I savored him.
And when he finally returned to me, finally kissed me again, finally aligned himself with my entrance, he pushed himself into me slowly.
My thighs opened wider for him, encircling his waist. But unlike our usual frenzied trysts, I didn’t urge him harder. I moved with him as he pressed deep into me, allowing him all of me—allowing him to brand the deepest parts of me.
His mouth never left mine, tongue teasing me, lips testing every angle. We moved together as if connected by something deeper than flesh—and indeed, I could feel his presence, his threads, intertwining with mine.
He withdrew slowly and pushed back into me. The pleasure, for the slowness of the pace, was unbearable. Our shared moan vibrated against our lips. My hips rose to meet his.
“Atrius.”
I didn’t mean to say his name. It was just the only word I could form—the only thing I could think. I was surrounded by him. Atrius. Atrius. Atrius.
“Vi,” he whispered.
Another thrust. We writhed together, languishing in each other’s bodies.
Another. My cries of pleasure grew louder. His grip on my body firmer. We coiled around each other, tighter and tighter, drawing each other closer, wringing shared pleasure from our closeness.
His kiss deepened, fierce and slow and passionate, as he thrust into me, murmuring my name again into my lips.
Weaver, I loved to hear him say it.
I loved to have him this close to me.
I loved being this exposed to him, every part of me.
“Atrius,” I whimpered again, my fingernails digging into his back—a plea for him to stay with me, to come with me, to follow me into this oblivion.
“Yes,” he whispered, understanding, as always, all that I was saying.
And then he drew back, just enough so that his forehead pressed to mine, and with my eyes wide open I could see him—see his soul, his threads, see the blurry outline of his silhouette, his beautiful eyes, and above all, the confession in them as his hips thrust against mine and we threw ourselves over the edge together.
I clenched around him as I came, pulling him against me. He did the same, the two of us entwined so closely that I could no longer tell where his flesh ended and mine began.
When the ecstasy faded, he didn’t move. He just held me. He rolled to the side, pulling his weight off me, but his grip didn’t loosen, and I didn’t pull away from it.
I would never pull away from it.
A truth solidified in me, an echo of the confession I saw in his eyes then. I wouldn’t hide it from him.
Because that’s all it was. A truth.
“I love you,” I whispered, against the smooth flesh of his shoulder.
The reaction in his presence was immediate and sudden. I felt him stop breathing for a moment, then resume. Felt the skip in his steady heartbeat.
My chest warmed at that.
He pulled me closer and said against my hair, “You like the room then.”
I chuckled. “I do.”
“Good,” he murmured. “Because even though there’s no longer a curse, I can’t seem to sleep without you.”
He rolled to his back, still not releasing me, and I went with him, my head on his chest. I could feel that heartbeat beneath my palm now—slow and strong, and utterly unburdened.
And then he whispered, his fingertips trailing through the whorls of my hair, “I love you, seer.”
My eyes closed.
Strange, how being so exposed can make a soul feel so very safe.
We had challenges ahead of us, I knew. A kingdom that would not want to accept us. A human populace struggling with poverty and drug addiction and decades worth of oppression. A Bloodborn populace still struggling with an ancient curse, even if Atrius’s had been lifted. A vampire society that might one day decide to interfere with ours. Gods who may grow displeased at a kingdom led by a vampire and a human.
I was more vulnerable than I had ever been.
But for the first time in my life, I was not afraid. I was at peace with the past, the present, and the future.
“I think,” Atrius murmured, as if he was having the same thoughts I did, “the future will be good.”
He said this thoughtfully, slowly, like it was a conclusion he had arrived at logically.
“You’re lucky I believe you,” I murmured.
“I don’t lie.”
I smiled, recognizing the echo of our past. “Everyone lies.”
He stroked my hair. “Not me.”
And Weaver help me, I believed him.
THE END
Read on for a note from the author plus a preview of Slaying the Shifter Prince by Clare Sager—the next book in Mortal Enemies to Monster Lovers!