Chapter 73: The Fire Emanating Between Us
The ruins were silent now, but Isla’s heart pounded louder than ever. The distant sounds of retreat and war cries had faded into an oppressive stillness, leaving only the crackle of cooling embers and the rustle of the wind through crumbling stone.
But here, in the shadow of the past, Damian’s presence eclipsed everything.
His eyes, molten silver in the moonlight, bore into her with an intensity that stole the breath from her lungs. His hands gripped her waist with certainty, but it was more than possession, it was anchoring. As if he needed to feel her alive beneath his fingers just as badly as she needed to feel the weight of him, solid and real.
They were both trembling, not from fear, but from the aftermath. From everything unspoken.
She could still feel the ghost of Vincent’s gaze on her, the echo of those terrible words: It’s already begun. Her blood hummed with a strange new power, and her body remembered the way she had moved, faster, stronger, more other than she had ever been.
But here, in Damian’s arms, none of that mattered.
Only this did.
“Damian…” Her voice was a whisper, threaded with uncertainty.
He didn’t let her finish. His lips found hers in a kiss that shattered the fragile calm between them. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was everything they’d held back since the moment their lives had tilted on their axes.
The most raw, desperate and hungry desperation took them over.
Isla gasped against him as he pressed her back against the nearest wall of stone, his mouth still claiming hers, hands sliding over her ribs, her back, her hips, like he was trying to memorize every inch of her. Her fingers fisted in the collar of his shirt before sliding into his hair, pulling him closer, grounding herself in the storm of him.
“I should be furious with you,” he rasped, breaking the kiss only long enough to drag his lips down the line of her jaw, his breath hot against her skin.
She trembled beneath him. “Then punish me.”
The sound that rumbled from Damian’s chest was pure danger, rumbling low and primal. It vibrated through her, making her blood pulse faster, her body ache with anticipation. His mouth found the spot just beneath her ear, biting down gently before soothing it with his tongue. “You’re reckless.”
She gasped as his hand found the bare skin beneath her shirt, tracing along the waistband of her pants. “You love it.”
His chuckle was dark. “It drives me insane.”
And then he lifted her, effortless, as if she weighed nothing and pinned her to the wall, his body pressing into hers, all strength and heat and unrelenting need.
Isla wrapped her legs around his waist, anchoring herself as his mouth blazed a trail down her neck. Every brush of his lips sent a new wave of fire through her blood. Her body responded instinctively, hips tilting into his, seeking friction, seeking him.
Damian’s hands roamed with purpose, claiming her as if he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long. There was no gentleness in his touch, only worship laced with ferocity. He was unraveling, and she welcomed it, even wanted it.
Her shirt was shoved higher, exposing skin to the cool night air, but she barely noticed. All she could feel was him, his mouth tracing the line of her collarbone, then lower, his hands gripping her thighs tightly.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, voice hoarse.
“I think I do,” she breathed, shuddering as his teeth grazed her skin again and then he dropped to his knees before her.
The motion stole her breath. His eyes, those burning silver eyes, never left hers. Even as his hands trailed down her body, even as his lips pressed to the skin just above her hip, he watched her. Every breath, every tremor. It was devotion and lust and power all wrapped into one soul-shattering gaze.
She reached for him, fingers brushing his jaw, her voice barely a whisper. “Damian…”
But he didn’t answer.
Instead, he buried his face against her, a soft groan escaping his throat as his hands slid under her thighs again, adjusting her, steadying her. Then, oh god, his mouth met the heat of her, and Isla nearly cried out, the sensation too much, too sudden.
The ancient stones behind her offered no mercy as her head fell back against them. Her body was lightning and wildfire and pure instinct. She’d thought she’d known desire before, but this, this was something else. This was something feral.
Damian worshipped her like a man starved. Every movement was purposeful, every flick of his tongue, every grip of his hands calculated to push her further toward the edge. She was trembling, panting, grasping at the stone, at his hair, at anything to ground her as wave after wave of pleasure built within her.
He pulled back only when she cried out, her body tensing as she came undone, and even then, he didn’t let go.
He rose slowly, a predator in full control now, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but there was reverence in his expression.
She sagged against him, breathless, boneless, undone.
“You’re mine,” he whispered against her lips, as if he needed to say it aloud to make it real. “No matter what’s coming. No matter what they try to take.”
Isla cupped his face, pressing her forehead to his. “I was always yours.”
As the night wind whispered through the ruins, even as that strange pull stirred in her belly again—a warning, a promise, Isla knew that whatever waited beyond the veil of this night, they would face it together.
They had to because the battle wasn’t over. In reality, it was just beginning.