No SoulTakers. No wars.
Just his weight covering me, his chest heaving against mine, our hearts hammering in the same wild rhythm.
He nuzzles into my neck, his voice a hoarse rasp against my skin.
“You are my greatest sin,” he whispers, “and my only salvation.”
I smile, tears slipping sideways into my hair.
“Good,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around him, holding him as tightly as he’s holding me. “Because you’re mine, too.”
And as the aftershocks fade and his warmth blankets every trembling inch of me, I know—whatever comes next, whatever we face—I won’t regret this.
I won’t regret him.
Not now. Not ever.