Page 141 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“You like that, don’t you?” I growl, adjusting my angle, feeling her body tighten around me as I find that spot deep inside her. “You like when I fuck you like this. Hard, like you deserve.”
Her answer is a broken moan, her head falling back, exposing her jaw. I bury my face in her neck as I pound into her, each thrust deliberate, each one designed to make her feel every inch of me.
“Oh, Goddess!” A plea on her lips, and it sends a surge of animal satisfaction through me. I grip her hips harder, lifting her slightly to meet each thrust, driving deeper, deeper, deeper.
“Again,” I command, my voice rough with need. “I want to feel you come around me this time.”
Her body obeys, her muscles clenching tight as another climax tears through her. The raw sound she makes nearly undoes me. But I hold on, my control fraying as I chase my own release.
“Mine,” I growl, my thrusts growing erratic as pleasure coils tight in my gut. “You’re mine, Rhealyn.”
And then I’m lost, my release crashing over me like a storm. I bury myself deep, my body shuddering as I spill inside her, her name a prayer on my lips. For this moment, nothing else exists. No war, no duty, no secrets.
Just her. Just us. Just this.
I hold Rhealyn against me, her breath warm on my neck, her heart thundering against skin. Sweat cools on our skin in the night air filtering through the window. My fingers traceidle patterns on her bare back, following the curve of her spine. For this moment, we exist in perfect stillness.
Her voice breaks the silence, so soft I almost miss it.
“Vaylen.”
“Hmm.”
“I… I love you.”
The words strike me like lightning—unexpected, powerful, illuminating everything in a blinding flash. I pull back just enough to see her face, wondering if I conjured the confession from my own desperate wanting.
But there she is, looking up at me with those ferocious hazel eyes, vulnerability written across her features. The admission clearly cost her dearly, Rhealyn, who guards her heart more fiercely than any.
“What did you say?” I ask, needing to hear it again, to know I haven’t imagined it.
Her features pinch, that familiar defiance rising. “Don’t make me repeat it, Stormsong.”
A laugh escapes me—part joy, part relief so profound it leaves me lightheaded. “You love me.”
“Is that so difficult to believe?” A flush spreads across her cheeks, and she attempts to push away, embarrassed.
I hold her in place, refusing to let her retreat. “Yes.” I cup her face between my palms. “Because you fight it with every breath.”
The knowledge sinks into my bones, warming me from within. I’m not alone in this madness. The woman who trusts no one, who has spent a lifetime building barricades to keep others out, has let me behind her defenses.
“I feared…” I stop, suddenly reluctant to speak his name in this sacred moment.
“What?” she prompts.
“Tahranis.” The name tastes foul, like poison and hatred. “This phantom who lingers in your mind. I feared that perhaps...”
“That I belonged to him?” Her eyes flash. “I belong to no one.”
“Except Zephyros?” I suggest with a smile.
“Except Zephyros,” she agrees.
I press my forehead to hers. “And now, perhaps, to me. A little. As I belong to you.”
This jealous fear that haunts me—that she might be taken from me again, that the stranger she dreamed of might claim her—it doesn’t vanish, but it retreats. Love is no small thing. It is armor against uncertainty, a sword against my suspicion.
“I love you too, Rhealyn. Now and always.”
