She rode him back—matching his frantic thrusts, her nails clawing at his shoulders, leaving bright red marks he would wear with pride.
Malvor bit down on her shoulder—hard enough to mark, to claim—and the pleasure that ripped through her sent another violent climax crashing through them both.
They didn't slow. Didn't stop.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
He thrust up into her harder, faster, deeper—chasing the next high, dragging her with him, riding the endless, devastating loop of sensation until they both shattered again.
And again.
And again.
Pleasure blurred into pain. Pain blurred into hunger. Hunger blurred into love—Not spoken. Not named. But felt.
Undeniable. Unstoppable. Unbreakable.
When they finally collapsed—sweaty, gasping, bodies trembling—neither of them could move.
Malvor cradled her against his chest, rocking her slightly, pressing kisses into her hair.
The bond purred between them—wrecked, sated, molten.
Annie clung to him, shuddering in the aftermath, her body still twitching with aftershocks.
Malvor closed his eyes, breathing her in. Her scent. Her taste. Her truth.
He didn't say anything. Didn't need to.
The bond spoke for him: Mine. Yours. Ours.
Forever.
They didn't speak for a long time.
The bond between them was still open—no longer wild and roaring, but warm and heavy, a low, golden pulse beneath their skin.
Malvor shifted, adjusting them until Annie was sprawled half on top of him, her cheek pressed against his chest, their legs tangled. He dragged the sheet up lazily, covering them both.
She let him.
Didn't flinch. Didn't pull away.
Just breathed with him.
It was a simple thing. A necessary thing.
The chaos between them had been beautiful, explosive, devastating—but now came the quieter miracle:
Survival.
Malvor stroked his fingers slowly through her hair, over and over, grounding them both.
Annie's hand curled against his side, her nails idly scratching light, absent patterns against his skin. Not for show. Not for performance. Just… comfort.
The bond thrummed between them—content, lazy, home.
Malvor smiled to himself. Slow. Soft. Real.
"You're dangerous," he murmured against her temple. "You know that?"
Annie made a sound halfway between a laugh and a scoff. "Me? Dangerous? You're the one who practically broke the bed."
He huffed a low, rough laugh.
"I meant it." He traced the curve of her spine with a reverent hand.
"You could break every wall I ever built and I'd thank you for it."
The bond pulsed—surprise, wonder, fear, all tangled together.
Annie tilted her head up slightly, looking at him with guarded, exhausted eyes.
"Don't say things you don't mean," she whispered.
Malvor's smile faded. He met her gaze without flinching. "I never do."
Silence stretched between them, thick but not heavy. Not yet. Not anymore.
She studied him for a long moment, as if trying to find the trick, the lie, the hidden edge.
But there was nothing left to hide. Not after what they'd just survived.
She sighed, soft and tired, and laid her head back down against his chest.
Malvor kissed her hair. Held her closer.
"Rest," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."
The bond purred between them, warm and steady, wrapping around them like a second heartbeat.
And for once, for the first time in a very, very long time,
they both believed it.
The late afternoon light spilled through the windows in soft, golden slants, catching in the wild tangle of Annie's hair.
Malvor watched her from where he lounged against the headboard, one arm tucked lazily behind his head, the sheet barely covering his hips.
She was still curled against his side, still warm, still real.
The bond between them purred low and steady—No longer wild. No longer shattering.
Just... there.
A living thing. Breathing with them. Binding them tighter with every quiet heartbeat.
Annie stirred, blinking blearily up at him. Suspicious. Wary. Adorable.
Malvor grinned down at her, lazy and lethal.
"What?" she muttered, suspicious of that smile.
He reached down, trailing his knuckles across her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw. Soft. Possessive.
"You know," he said, voice low and thick with amusement.
"I spent all this time letting you think you were good at pretending."
She narrowed her eyes, instincts sharpening—but he felt the flicker of humor behind it, the spark of challenge.
Good.
He leaned closer, his mouth brushing hers in a kiss that wasn't really a kiss—more a claiming of breath, of space, of truth.
"Not anymore," he whispered against her lips. "I know you now."
He kissed her jaw, her throat, the place where her pulse beat wild and frantic.
"I know how you breathe when it's real." Another kiss, lower.
"I know how you tremble when you're not thinking." Another, slower kiss to the hollow of her throat.
"I know every sound you make when you're not trying to impress me."
She shivered beneath him, the bond tightening, sparking low and molten under her skin.
Malvor pulled back just enough to look at her—to let her see the truth written into every sharp line of his face.
"You can't hide from me anymore, darling." A slow, predatory smile curled his lips.
"And I'm never going to let you fake a damn thing again."
The bond between them roared—not chaotic now, but inevitable. A river pulling them both toward something bigger than either of them could fight.
Annie swallowed hard, her fingers curling instinctively into the sheet between them. She should have been scared. Should have felt trapped.
Instead...
She felt free.
Malvor watched her, felt the ripple of emotion through the bond, and laughed softly—low and delighted, as if she'd just handed him the universe without realizing it.
"Game on, love," he murmured, brushing a final kiss to her temple.
Then he leaned back against the headboard again, utterly at ease, as if he hadn't just ripped the entire world open between them.
Annie lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of his words sinking slowly, irrevocably into her bones.
No more pretending. No more training. No more armor.
Just her. Just him. Just this.
And for once—for the first time in her entire existence—
she wasn't afraid.