Page 45 of His Darkest Devotion

Her hand shifts, tangling with mine. “Fear can guide us or paralyze us,” she whispers, eyes shimmering with empathy. “I’m afraid too—of the prophecy, of the Red Purnas, of losing myself to forced obligations. But if we let terror dictate every choice, we’ve already surrendered.”

Our fingers lace together, a hesitant yet powerful gesture. The warmth of her hand feels like an anchor in a raging storm. My gargoyle side still churns in my veins, but I sense it as something that can be tempered, not necessarily unleashed in brutality. Maybe she’s right.Maybe I can be more than a tool.

She inches closer, the soft rustle of fabric echoing in the hush. “We only have one night to breathe before we face everything again,” she murmurs, her breath warm against my jaw. “Stay with me, just for these hours, while the world holds its breath. Let’s gather strength from each other.”

Tears prick my eyes. I nod, my throat too tight for words. My arm slides around her shoulders, drawing her against my chest, and she comes willingly, her body molding to mine. Her hair brushes beneath my chin, that maddening floral scent wrapping around me like a spell. My heart hammers—part fear, part need, all of it raw.

“Alright,” I rasp. “I’ll try. To be… present. Not hide behind my shame.”

Her fingers trace the line of my collarbone, featherlight, before she lifts her face. Lips parted, eyes dark with unspoken hunger. When our mouths meet this time, there’s no hesitation. Just heat. Her tongue slides against mine, slow and deliberate, and a groan tears from my throat. I pull her tighter, one hand fisting in the fabric at her back, the other cupping the nape of her neck.

She shifts, straddling my thighs, and the sudden press of her weight against my cock makes me hiss. Her hips roll, deliberate, and I swear my vision whites out for a second. “Elira?—”

“I know,” she whispers, dragging her mouth along my stubbled jaw. “I feel it too.” Her hands push under my tunic, palms scorching against my skin. “Let me see you. All of you.”

I help her peel the fabric away, the cool cavern air a shock against my fevered flesh. Her gaze rakes over me—the scars, the tension in my muscles, the way my cock strains against my trousers. Her fingers follow, tracing every ridge and mark, as if memorizing me. When she leans down to lick a stripe up my chest, I nearly come undone.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs, and the words land like a blow. No one’s ever called me that. Not like this.

My hands find the ties of her tunic, trembling. “Can I?—?”

“Yes.”

Fabric falls away, revealing the smooth expanse of her shoulders, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breasts. I map her with my mouth, nipping at the pulse in her throat, sucking a bruise just above her collarbone. She gasps when my teeth graze her nipple, her back arching. “Vaelin?—”

I silence her with a kiss, my hand sliding down her stomach, lower, until my fingers brush the damp heat between her thighs. She’s slick, aching, and the sound she makes when I stroke her pussy is fucking devastating. I do it again, slower, watching her face as she unravels.

“Inside,” she demands, rocking against my hand. “Now.”

I don’t need telling twice. My fingers fumble with the laces of my trousers, desperation making me clumsy, but the moment I free myself, her hands are there—steady, sure. Elira rises onto her knees, her body a silhouette of curves and strength in the flickering glow of her illusions. The sight of her like this, bare and unguarded, steals my breath. Gods, she’s beautiful.

Her thighs bracket mine, and she guides me to her entrance with a slow, deliberate press. The first push is exquisite—a searing heat, tight and wet and perfect. A groan tears from my throat as she sinks down, taking me to the hilt in one fluid motion. Her body clenches around me like a vise, and for a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Just breathing. Just feeling.

Her lips part on a shattered moan, her head tipping back, exposing the delicate column of her throat. I can’t resist leaning forward to drag my mouth along it, tasting salt and the faintest hint of lavender from her skin. “Elira,” I rasp, my voice rough with need. “Look into my eyes.”

Her lashes flutter open, revealing eyes dark with desire. The way she watches me—like I’m something worth savoring, not a monster—sends a fresh wave of heat through my veins.

“Vaelin… oh…” she gasps, opening her mouth a fraction. Then she rolls her hips, and I lose all sense of restraint.

“Yes,” I groan, feeling her softness against my body.

My hands grip her waist, fingers digging into the softness there, helping her ride me with slow, deliberate strokes. Each thrust goes deeper than the last, each one drawing another broken sound from her lips. Her nails bite into my shoulders, her breath coming in ragged bursts as her pace quickens. The cavern echoes with the sounds of our coupling—skin slapping, moans bouncing off stone, my name on her lips like a prayer.

“Vaelin—ah—please—” Her voice is a wrecked whisper, and it undoes me.

I’ve wanted her since the first moment I saw her—since she stood in front of me, defiance in her gaze and power crackling at her fingertips. I denied it, but can’t stop myself. Even then, dishiveled and probably half-starved, she was the most radiant thing I’d ever seen. Now, with her body arching above me, her breasts flushed and heaving, I worship her with every touch. My hands slide up her ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, and she gasps.

“You’re stunning,” I growl, dragging my palms over her nipples, relishing the way they pebble under my touch. “Every inch of you.”

She shudders, her rhythm faltering, and I take over, lifting her slightly before pulling her back down onto me with a snap of my hips. Her cry is loud enough to stir the shadows, and I swallow it with a kiss, our teeth clashing in our haste.

“Vaelin!”

I can feel her tightening around me, her cunt fluttering like she’s already close. Needing to see her come apart, I snake a hand between us, finding her clit with practiced fingers. The moment I circle it, her whole body jerks. “Yes—right there?—”

Her pleasure is a living thing, pulsing through her, through me. I watch, mesmerized, as her face contorts in ecstasy, her lips parting around a silent scream before her voice returns in a cry. Her body bows, her inner walls clamping down on me like a fist, and the sight of her unraveling drags me under.

I come inside her with a groan, my forehead dropping to her shoulder as waves of pleasure crash over me. For a moment, there’s nothing but the feel of her, the scent of her sweat and arousal, the sound of our ragged breaths mingling in the air.

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