Her honesty humbles me. Despite everything she stands to lose, she faces our situation with clear-eyed courage.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” I tell her.
A small smile touches her lips. “Technically, you’ve never met anyone like you, either. That’s rather the point of a fated mate.”
The scientific precision of her humor catches me off guard, and I laugh—a rare, genuine sound that surprises us both. Elena’s smile widens in response, her reserved façade momentarily dropping to reveal the woman beneath.
In that moment, something shifts between us. The careful distance we’ve maintained through weeks of meetings suddenly seems absurd, unnecessary. I reach out, slowly enough that she could move away if she wished, and touch her cheek with my fingertips.
Her skin warms under my touch, and the silver-blue glow returns to her hands, responding to the lightning that sparks unconsciously between my fingers. Neither of us pulls away.
“This is dangerous,” she whispers, but she leans into my touch.
“Everything about us is dangerous,” I reply. “Has been from the beginning.”
The air between us is charged with unspoken tension, with weeks of restraint reaching breaking point. I lean forward, giving her every opportunity to retreat, to maintain the boundaries we’ve established. Instead, she meets me halfway.
Our lips touch, and the world transforms. Lightning races through my veins, not just metaphorically but physically—visible currents of blue-white energy spiraling around us both. Elena gasps against my mouth as her own power flares in response, her hands glowing bright enough to illuminate the entire clearing.
The kiss deepens, months of suppressed longing breaking through carefully constructed walls. Her hands slide into my hair, mine circle her waist, pulling her closer. The mate bond between us pulses with newfound strength, flooding my senses with her presence—her scent, her warmth, the rapid beating of her heart.
Elena pulls back slightly, her breath coming quick and uneven. “Your eyes,” she murmurs. “They’re glowing.”
“So are yours,” I tell her, watching golden flecks materialize in her brown irises—a physical manifestation of our strengthening bond.
She touches my face with glowing fingers, tracing the lines of my jaw with scientific curiosity and undisguised wonder. “The energy transfer is bidirectional,” she observes, somehow managing to sound clinical despite her flushed cheeks and quickened breath. “My storm-touch responding to your innate magic, creating a feedback loop.”
Even now, she analyzes, categorizes, and seeks understanding. It shouldn’t be endearing, but somehow it is—this essential core of who she is, unchanged even in extraordinary circumstances.
I kiss her again, harder this time, feeling her scientific detachment dissolve into something more primal. Her body presses against mine, her hands sliding beneath my tunic to trace the muscles of my back. Each touch leaves trails of silver-blue light on my skin, an intoxicating sensation unlike anything I’ve experienced.
My own control frays as the mate bond urges us toward completion. I lower her carefully to the forest floor, my lipsfinding the sensitive spot below her ear, tracing the curve of her neck. She arches beneath me, her breath catching as my hands explore the unfamiliar terrain of her body, learning what makes her gasp, what draws soft sounds from her throat.
Our clothing becomes an unwelcome barrier. Elena tugs at my tunic, and I pull it over my head, then help her remove her own. The cool night air against heated skin sends a shiver through us both. Her hands trace the scars that map my history across my chest and arms—battle wounds, ritual marks, the physical legacy of a life lived in service to my clan.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispers, scientific objectivity temporarily abandoned in favor of simple truth.
I want to tell her she’s beautiful too, but the words catch in my throat. Instead, I show her, my hands and lips conveying what my voice cannot. The storm builds around us, real and magical intertwining—distant thunder echoing the pounding of our hearts, lightning illuminating skin bared to night air.
Her hands glow brighter as they move across my body, leaving trails of healing warmth wherever they touch. My own storm magic responds, harmless lightning dancing across her skin, drawing gasps of pleasure.
My lips leave a trail of fire down her throat, across the swell of her breasts. I take one nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue until she cries out. Her back arches, pressing herself into me, and the taste of her sends a surge of power through me. My hand drifts between her thighs, fingers brushing the slick heat there. She gasps, hips lifting to meet my touch. When I slide a finger inside her, she tightens around me, a soft moan escaping her lips. I explore her slowly, feeling the way her body responds to every circle and thrust.
Unable to resist, I shift lower, the scent of her arousal intoxicating. I kiss my way down her stomach and between her legs, tasting the sweetest magic I’ve ever encountered.My tongue moves against her in deliberate strokes, eliciting breathless pleas that only spur me on. Her hands tangle in my hair, and she trembles under the onslaught of pleasure. When her climax hits, she shudders, light flaring from her hands as she cries out my name, and I savor every pulse of her release.
The sight of her undone drives me nearly mad with need. I settle between her thighs, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance. We lock eyes, both of us understanding this is not just an act of desire but of union. Slowly, I push into her, feeling her warmth envelop me inch by agonizing inch. Our magic entwines as intimately as our bodies, lightning dancing across our skin, healing energy flowing between us. I rock my hips, each thrust deeper than the last, drawing sounds from her I will never forget. We move together in a rhythm as old as the storm itself, the mate bond urging us to surrender completely.
We are learning each other in this most primal way, discovering how our bodies fit together, how our powers complement and enhance. The mate bond thrums between us, urging completion, connection, consummation.
Then, in the moment of deepest intimacy, when the boundaries between us seem thinnest, something changes. A sharp crack of thunder directly overhead breaks the spell. Simultaneously, a warning cry echoes through the forest—the distinctive call of a Storm Eagle scout on patrol.
We freeze, the danger of our situation crashing back with brutal clarity. I recognize the call pattern—Viktor’s elite guard, conducting an expanded patrol route that shouldn’t include this area. He must have changed the rotation without informing me.
“We need to go,” I whisper, already reaching for my discarded clothing. “That’s a patrol. If they find us?—”
“I understand.” Elena moves with impressive speed, dressing and carefully gathering her equipment. The scientific instruments disappear into her pack, and the lantern isextinguished. Within moments, the clearing shows no evidence of our presence except for the slightly flattened grass where we lay.
“How close are they?” she asks, her voice steady despite the situation.
