The room still smelled of Azric, smoke, blood, and raw obsession. Valkhara’s body trembled, her skin marked where his teeth had claimed her, but the bond’s hunger didn’t fade. It shifted. It changed.
Daxos stood in the doorway like a storm contained by sheer will alone, dark hair falling loose around his shoulders, eyes glowing faint gold. Sevrin was beside him, silent, sharp, his violet gaze cutting straight through her as if he could see every bruise, every ache, every piece of her that still wasn’t theirs.
The bond snapped tight.
Daxos moved first.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
One hand tangled in her hair, dragging her head back with a low growl that rumbled through her bones.
His mouth crashed against hers, and she gasped, clawing at his shoulders, tasting fury and hun
