The bed creaked softly as Taryn sat on its edge, fingers toying absently with the hem of her shirt. The morning light filtered weakly through the curtains, casting soft gold across the worn floorboards. But even in the warmth of the room, Taryn felt restless, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on her chest.

She should have moved hours ago. Should have pulled herself free of Lucien's heat, disentangled herself from the warmth of his body. But every time she tried, the bond thrummed quietly between them—a gentle hum in her blood that made leaving feel impossible. His presence wrapped around her, a quiet pull, like the ghost of an embrace lingering just beneath her skin.

The mattress dipped as Lucien stirred behind her, and before she could slip away, his arm curled more firmly around her waist, his hand spreading warm and solid over her ribs. The sensation grounded her—solid, warm, and dangerously intimate. His presence poured through the bond, steady and unyielding, wrapping around her like a promise she hadn't asked for but couldn't resist.

"Where do you think you're going?" Lucien murmured, his voice a sleepy rasp, rough at the edges but threaded with affection. His breath ghosted over the back of her neck, sending a shiver skating down her spine, magnified through the bond until she felt it everywhere.

Taryn's heart skipped. "I wasn't—"

"Yes, you were." His hand shifted lower, fingers brushing her side in lazy, deliberate patterns that made it hard to think. "Always thinking. Always running."

The bond stirred with a flicker of fear—quick, almost hidden—but enough to make Taryn's breath catch. It was subtle, like the whisper of a shadow slipping beneath a door, but it was there, undeniable. Lucien masked it well—his touch steady, his breath warm and deliberate—but through the bond, the emotion lingered, sharp and jagged, like the edge of a blade pressed too close to her skin.

Lucien's fear was quiet, steady—a thread of uncertainty tangled with the raw, reckless need that always simmered beneath the surface when he looked at her. It wasn't desperation, not exactly. It was fiercer than that. A fear sharpened by the knowledge that he'd found something worth keeping, something he could never replace, and the terrifying realization that she might slip away all the same.

For a moment, the fear was his and hers all at once—a shared thread woven into the current that pulsed between them. It wasn't just fear—it was something raw, elemental. The fear of losing her, of being cast back into the cold emptiness where he had lived for so long. It lanced through her with startling clarity, and for a fleeting second, Taryn could feel the weight of it as if it were her own: the gnawing dread of watching something precious slip through his fingers, the ache of an absence so profound it left scars on the soul.

Her heart stuttered painfully in her chest, the bond twisting tight around that single moment—an unspoken plea wrapped in hunger and vulnerability. He would never say it aloud; she knew that much. He would hide it behind every sly grin, every cocky remark, every lazy touch that suggested nothing mattered at all. But beneath it all, in the quiet places where the bond ran deep, the truth hummed like a low, mournful chord.

He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not after everything.

Taryn's throat tightened, and she fought against the urge to reach for him—to press her palm against his chest and feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her hand, just to prove to herself that he was here, that they both were.

But she didn't need to touch him. Through the bond, she already knew.

The fear didn't last long—just a flicker, there and gone, like the lingering taste of bitterness after a sweet drink. Lucien pushed it down, buried it beneath layers of iron will and practiced ease, wrapping himself back in the familiar armor of nonchalance.

But Taryn felt it still, a phantom ache lingering beneath the surface of the bond, as if the edges of it had nicked her skin, leaving behind a wound that wouldn't quite close.

And despite everything—despite the walls she'd spent so long building—something inside her cracked. It was the fear beneath the bond that undid her—that sharp, unspoken plea not to leave him in the dark again. She knew it too well. It was the same fear that had kept her standing long after she should have crumbled—the fear of being alone with nothing but ghosts for company.

She knew in that moment she loved him more than she could find the words for.

As the thought slid through her mind, quiet but undeniable, panic rose in her chest. She had fought so hard to keep herself intact, to stay above water in a world that constantly pulled her under. But with him, there was only drowning—only the terrifying certainty that she didn't want to drown alone anymore.

His lips skimmed the nape of her neck—a touch so light it sent a ripple of heat through her chest, spreading outward in waves. The bond rippled in response, amplifying every sensation until it felt as if his touch traveled through every nerve in her body, setting her blood on fire.

"Lucien," she warned, her voice low and tight. But even to her own ears, it lacked conviction.

"Yes, warrior?" His thumb traced slow, maddening circles along her hip, and through the bond, she felt his satisfaction hum low and content, feeding off her frustration.

Taryn clenched her jaw. "We can't stay here. What if they already know what we've done?"

"Even if they do, let them come." he whispered, lips brushing the delicate shell of her ear. His hand slipped beneath her shirt, the pads of his fingers skimming bare skin, and the bond hummed with approval—desire laced with restraint, possession tangled with tenderness.

Taryn twisted, intending to push him away, but Lucien's hand slid to her jaw, cradling it gently, holding her steady with a quiet challenge in his touch.

"You don't have to do everything alone," he murmured, the bond between them pulsing with sincerity, thick and unguarded. His thumb brushed her cheek, and she felt the weight of his words settle deep in her chest. You're not alone, Taryn.

The truth of it hit like a punch, knocking the air from her lungs. Her pulse pounded hard against her ribs, tangled with the chaotic rush of emotions bleeding through the bond—fear, want, trust, and something dangerously close to surrender.

Lucien's breath ghosted over her skin. "Tell me to stop," he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, warm and unyielding. "And I will."

Taryn's hands fisted in the blankets beneath her, her knuckles white with tension. She knew she should tell him to stop. Knew what he wanted. Knew what it would mean.

But instead, she whispered, "I hate you."

Lucien's laugh was low and indulgent, a dark hum of amusement that vibrated through the bond, sending sparks racing through her veins. "Liar."

Before she could argue, his lips found hers—a slow, deliberate kiss that unraveled every defense she'd tried to rebuild. The bond flared between them, magnifying the sensation until it consumed her, dragging her under like a riptide.

Taryn gasped against his mouth, her hands tangling in the front of his shirt, dragging him closer. The bond surged, pulling tight as his emotions bled into hers—desire, affection, hunger—all of it swirling through her, relentless and intoxicating.

"Easy, warrior," Lucien whispered against her lips, his teeth grazing the curve of her jaw just enough to send a jolt of heat pooling low in her belly. "I've got you."

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The bond pulsed again, steady and reassuring, echoing the promise in his words. I've got you.

Taryn's breath hitched, her body arching instinctively into his touch as his hands slid beneath her shirt, mapping every inch of bare skin with deliberate care. The sensation was overwhelming—every stroke, every brush of his fingers amplified through the bond, feeding into her pleasure and his in a perfect, dizzying loop.

"Tell me to stop," Lucien whispered again, his voice rough with need. His thumb traced slow, maddening circles along her waist, the touch light but devastating. "Tell me you don't want this." He mumbled, giving her another chance to pull away.

Taryn shivered, her breath stuttering painfully in her chest. "I should."

Lucien's grin was slow and wicked, humming with satisfaction through the bond. "But you won't."

And he was right—damn him, he was right.

Taryn pulled him down into another kiss, this one harder, more desperate. Lucien's answering groan was a low, needy sound, and the feel of it against her skin made her whole body light up with heat.

Lucien's mouth left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, and Taryn's breath hitched, her back arching into the touch before she could stop herself. "You taste too good," he muttered, half to himself, his voice rough with hunger.

His hand slid lower, fingers skimming the waistband of her pants with deliberate slowness, giving her every chance to pull away.

But she didn't. She never would.

Taryn's breath stuttered as he hooked his fingers into the waistband, dragging her pants down her hips with agonizing slowness, his hands warm against her bare skin.

"We don't have to do this," she whispered, though her voice carried no weight, no conviction.

Lucien's smile curled slowly, wicked and knowing. "But you want me to." Her heart slammed against her ribs as he leaned in, his mouth brushing against her ear. "I can feel it."

The truth of his words burned through her, bright and undeniable, and before she could deny it—before she could even think—his hands slid down her thighs, spreading her open with maddening ease. Taryn gasped, heat coiling low and thick, pooling between her legs.

"Lucien…" Her voice was a whisper, a plea she didn't mean to let slip.

He stilled for a moment, his lips hovering over her skin, his breath hot and ragged. Then he kissed the inside of her thigh—a soft, deliberate kiss that made her toes curl.

Taryn's heart slammed against her ribs, and she clenched her fists in the sheets, trying to keep some semblance of control. But there was no controlling this—no controlling him.

"Relax, warrior," Lucien whispered, his voice low and commanding, the rasp of it vibrating through her. His thumb stroked slow circles against the inside of her thigh, a maddeningly gentle tease. "Let me taste you." He said against her lips, his voice a rough murmur of desire. "I've been waiting long enough."

The way he said it—soft and dangerous, like a promise—sent a shiver straight down her spine.

Her fingers curled in the sheets, her whole body tense with anticipation. The ache between her legs throbbed, hot and insistent, and she hated—hated—that she wanted this so badly.

Lucien's hands skimmed her thighs, firm and steady, holding her open like she belonged to him. And then, without another word, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to her.

The first stroke of his tongue dragged a sharp, involuntary gasp from her lips—hot and slow, precise and devastating. Taryn's back arched, her nails biting into the sheets as the pleasure hit her like a wave, sharp and undeniable. The bond between them pulsed in perfect sync, her pleasure feeding his, every flick of his tongue magnified tenfold.

Lucien groaned against her—a low, guttural sound of pure satisfaction—and the vibration of it sent sparks racing through her skin. He licked her slowly, deliberately, like he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second.

"Lucien—" Her voice broke on his name, a soft, desperate whisper, and his answering hum was sinful, vibrating through every nerve in her body.

His tongue stroked deeper, slower, teasing her in maddening patterns that made her hips buck, but his hands were there, firm and unyielding, holding her exactly where he wanted her. He was in complete control—and it was intoxicating.

"Easy," he murmured between strokes, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. "Let me have you."

The words wrapped around her like a promise, and Taryn's breath stuttered as another wave of pleasure surged through her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

Lucien growled softly—a low, possessive sound that sent heat spiraling through her—and then he sucked gently, his tongue swirling in perfect rhythm with the pulse of her pleasure. Her whole body clenched, teetering on the edge, the bond pulling tight like a live wire ready to snap.

When his fingers slid into her, thick and deliberate, Taryn's breath shattered into a broken moan. The sensation was overwhelming—his mouth, his fingers, the bond thrumming between them with every pulse of pleasure.

He curled his fingers inside her, hitting that perfect spot with ruthless precision, and her body arched off the bed, every muscle locking tight as the pleasure built higher, sharper.

"You're close," Lucien whispered against her, his voice dark and velvet-smooth, dripping with satisfaction. "I can feel it."

Taryn gasped, her heart pounding wildly, every nerve on fire as the tension coiled tighter, tighter—until it was too much.

"Cum for me, warrior," Lucien murmured, his lips brushing over her in a kiss that was both a command and a promise.

And she did—falling apart for him with a cry, the pleasure ripping through her in waves, sharp and endless. The bond between them flared bright and hot, every pulse of her climax crashing into his pleasure, feeding into each other until there was nothing but them.

Lucien didn't stop—he worked her through every aftershock, slow and relentless, until she was trembling, gasping for air, her whole body spent and sated. His fingers eased out of her with maddening care, and he kissed his way back up her body, soft and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch.

Taryn's breath was still ragged when his lips found hers again, the kiss deep and languid, pulling her under once more. He kissed her like he'd won some secret battle, like he'd known all along that this moment was inevitable.

And damn him—he had.

Taryn's breath stuttered as she felt him—hard, ready, pressing against her. Her heart pounded in her chest, the bond between them throbbing with desire and need that tangled with something deeper—something dangerously close to love.

Lucien's forehead pressed against hers, his breath warm and uneven. "I need you," he whispered, his voice rough and low.

Taryn's fingers curled into his back, dragging him closer, holding him steady. And for the first time, she didn't hesitate.

"I'm already yours," she whispered against his lips, her voice soft but certain.

Lucien groaned, the sound full of need and possession, and then he pressed into her, slow and deliberate, filling her completely. The bond exploded between them—heat and pleasure and raw emotion, tangling together in perfect sync.

They moved together, the rhythm slow and unrelenting, every thrust pulling them tighter, deeper, until it felt like they were no longer two people, but one.

"Look at me," Lucien whispered, his voice rough and low, his breath hot against her lips. Taryn's eyes locked with his, and the bond between them opened fully—no walls, no barriers. She could feel everything: his hunger, his need, his devotion—fierce and overwhelming.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, each thrust slow and deliberate, driving her higher, tighter, until she couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

Lucien's lips brushed along her ear, his voice a low, rasping whisper. "I've got you," he murmured, his hands gripping her hips with steady, deliberate strength.

Taryn's nails dug into his back, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. Through the bond, she felt everything—his hunger, his devotion, his absolute certainty that he would never let her go.

And for the first time, she didn't want him to.

And just as the next wave of pleasure began to crest—just as the bond tightened around them like a coil ready to snap—Lucien struck.

The bite came swift and perfect—his fangs sinking into her neck with a precision that stole her breath. Pain and pleasure twisted together, so tightly bound they were indistinguishable, and the bond between them flared hot and bright, igniting every nerve like a live wire.

Taryn cried out, but not from pain—no, it was something far deeper, a release that left her trembling beneath him. The bond roared to life, surging through her veins, amplifying every sensation until it was too much, too overwhelming, and yet she wanted more.

She could feel him through it all—his hunger, raw and relentless, his devotion, fierce and unwavering. His pleasure tangled with hers, magnified through the bond until it felt like they were falling together, spiraling through the same endless wave.

Lucien groaned against her skin, a low, primal sound that rumbled through her bones. His hips moved in perfect rhythm with the pulse of her pleasure, driving her higher, deeper, until the world narrowed to nothing but the two of them—bound together, mind and body, heart and soul.

And just as the coil inside her snapped, sending her spiraling over the edge, she felt him follow—his release crashing into hers like a second wave, pulling them under.

The bond pulsed in perfect sync, bright and undeniable, tethering them so tightly. Lucien's mouth lingered at her neck as the aftershocks rippled through them both. Slowly, he withdrew his fangs, and the absence left her gasping—raw and aching, but sated in a way she hadn't thought possible.

Lucien's tongue swept over the puncture marks—slow and deliberate, sealing the bite with care. The sting was immediate and swift, but fleeting. Taryn hissed out a breath and tried to pull away, before the pain subsided completely. The bond hummed with satisfaction, a warm current flowing between them, carrying his steady reassurance like a whispered promise: I've got you.

Taryn gasped as the cool air kissed her skin, the bond still humming between them, alive with aftershocks of pleasure and heat.

"Easy," he whispered against her skin, his voice rough, but edged with tenderness.

The bite marks tingled under his tongue, and Taryn shivered—not from the cold, but from the way it felt: intimate, soothing, a promise etched into her very skin.

Lucien kissed the freshly healed skin—soft, reverent—before pressing his lips to hers once more, slow and unhurried. The kiss was full of things unspoken—devotion, possession, and something dangerously close to love.

Taryn shuddered beneath him, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the bond still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. Lucien kissed the curve of her neck, soft and reverent, before pressing his forehead to hers.

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and full of something dangerously close to love. "And I am yours."

"Always." Taryn's heart pounded against his, their breaths still tangled, and through the bond, she felt everything—his hunger, his devotion, his unrelenting certainty that he would never let her go.

They lay together in the quiet aftermath, bodies tangled, hearts still racing. The morning sun spilled through the curtains, warming their skin, but Taryn only felt the steady comfort of Lucien's presence—solid and unyielding, exactly where she wanted him.

The future loomed uncertain beyond the walls of the bed-and-breakfast—the coven, the council, the dangers waiting in the shadows. But right now, none of it mattered.

Because she wasn't falling alone. Not anymore.

And she never would again.