He was still naked; the need to have his skin touch mine had me pulling my shirt over my head in an impatient rush. I made out Xyrek's sculpted body in the low light, revealing expanses of gleaming silver skin stretched over rock-hard muscle. My hands explored the chiseled planes of his chest and abs with wonder, marveling at his alien perfection.
"You're so beautiful," I whispered, awed. It wasn't just how perfect he was; I felt things while touching him—things I didn't have a name for. I caressed his body, trying to convey my feelings for him.
Our eyes met, and in the depths of his obsidian orbs, I saw the same powerful emotions churning through him—desire, longing, confusion, recognition. As if in a trance, I leaned in and brushed my lips against his in the gentlest caress, feeling our connection's static charge. Xyrek cupped my face as he deepened the kiss. His tongue delved into my mouth to claim me thoroughly. I moaned and pressed myself fully against him, skin to skin, curves to hard planes. It felt so right, so perfect, like coming home after being lost for an eternity.
My hands mapped the sculpted expanse of his back as he settled between my thighs, the hard evidence of his arousal nestled against my aching core.
"I need you," Xyrek rasped, his voice rough with desire. "I've never needed anyone like this."
I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him closer, craving the intimate connection.
"Then take me," I breathed against his lips. "I'm yours."
With a deep groan, Xyrek surged forward, sheathing himself fully inside me in one powerful thrust. I cried out at the exquisite sensation of him filling and stretching me. It was more than just physical pleasure—it was a sense of completeness, of two halves becoming whole. It was like finding a warm spot in the middle of a raging snowstorm, like standing in the eye of the storm, like gasping for air after being pulled from deep water, like waking from a fever dream to find the world sharper, clearer, more real than it had ever been.
A shudder tore through me as Xyrek held still for a moment, buried deep, his forehead pressed against mine, his hot breath caressing my skin. His grip on my hips was firm and grounding, like he was afraid I’d slip through his fingers.
Then he moved.
A slow, deliberate pull followed by a deep, claiming thrust that sent pleasure rolling through me like a shock to the system, a jolt of raw sensation I could feel in my bones. I gasped, my fingers clawing at his shoulders, my body desperate for more, for all of him.
"Frygg," he growled against my throat, voice hoarse, almost wrecked. "You feel—" He cut himself off with a rough, unsteady breath; his next thrust came harder, deeper, making me cry out. I moaned, arching against him, my legs tightening around his waist. I needed more. I needed him.
"More," I gasped as my heels dug into his back, pulling him impossibly closer.
His fingers tightened around my thighs, and his rhythm shifted—rougher, more urgent, more demanding. Each thrust sent pleasure rippling outward, unraveling everything I thought I knew about need, about connection, about what it meant to belong to someone.
It wasn’t just sex.
It wasn’t just a claiming.
It was a return, a reawakening, a collision of two halves that had been searching for each other through space and time.
I met his gaze, saw the same wild hunger, the same helpless surrender in the depths of his black, endless eyes.
I was his.
And God help me…
He was mine.
My nails raked down his back as our hips met in a primal rhythm, our breaths mingled with soft moans and whispered words. Xyrek's thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding, as if he were trying to merge our very souls through the joining of our bodies. I matched his desperate passion, rising to meet each powerful stroke. Our mouths fused together in a searing kiss, tongues tangling and exploring, tasting and claiming.
Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my core with each deep plunge of his thick length. I could feel myself unraveling, spiraling closer to the edge of ecstasy. Xyrek's hand slipped between our writhing bodies to stroke my swollen clit; his skillful touch sent me careening over the edge.
"Xyrek!" I cried out as rapture crashed over me, my inner walls clenched around him in pulsing waves.
With a guttural groan, he surrendered to his own release as his cock throbbed deep inside me.
It hit me all at once, like a dam breaking, like a tide rushing in too fast to fight. I loved him. More than I should, more than I ever thought possible. It wasn’t just lust, wasn’t just the pull of the mating marks—it was him—his strength, his arrogance, his sharp edges that somehow fit perfectly against mine.
There was no running from it, no rationalizing it away. I had fallen, and there was no ground beneath me—only him, catching me, holding me, anchoring me in a way I never knew I needed.
XYREK
Alice slept beside me;her breaths were slow and steady, and her body was tucked against mine as if she belonged there. And she did. I had no doubts about that anymore. Not after what I remembered. Not after the name Allisaahn had torn itself from my lips like a prayer, a plea, a curse. The memories had returned like a flood—too much, too fast, overwhelming me with their intensity. For so long, I had been certain I had no past before the Ohrurs, that my life had begun when they took me in, trained me, shaped me into a weapon.
Had that been a lie, too? Did I have a life before? A mate? Was I a reincarnation of the Xyrek of my memories? Or was I a clone,givenhis memories?
