The woods were silent except for the distant howls of wolves. Raven walked fast, her chest heaving—not from fear, but from fury.
She didn't hear Eryk follow her, but she felt his hand grab her arm and spin her around.
"You think you're the only one cursed?" he growled. "You think you carry all the pain?"
She shoved him. "Don't pretend to understand—"
But his mouth was on hers before she could finish. Rough. Hungry. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he pressed her back against a tree, his body scorching against hers. The bark scratched her skin, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the way his hands slid under her tunic, the way her breath hitched as he whispered against her neck.
"You drive me mad, Raven."
Their curses clashed like flint and steel—burning, reckless, beautiful. Clothes came off in fragments, gasps filled the forest. She bit his shoulder when she came, and he moaned her name like a broken oath.
When it was over, they lay together on the moss. "We shouldn't have—" she began.
"But we did," he said. "And I'd do it again."