VELMORRA

Lies on her skin

The morning tasted of ash.

Lira stood beneath the crystalline stream of her shower, water scalding against skin that still remembered Arien’s touch-dream or not. She scrubbed hard, as though she could rinse guilt off her bones.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

Except her lips still tingled. Her thighs still ached. Her magic, even now, flickered unsteadily in her veins-volatile and mistrustful, like it didn’t know who she was anymore.

She didn’t know either.

When she stepped into the hall of the estate, Darian was already waiting. A black shirt clung to his torso, dark jeans slung low on his hips. He looked tired-tired and alert. Eyes too sharp, like he hadn’t slept. Like he’d felt something.

“You okay?” he asked without preamble.

Her heart kicked. “Fine.”

His gaze narrowed. “You’re lying.”

“You always assume the worst?”

“No. I feel it when your magic changes. Last night-it was… different.”

“I had a dream.”

That made him pause. “A dream?”

“Not important,” she lied.

His jaw twitched. “Did someone invade it?”

“No.” Her eyes dropped. “I think… I think it was just me.”

Darian stepped forward, too close for comfort. His presence didn’t smother like Arien’s-it surrounded, like shelter. But she flinched anyway.

He noticed.

“Was I in it?” he asked quietly.

“No.”

“Then who?”

She hesitated.

Darian's voice dropped to gravel. “Tell me it wasn’t him.”

Her silence said everything.

He backed away like she’d slapped him.

“So that’s what you dream about now?” he asked. “Your past lover breaking into your head and touching what doesn’t belong to him anymore?”

“It was a dream,” she said quickly. “It didn’t happen.”

“But you wanted it,” he bit out. “Didn’t you?”

“Stop.”

“Did you?” he snapped, stepping back toward her. “Did you let him touch you in that dream?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “But I stopped it.”

“Too late,” he growled. “You let him in.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, Darian turned, hand braced on the wall. His voice, when it came, was a rasp:

“I’ve tried to be patient. To let you choose this. Choose me. But gods, Lira-how do I fight ghosts you won’t even banish?”

She stepped forward, heart raw. “I don’t want him.”

“You did. Last night. In your sleep. With your mouth open for him.”

“Stop-”

“And when you woke up,” he continued, “was it me you thought of? Or did you wish you hadn’t woken at all?”

Tears blurred her vision. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

He turned then, swift and sudden. The heat in his eyes was no longer anger-it was need.

Dark, furious need.

“You’re mine,” he said. “Even when your mind betrays you. Even when your past tries to crawl back. I’ll remind you who you belong to.”

“Darian-”

But he was already on her, mouth crashing down in a kiss that burned. It wasn’t gentle. It was possession in its purest form-hands gripping her waist, her hair, her throat like he was anchoring her to now.

She gasped when he lifted her, slamming her back against the nearest wall. His mouth devoured her neck, and she moaned-part apology, part surrender.

He growled against her skin, voice rough. “Say my name.”

“Darian-”

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. The other slid between her thighs, testing, teasing.

“Say it again.”

“Darian.”

“Louder.”

She whimpered, caught between shame and desire. He slid two fingers inside her-fast, unforgiving. Her body jerked.

“Say it.”

“Darian!”

He kissed her again-deeper, dirtier-while his hand worked her like he knew every broken part. She was undone in seconds, choking on the power of it.

She came with his name on her lips like a curse.

Only then did he pull back, eyes dark and unreadable.

“You don’t get to forget me,” he whispered. “Not even in your dreams.”