Page 43 of Panther in the Shadows
"Harder." The word tears from me. "I won't break."
A growl tears from his throat. Purely animal. Then both hands grip my hips. Lifting me slightly. Changing the angle. The next thrust hits something inside me that makes me see stars.
"There?" He does it again. "That the spot?"
"Yes. Right there. Don't stop."
He doesn't. Just keeps hitting that perfect angle with perfect precision. Building pressure until I'm climbing toward a second orgasm. This one deeper. More intense.
My magic rises with it. Water condensing on every surface. The mist growing thicker. Salt spray coating our skin.
"Come for me." His voice rasps in my ear. "I want to see and feel you fall apart."
His thumb finds my clit. Circles. Presses.
I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me with enough force that my magic explodes outward. Water streams from nowhere. Swirls around us like a living thing. The windows ice over from the temperature drop.
Through it all, Rafe keeps moving. Chasing his own release. Then he's there. Groaning my name. Body going rigid as he comes.
We stay frozen like that. Both trembling. Both breathing hard. My magic gradually settles, the water dissipating into mist.
He pulls out carefully, gathering me against his chest. Carrying me to the leather couch against the wall.
We collapse together. Tangled limbs and racing hearts. His hand strokes my hair. My palm rests over his heart.
"Well." He sounds wrecked. "That was?—"
"Intense."
"Was going to say life-changing, but intense works too."
Laughter bubbles up. For the first time since seeing Elspeth's corpse in the water. "Your office is going to smell like ocean for days."
"Worth it." He presses a kiss to my temple. "Completely worth it."
We lie in comfortable silence. The adrenaline fading. Reality creeping back in. But I'm not ready for reality yet. Not ready to think about necromancers and dead sisters and impossible rituals.
"Tell me something." My fingers trace patterns on his chest. "Something real. Something that matters."
He goes quiet for a long moment. Then: "The exile hurt worse than Diego's betrayal. Worse than Catalina's lies. Because my father looked at me and chose not to see the truth. Chose to believe I was the monster she painted me to be."
My throat tightens. Breath catches.
"I built this empire because I had nothing else," he continues. "No family. No home. No one who cared whether I lived or died. So I made myself valuable through fear and money and connections. Made myself into exactly what they accused me of being."
"You're not a monster." The words push past the ache in my chest. "You're someone who survived impossible situations. Who protected me tonight even though you barely know me. Who's risking everything to stop a necromancer from completing a ritual."
"And what does that make you?" His hand cups my face. "You've been hiding for ten years. Running from your power. Pretending to be less than you are."
The accusation stings because it's true.
"I was scared." My voice breaks. "Gran died and all that power hit me at once. Drowning in currents I couldn't control. So I hid. Served drinks and smiled and pretended my gift didn't exist. For ten years."
"You were grieving." His hand cups my face. "You lost your grandmother. The woman who raised you after your father and Elspeth drowned. Of course you retreated."
"But maybe if I hadn't hidden. If I'd been the sea witch I was supposed to be, I would have felt it. Sensed something wrong in the waters." The guilt crushes down. "Instead I was serving pints and pretending to be normal while someone tortured my sister's spirit."
