Page 328 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“Please,” she breathed.

Fuck. That word nearly broke me. I set my forehead against hers, grounding myself.

“I need a condom, cher.”

She shook her head, our noses brushing. “I’m on a tincture.”

Same, but—“Since when?”

“Since you tried to die without me, asshole.”

I barked a laugh, smiling into her aggressive kiss. Maybe I hadn’t ruined her after all.

“Blythe hooked me up.”

She’d known. Before I’d even woken up, she knew where this was going. I didn’t know whether to beat my chest or smack her ass for putting me through that tantrum first.

“I’ve never gone bare,” I admitted.

“Then you’ve never put those piercings to good use,” she taunted.

Goddamn, I was so fucking sunk. Whether she was sent to complete me or destroy me didn’t matter. There was no turning back now.

This time, when I claimed her mouth, there was no hesitation left. Just hunger.

We devoured each other, her hips arching to meet mine as I reached down to guide myself through her slick center and over her swollen clit. She shuddered, thighs tightening around my hips.

“Fuck, yes,” I breathed, lining up with her entrance. One hand found her jaw, tipping her face to mine. “Eyes on me, Freya.”

She nodded, her gaze unwavering as I eased in. Her mouth parted when the first bar pushed inside.

“Fuuck, you’re so tight.”

“More,” she breathed, bucking against me.

My hand flew to her hip, holding her steady. “Easy, beautiful. Unless you’re trying to get me to blow like a fucking amateur.”

“Might be fun,” she smirked.

“Feral demon creature,” I muttered, earning that perfect laugh. I nipped her lip, panted, “Fuck,” and closed my eyes.

“What happened to eyes on you?”

“Breathing,” I grit out, earning her giggle and a scratch down my ribs. I kissed her softly, then met her gaze again. As I eased deeper, that second bar pushed through, and I met resistance.

“Doing okay?”

She nodded, her breath shivering.

“You’re gonna feel a pinch,” I warned. She dipped her chin in acknowledgment. I pushed through—slow, careful—and swallowed her sharp gasp with a kiss. I didn’t move, not yet. Let her adjust. Let her feel the rhythm of us, the trust, the control I wouldn’t break.

When I was certain I wouldn’t lose myself, I murmured, “You good, ma moitié?”

Another nod. “Fuck me, Cyrus,” she whispered, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. I hissed when I tasted copper, a growl rumbling deep in my chest.

Mine.

Every cell in my body roared that one word as I began a slow, easy rock.