My head fell back against his shoulder as he slipped two fingers inside me, and I could feel his eyes burning into me as he watched me unravel for him.
As the need climbed higher and higher, until I felt I might explode, he slid his hand from my pants and pulled me around to face him. Our lips crashed together, and I reached for his shirt, desperate to get it off him, to feel his skin, to feel him inside me.
His lips curved into a wicked grin against mine. He huffed a laugh as we broke apart to peel each other out of our clothes, and then he was pulling me down onto him, his cock sinking so deep inside me that I cried out.
The binding tattoo between my breasts tingled as we fell into a rhythm, my hips rolling as he lifted his to meet me in heavy thrusts. I grasped his shoulder and rested my forehead against his as I rode him.
“Gods, you feel like heaven,” he groaned, and I gasped as his fingers closed around my throat. He tilted my head back, forcing my gaze to his as his other hand gripped my waist. Pure hunger and need lit his pale, blue-gray eyes as he watched me, and he pulled my hips tighter against him on the next thrust, reaching deep enough to drag a moan from me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful riding my cock,” he growled, and a smile curved my lips.
Gods, I loved how he watched me, how I could make him feel, the sounds I could drag from him. His fingers loosened as I leaned into him, my fangs lengthening, hunger driving me to the edge. My lips parted, and he tilted his head to the side as he released my throat.
I bit down into his own shoulder, our moans blending in the most delicious way as I tasted his pleasure. His senses heightened, the ecstasy erupting between us. His blood was powerful, sweet and heady, and I drank deeply, feeling his magic—his power—coat my throat with each gulp.
He moaned, his pace quickening, and I rolled my hips, meeting each deep, desperate thrust. I released his throat, panting as my body cried out for release.
A smile curved my lips as I felt the familiar snaking of vines crawling over my thighs, my hands—his vines.
They wrapped around my wrists, farther up my arms, and then my neck, pulling my arms to my sides, forcing my back to arch as he watched me come undone. His heated eyes met mine as he used both his free hands to grab my hips, pulling me down as he slammed into me harder, exactly as I wanted. Right as I felt myself tipping over the edge, I felt a brush of his thumb over my clit.
My mouth fell open on a silent moan, the vines tightening their hold as he claimed me. So close. So fucking close.
I cried out his name, my body tightening around him.
“That’s right, fucking come for me,” he growled, pulling me down on him again.
I shattered, my orgasm crashing through me in unrelenting waves, but he didn’t let up. He never did, and I didn’t want him to. He would draw me over the edge, far beyond it, to a place I never wanted to return from.
Tears dotted my lashes as he fucked me harder, drawing it out, intensifying it beyond belief, and on the next thrust, his body shuddered, a moan spilling from his lips as he pumped his release into me. The vines quivered around me before they slackened their hold.
I collapsed against him as the vines receded, my body quivering, my skin sensitive as he caught me. He shifted and turned to ease me onto my back, twisting around to hover over me, his smile warm.
“So perfect,” he whispered, gazing down at me. “My bonded. My Thalia.”
I smiled despite the sadness winding its way through me at the sound of the name on his lips.
His eyes flitted between mine, the same sadness dulling them. He brushed his thumb over my cheek, and it was only then I realized an errant tear had slipped free without my permission. “What is it, love?”
“I wish you knew my true name,” I admitted.
“I don’t need to know your true name to know the true you,” he said, his eyes burning into mine. “To know you are the greatest thing to ever happen to me.”
7
THE GIRL WITH STORMY EYES
60 YEARS PRIOR
What is your name, mikros?
The warm, familiar voice slipped through the darkness, slithering and curling into my thoughts, a voice that sounded like home—like warm meals and tender embraces.
My name?
Yes, your name. Can you give it to us?
My name is Ly?—
