The terrace dissolved into twilight as Rion’s wings folded around Freya, their kiss lingering in the cool air, a spark that promised more.
Her certainty—her love—burned in her eyes, and it unraveled him.
“Freya,” he rasped, his voice thick with need.
“Let’s go inside.”
She nodded, breathless, and he swept her into his arms, lifting her with a gentleness that belied the storm raging within him.
His wings rushed inside him as he carried her down the stairs, her arms around his neck, her face pressed to his chest, breathing him in.
The fate bond pulsed, as if a golden thread was tightening with every heartbeat.
He kicked her chamber door open, the setting sun’s glow bathing the room in soft gold as he set her down, his hands steadying her hips.
She pulled him on her. “I’m yours”
