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“More,” she gasped against my lips. “Harder, Zehn. I need more.”

The request shattered what remained of my restraint. I growled low in my throat and increased my pace, driving into her with enough force to push her slightly across the ground with each thrust. She met me eagerly, her hips rising to meet mine, taking me deeper, urging me on with breathless cries.

I shifted our position, lifting her legs to wrap around my waist, changing the angle to hit that spot inside her that would bring her the most pleasure. When I found it, her reaction was immediate—a sharp cry, her nails digging crescents into my arms, her inner walls clenching around me in a preview of her coming release.

“That’s it,” I urged, my voice a guttural rasp. “Take your pleasure, mate. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Her second climax built more slowly than the first, a gradual tightening, a mounting tension I could feel in the way her body gripped mine. I maintained my pace, hitting that spot inside her with relentless precision, watching her face as pleasure overtook her.

When it crashed over her, it was with such intensity that she screamed my name, her entire body convulsing around me. I fought back my own release, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her before I allowed myself the same.

Without giving her time to recover, I flipped her over, guiding her to her hands and knees. This position made me growl with satisfaction. I mounted her from behind, one hand gripping her hip, the other braced beside her on the ground as I drove into her with renewed vigor.

The sounds of our coupling filled the dream-space—the slap of flesh against flesh, her breathless moans, my deeper growls, the wet sounds of my cock sliding in and out of her slick heat. It was raw, animalistic, perfect.

I leaned over her, my chest pressed to her back, my mouth at her ear. “Mine,” I growled. “Say it, Everly. Tell me you’re mine.”

“Yours,” she gasped, the word breaking on a moan as I hit particularly deep. “I’m yours, Zehn. Only yours.”

The admission, dream-given though it might be, pushed me closer to the edge. But I wasn’t finished with her yet. I wanted her utterly spent, so satisfied she’d never consider another.

I reached around to where our bodies joined, finding her clit with practiced fingers. I circled it in time with my thrusts, feeling her begin to shake beneath me almost immediately.

“Again,” I demanded. “Come for me again, mate.”

Her third climax ripped through her with such force that her arms gave out, leaving her upper body pressed to the ground while her hips remained elevated, impaled on my cock. The position drove me even deeper, and the tight clench of her inner walls as she came was finally too much to resist.

With a roar that would have frightened her had we been in the waking world, I emptied myself inside her, my release so intense that for a moment, the dream itself seemed to waveraround us. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me as I filled her, marked her in the most primitive way.

In the unity dream, there was no knot yet—that would come only with her conscious acceptance of our bond in the waking world. But the potential for it throbbed at the base of my cock, a promise of what could be if she chose to accept me.

When the last spasm of pleasure had subsided, I gathered her gently in my arms, rolling us to our sides with my cock still buried inside her. I wanted to stay connected to her as long as possible, to savor this moment of perfect unity before the waking world reclaimed us.

I nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent, now mixed with my own. The claiming of scents—not as complete as it would be with a mating bite, but a start. A promise.

“I am yours,” I murmured against her skin, the words coming unbidden but true. “Whether you choose to claim me or not, I am utterly yours, Everly. I will never force you to accept our bond. The choice must be yours.”

She turned in my arms, just enough to look at me over her shoulder. In her eyes, I saw a softness, a tenderness that made my heart ache.

“What if I’m afraid?” she whispered.

“Fear is natural,” I told her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “What we have—what we could have—it’s bigger than either of us expected. But know this: I would rather die than cause you pain. If you need time, I will give you time. If you need space, I will give you space, though it would tear me apart to be separated from you.”

She was quiet for a long moment, just looking at me. Then she reached up to touch my face, her small hand gentle against my cheek.

“I feel it too,” she admitted softly. “This pull toward you. It terrifies me how strong it is.”

Hope flared in my chest, bright and painful. “Then don’t fight it,” I urged. “Let me show you how good it can be. Let me?—”

The dream began to dissolve around us, reality intruding as it always must. The last thing I saw was her face, thoughtful and tender, before darkness claimed me.

I woke with Everly still cradled against me, her body warm and real in my arms. Outside our shelter, the first hint of dawn lightened the sky. Soon Khaaz would return from his watch, and we would need to move on, continue our journey to safety.

But for now, I simply held her, committing every detail of her sleeping form to memory. Whatever happened next—whether she accepted our bond or denied it—this moment was mine to treasure. She was mine to protect, to care for, to worship if she would allow it.

And if she chose to reject me, to walk away from what the universe had decreed? I would accept it. I would bear the deliria amoranta, would embrace the madness and the inevitable death that followed, because I had glimpsed perfection in her arms. Had tasted completion in her acceptance, however temporary.

Some things were worth dying for. Everly Flores was one of them.

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