Cassian stepped closer. “You think I want it?”
“You’re talking like it’s already done.”
“Because I’m trying to prepare you.”
She shoved him, hard enough that his boots scraped against stone. “Screw your preparation. I’m not a soldier following orders. I’m not going to just stand by and let fate take you.”
He grabbed her wrists. Not hard. Just enough.
“I would die for you.”
“Then live for me instead.”
The rain hissed through the ruins. Thunder rolled.
He let go of her hands.
She didn’t step back.
Cassian’s voice dropped to a rasp. “I don’t know how to be anything else. I’ve always been the weapon. The fire. The thing you throw into the storm and hope it burns long enough to matter.”
She reached up, cupped his jaw. “You’re more than that.”
He leaned into her touch, just slightly. “You shouldn’t have to carry this with me.”
“Too late,” she whispered. “I already am.”
The next breath collapsed between them as their mouths crashed together—hungry, desperate, real.
Cassian gripped her like he didn’t know how to let go, one hand tangled in her hair, the other sliding down the curve of her spine as she arched into him. Her damp clothes clung to her like a second skin, but he didn’t stop to undress her delicately. They tore at each other—buttons popping, leather groaning—until layers fell in a crumpled heap and only heat remained.
Rain hissed against the ruins, thunder cracking like a war drum. The stone beneath them was cold, but they barely felt it. All she felt washim.
Cassian pulled back for a heartbeat, chest heaving. His storm-gray eyes burned—lightning flickering in the depths. They raked over her bare form like he was memorizing her from the inside out.
“Gods, Sera…”
Her bronze-toned skin glistened with rain, the subtle shimmer of her scales catching the firelight from the flickering torch he'd tossed down earlier. Her gold-flecked eyes met his, blazing with something between fury and ache.
“I don’t want careful,” she rasped. “Not tonight. I wantyou.”
Cassian cupped her jaw and kissed her again—deeper this time, more possessive, moreneeding. His mouth moved down her neck, teeth grazing the tender skin at her collarbone before he sucked a mark there, growling against her throat.
She moaned when his mouth found her breast, lips closing around one peaked nipple, tongue flicking with heat. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, anchoring him to her.
“Cassian…”
He kissed lower, dragging his tongue down her stomach until he was between her thighs. Her legs parted instinctively, and the sight of her pussy—wet, flushed, glistening—stole his breath.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growled. “So wet already.”
He didn’t waste time. His mouth latched onto her clit and sucked, hard and slow, tongue circling, teasing. She cried out, hips lifting off the stone, but he pinned her with strong hands at her thighs, holding her down as he devoured her.
She tasted like salt and starlight and something dark and divine.
Seraphine writhed, panting, “Don’t stop—fuck—Cassian?—”
He groaned, the sound vibrating through her as he buried his tongue in her, lapping at her core with reverence and need. When he sucked her clit again, her body locked tight, a broken sob leaving her lips as she came, pussy clenching around nothing, slick gushing against his mouth.
