Bryce positioned him at her entrance, panting at the brush of the blunt head of his cock. But she released him. Let him decide whether this was what he wanted. This final bridge between their souls.
The lightning cleared from his eyes—as if he willed it. As if he wanted her to see the male beneath.
Pure Hunt. No one and nothing else.
It was a question, somehow. As if he were showing her every scar and wound, every dark corner. Asking if this—if he—was what she really wanted. Bryce only smiled softly. “I love you,” she whispered. Shuddering, Hunt kissed her and slid home.
Nothing had ever felt so right.
Hunt worked himself into her, filling her deliciously, perfectly. With each gentle thrust, each inch gained into her, her light flared brighter. His lightning cracked, over and around them.
His back flexed beneath her fingers, his wings tucking in tight. His chest heaved in great bellows, pushing against her breasts, the star between them.
Another inch, another shudder of pleasure. And then he slid out. And out. And out.
His tongue flicked against hers as he slammed back, right to the hilt. Light spilled from her like an overflowing cup, rippling across the forest floor.
Bryce clawed at his back, his neck, and Hunt’s teeth found her breast, clamping down. She went wild, hips driving up to meet him, power clashing with power.
Hunt set a steady, punishing pace, and she laid her hands on his ass just to feel the muscles clenching with each thrust, to feel him pushing into her—
He claimed her mouth again, and Bryce wrapped her legs around his waist. She moaned as he sank in, and his thrusts turned harder, faster. Lightning and starlight ricocheted between them.
She needed him wilder. Needed him to release that edge of fear and rage and become her Hunt again. She tightened her legs around him, and flipped them. The world spun, and then she was staring down at him, his cock buried so deep—
Lightning flowed over his teeth as he panted, all those abs flexing. Gods, he was beautiful. And hers. Utterly hers.
Bryce lifted her hips, rising off his cock—and then plunged back down. She arched as he kissed the star on her chest. She rose again, a steady, taunting slide, and then impaled herself.
He snarled against her skin. “Merciless, Quinlan.”
Close. So close. She rose once more, luxuriating in each inch of his cock, nearly pulling herself from his tip. And as she drove down, she clenched her delicate inner muscles around him.
Hunt roared, and she was again on her back as he slammed into her. His power flowed over her, filled her, and she was him, and he was her, and then his cock hit that perfect spot deep in her, and the world was only light—
Release blasted through her, and Bryce might have been laughing, or sobbing, or shouting his name. Hunt rode her through it all, nursing every last drop of pleasure, and then he was moving again, punishing thrusts that sent them sliding across the mossy floor. His wings were a wall of gray above them, his wings were—glowing.
They filled with iridescent light. He filled with light.
Bryce reached a hand toward his blazing wings. Her own fingers, her hand, her arm—they radiated the same light. As if they had become filled with power, as if her light had leaked into him, and his into her—
“Look at you,” he breathed. “Bryce.”
“Look at us,” she whispered, and lifted up to kiss him. He met her halfway, tongues tangling. His thrusts turned wilder. He was close.
“I want to go with you,” he said against her mouth. Sounding … almost normal again.
“Then make it happen,” she said, hand sliding for his balls. His fingers caressed her clit. Began stroking.
Bryce kneaded his balls, and a shudder went through him. Another. On the third stroke, she squeezed hard, right as lightning streamed from his fingers and—
She was falling. Had the distant sense of screaming her pleasure to the surface miles above, of an orgasm rocking through her, reducing her mind to rubble. She was vaguely conscious of Hunt pumping into her, spilling into her, over and over—
Falling through time and space and light and shadow—
Up was down and down was up, and they were the only beings in existence, here in this garden, locked away from time—
Something cold and hard pushed into her back, but she didn’t care, not as she clenched Hunt to her, gasping down air, sanity. He was shaking, wings twitching, whispering, “Bryce, Bryce, Bryce,” in her ear.
Sweat coated their bodies, and she dragged her fingers down his spine. He was hers, and she was his, and—
“Bryce,” Hunt said, and Bryce opened her eyes.