Page 64 of Branded By Shadow
I slid my hand from his face, down his neck, feeling the frantic hammering of his pulse. The emptiness Helena had carved inside me ached with the ghost of his absence. But now, it was a pain I could accept.
“I thought… I thought I’d lost you. The bond… it went silent. You were gone.”
His arms tightened around me, a cage of bruised muscle and bone that promised safety. “I’ve got you. I’m here. You pulled me back.”
That was it. The last thread of my control frayed and snapped. My body convulsed with a sob that tore from a place so deep inside me I didn’t recognize it. He just held me and let me cry, slowly petting my hair. And he didn't let me go, not until the only thing left was the steady, grounding beat of his heart.
His hands slid up to cup my face. The drying tears on my cheeks turned cold against the heat of his palms. He tilted my chin up, and his absolute focus made my chest tighten.
The primal instinct that had burned in his eyes before was gone, replaced by a profound clarity. He leaned in, and I met him halfway.
The kiss held no tenderness. It was a desperate collision, a frantic attempt to confirm that we were both still here, still alive. But as we clung to each other on the cold stone floor, the edge of that desperation began to change. It softened into an undeniable question of need.
I was the one to pull back. The sudden absence of his mouth on mine created an ache, a void that demanded to be filled. I rested my forehead against his, the unsteady sound of my own breath loud in the silence. The low, predatory hum of the chamber’s magic seemed to fill the space between us.
He shifted his weight, the friction against the stone sounding like a low growl. “Cora... the bond is gone. We don’t have to do this.”
A beat of silence stretched between us. My gaze darted to the glowing symbols on the wall, a flicker of fear tightening my chest. I pulled back slightly, a subconscious reaction to the devouring energy of the place.
He adjusted his body, creating a physical barrier against the room’s malevolence. “It won’t touch you. I’m here. Nothing in this room will ever hurt you again. I swear it.”
I looked back at him, my fear replaced by a new, fierce resolve. I was choosing him, in defiance of this room, in defiance of everything. “Then prove it.”
“Tell me what you want.” The words were a low, guttural rumble in his chest, a sound of pure, possessive relief. “Tell me, and it’s yours.”
“Damon… I want everything.”
His mouth found mine again, the earlier desperation replaced by a shared, deliberate hunger. I tugged at the torn fabric of his shirt, needing the barrier gone, needing the feel of his skin against mine.
He helped me strip it away, his fingers fumbling with the buttons, his gaze never leaving my face. The cool air of the chamber raised goosebumps on my arms as I pushed the ruined fabric from his shoulders.
I ran my hands over the broad expanse of his chest, tracing old scars and new bruises with gentle fingers. He was beautifully, painfully present, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
He reached for the hem of my own clothes, his fingers skimming the bare skin of my waist with a careful, almost hesitant touch. I helped him, my own need making me clumsy as we cast aside the last remaining barriers between us.
He then pushed his pants down in slow, cautious movements. His breath was unsteady, as though he was afraid a single wrong motion would break whatever fragile thing we’d rebuilt between us.
As he laid me back on the ancient stone, the platform vibrated with a deep, jarring energy. A shiver that had nothing to do with the air ran through me. “The stone is so cold.”
He settled his body between my thighs, his warmth a welcome counterpoint to the chill. “Then let me make you warm.”
His searing heat formed a shield against the chamber’s chill. His eyes held mine, and in their dark depths, I saw an offering. A choice, freely given, and now freely made, in the heart of enemy territory.
He moved with a slow, measured care, his hot, impossibly hard cock pressing against my entrance. The blunt head nudged at my slick heat, and I reached down, my own hand covering his, guiding him inside.
The first press of him filling me was exquisite. It was a slow, conscious joining, an act of two souls choosing to merge after being torn apart. The phantom pain of the severed bond was finally soothed, the emptiness flooding with a warmth that was both physical and something more.
“Damon,” I croaked out brokenly as he pushed deeper inside me.
“I’m with you,” he replied. “Just us.”
The Shadow Chamber became irrelevant. In fact, it was as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. We moved together, a rhythm that was an exploration, a question, an affirmation.
Pleasure coiled inside me, a slow, inexorable tightening that promised to shatter me. The sensation felt sharp and clean, untainted by the fever of biology or the terror of compulsion. It belonged to us. When his hand slipped between our bodies to find my clit, a cry escaped my lips. The world began to dissolve into pure, white-hot bliss.
I followed the building wave, my hips moving faster now, my own control beginning to fray. At the very peak, as my body coiled tight, he moved his mouth to my throat. His lips pressed against my neck, where my old mark had been. His voice came out as a rough, desperate plea, a question and a vow all at once.
His lips moved against my skin, the words a rough vibration as his own release drew close. “I want to choose you. Not because I have to. Because I want to. Let me.”
