“Maybe.” His voice comes from somewhere behind me now, closer than before. “But you’re not running yet.”
A thrill shoots through me. The bond flares, reacting to my excitement, but I clamp it down. I don’t need it to feel what’s happening between us.
Because this isn’t about old fated magic.
This is about him and me.
“I thought you wanted a date,” I say, slipping between two mausoleums, dragging my fingers over the damp stone. “Is this how you usually court your women? Hide in graveyards and breathe on their necks?”
A low chuckle rumbles through the air. “Only the ones who like the thrill.”
Goddess, help me, I do.
So, I do what any damsel pretending to be in distress would do and run from the monster stalking me through the dark.
My laughter bubbles out unbidden as I dash across the gravel path, darting past statues with outstretched wings and angels wearing cracked faces.
It’s pure and primal instinct.
And only seconds later, my monster man gives chase.
His footsteps are quieter than mine. They’re more precise, more deliberate in their placement, like a predator does when choosing to pounce. The space between us shrinks, even as I weave and duck and slip around marble gravestones. My lungs burn, but not even that stops me from smiling so hard it hurts.
It’s nice to smile after everything.
He lets me get close to the old mausoleum at the far edge of the cemetery before I feel him.
There’s a rush of wind and a growl from behind me before a thick arm wraps around my waist and spins me into his chest. My back slams into cold stone, and Konstantin presses against me. He’s all muscle, heat, and barely leashed restraint. His palm flattens just under my ribs, anchoring me in place.
Not that I’m going anywhere. Hell no. I’d be a bloody fool.
We’re both breathing hard, our chests rising and falling in sync.
The moment crackles, electricity dancing in the air around us.
It should feel like too much. It’s too fast, too dangerous.
But Konstantin looks at me like he’s been starving for me. Like fate done him an honor in choosing me as his bonded.
His mouth crashes into mine, and I gasp into the kiss. It’s not careful or soft. It’s the kind of kiss that devours. It’s one that saysminein every drag of his teeth and press of his tongue. My hands fist into his shirt, and I arch into him like I’ve forgotten how to be afraid. Like I’m not scared of the bond, or the blood on his hands, or the way my name sounds like a prayer when it tumbles out of his mouth.
His hands roam, rough and reverent at once as they slide up my thighs and over the lace of my dress to grip my hips.
“Tell me to stop,” he growls against my mouth.
And miss having our first shag against the wall of a mausoleum in a long-forgotten cemetery? Fuck no.
“Keep going.”
That’s all it takes.
He lifts my other leg to wrap around him, my breath stuttering as he pins me against the stones. The bond flares again. Not invasive this time, just amplifying everything. I can feel how badly he wants me. Not just in his hands, either, but in his soul.
It’s more than lust.
It’s hunger and possession and worship.
His hand slides beneath my dress, finding skin, and my head tips back as his mouth moves to my throat. “You smell like sin,” he rasps, dragging his teeth along my pulse. “And your skin tastes like fucking heaven.”
