Chapter 35 #2
“You don’t get to do that again,” he rasps, voice shredded at the edges. “You don’t get to throw yourself into the fire and expect me to do fuck all. I won’t survive losing you.”
I search his face—those sharp, unforgiving angles, the blood-red eyes that burn like they were forged in war. The madness is still there, coiled in the corners where his smile usually lives—but there’s no smile now.
“I don’t give a shit if you hate me for it,” he growls. “I’ll chain you to me if that’s what it takes. You come first. Always. You hear me?”
A beat of silence stretches between us.
“No one else fucking matters to me.”
My gaze drops for a second, catching the flash of silver where his daggers cross his chest. His fingers stay firm beneath my chin, anchoring me there like he thinks I’ll disappear if he lets go. He doesn’t realise I’m already rooted—by him, by this.
The only sound between us is the waterfall, crashing over stone.
“I’ll always choose you, and them.”
“And I choose you,” he yells. “Everyone else can burn before I let something happen to you.”
My pulse thunders—behind my eyes, behind my ribs. I pull back from his grip, never breaking his stare. The air shifts with me, the wind turning sharp, tugging at my hair like it senses the storm building under my skin. Overhead, the sky begins to darken.
“I will die before I let anything happen to you all,” I say, my voice rising with the wind. “So don’t test me.”
His jaw tics. My magic hums.
He looks at me, silent and still, like he’s seeing something in me that mirrors the worst part of himself.
And maybe that’s exactly what this is.
Two monsters who would burn everything to ash if it meant keeping each other alive.
The cold air bites at my skin. I inhale slowly, trying to steady the magic inside me as it begs to be let loose.
His gaze drags over me. Not with desire this time, but rage. Controlled by a thread so thin it's already fraying.
“You’re so fucking stubborn, Ravena,” he growls harshly—and my heart stutters. He never says my name.
“You’re not invincible. So, stop trying to save everyone.”
My hands tremble at my sides, fingertips tingling, sparks crackling just beneath the skin. The magic is pressing up through me, wild and aching, like it wants to split me open from the inside out.
The wind screams through the trees, rippling leaves from their branches and sending them spinning like shrapnel. Even the vines are moving now, slithering up from the forest floor, restless and alive.
“I hate you sometimes,” I snap, voice shaking with too many things I can’t name.
It’s a lie. We both know it.
My fists clench at my sides, shaking as I try to force the magic down, to contain it. But it's not listening. It wants out. And I’m losing the grip I swore I had.
Then suddenly, his hands are on my face.
I don’t even see him move. One second, I’m drowning, then the next he’s there—grounding me, holding onto me. His touch is firm, steady, and somehow more solid than the earth beneath me. His face inches from mine.
“That’s unfortunate, little witch,” he breathes. “Because I fucking love you.”
His words hit harder than any spell ever could. I never thought those words would fall from his mouth.
“You… love me?” I whisper, scared to say it aloud like it might shatter everything.
His hold doesn’t falter. If anything, it tightens.
“I do. I’m not Ronan, I don’t do soft. No hearts, no flowers, no sweet promises whispered in the dark.”
He leans in, his forehead resting against mine.
“But when I heard you scream—when I think about you dying—I lost whatever scraps of control I had left. Maybe I don’t know how love is supposed to feel. But if this burning, choking fire in my chest isn’t it, then I don’t want the real thing.”
My fingers dig into the worn leather of his shirt. “I love—”
But he cuts me off, crashing his mouth against mine before the words can even find air.
His kiss is rough, hungry—like he’s trying to shove every silent confession, every desperate craving into the heat between us. His fangs scrape against my bottom lip teasingly, reminding me of what those fangs have done to me.
My knees betray me, shaking from his touch.
Without hesitation, his hands clamp under my thighs without a second thought, hoisting me up like I weigh nothing.
My legs lock around his waist, dragging him against me, spine arching as the rough bark bites into my back.
His mouth crashes down on mine again, unyielding and demanding.
I meet him fully, pouring everything into it, every wild beat of my heart into the kiss.
I need the taste of him like I need air.
His voice cuts through the heat, rough and low against my lips.
“Everything’s about to spiral into chaos in the next few days. And all I want is to bury myself inside you so deep you lose track of everything else around us. To fill every part of you until the only thing left on your tongue, in your pussy, is me.”
A slow, scorching heat coils low in my belly, spreading with an undeniable hunger.
His touch clenches tighter around my thighs, and his eyes burn into mine like he can feel how turned on I am.
“Then fuck me. Use me,” I plead.
His grin flashes—dark, savage—the kind that promises he’s about to shatter me in ways I never knew I needed.
His lips press against my neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses that burn all the way down to my collarbone. His hips grind into mine, pinning me hard against the tree, the bark biting into my spine, grounding me in the best kind of pain.
In one swift, ruthless motion, he yanks my hoodie over my head and tosses it aside like it offended him just by touching my skin.
“Hold on.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him as I lift my hips to help. However, my leggings get caught at my knees, and he snarls in frustration. I see a wild flicker of anger in his eyes, and moments later, the fabric is torn in two with a savage rip and tossed aside.
It didn’t matter. Gods, none of that mattered but his touch.
I kiss him again, teeth and tongue, and need, grinding down against his thick, rigid heat, still strapped behind his leathers. All I can think about is more. Now. Harder. I want him to ruin me. I want to forget about everything.
“As hot as these leathers are,” I trail my fingers along his chest. “I can’t exactly get them off you.”
His answering chuckle is low and wicked, pure sin wrapped in sound. But that also means he has to let me go.
I pout the second my feet hit the ground, every ache in me craving his weight again. He starts undoing the straps across his chest, every movement a silent command. One dagger drops, landing on the grass with a soft, metallic thud—each one a dark, dangerous promise I can't look away from.
And by the stars, the way he moves, unbuckling that leather makes heat curl up deep in my belly.
He finds the zipper of his leathers, and fuck, he takes his time.
Every inch that slides open makes my thighs clench, each reveal more torturous than the last. Pale skin, hard muscles, sharp lines, black ink curling over him, and his pierced nipples catching the light, daring me to trace them with my tongue.
My mouth parts before I can stop it. I want to taste every mark. Bite them into memory.
He notices.
“You’re drooling, little witch,” he purrs, voice dark enough to make my knees weak. “Should I slow down more, or are you gonna beg already?”
He’s infuriating. Smug, cocky, completely aware of the effect he has on me—and absolutely unbothered by it.
And gods help me, every fibre of me wants to beg. I want to drop to my knees, to beg him to fill me so completely I forget the ache in my chest.
But I won't give him the satisfaction. Not yet.
I lift my gaze to that wicked, hungry glint in his eyes and let out a slow, defiant breath. “You're not nearly as charming as you think you are.”
His smirk deepens. “Oh, love, I’ve never claimed to be charming.”
The top of his leathers slips from his shoulders, revealing more of him. It falls to the ground behind him, forgotten. He steps in, crowding my space like a stormfront, and pulls me against him—skin to skin, heat to heat. There’s no room left to think, only feel.
Then, in an instant, we're moving. The world tilts and blurs with that dizzying speed only he can achieve—the cold air lashing against my exposed skin until we come to a stop at the edge of the river.
A wide, smooth stone rests just above the waterline, kissed by the golden sun. Below, petals drift over the surface—violet, blush pink, bone-white—glowing like spells whispered into the wild.
Malrik guides me to step onto the stone with a gentleness that shouldn’t exist in a body wired for violence. The rock is warm beneath me, kissed by the sunlight, and the scent of crushed wildflowers clings to the air—sweet, heady, intoxicating. The waterfall roars around us.
Just as he dips toward me to kiss me again, he stills.
His head cocks slightly, the predator in him waking with eerie calm. Not tense. Not started. Amused.
“Might as well come out if you’re going to watch, or join us.” He calls out.
I twist, pulse fluttering, and glance over my shoulder.
Ronan leans against the tree at the forest's edge, half draped in shadows. Arms crossed as his eyes roamed my naked body.
His eyes lock onto me—devouring and unblinking—he’s already seen everything. Every scar. Every secret written across my skin. There’s no shame in his gaze, only a dark, intense heat.
Malrik chuckles slowly, the sound brushing over my spine like smoke and sin. “Look at him, little witch,” he says, voice thick with a wicked delight. His hands drag slowly down my arms before he eases me around to face Ronan properly.
My breath hitches.
Ronan steps from the shadows, slow and unhurried. The light cuts along the sharp edges of his stubbled jaw, the dark mess of his hair. His arousal is obvious—straining hard against the front of his grey joggers.