“Rok,” I gasp, my head falling back, giving him better access. Why does it feel so good?

He takes full advantage, his mouth moving down to my collarbone, his hands coming to rest on my waist, steadying me. Every touch, every brush of his lips, sends sparks shooting across my skin. It’s too much and not enough. I should stop this. I should⁠—

His mouth finds my breast, and all rational thought evaporates.

He freezes, his breath hot against my sensitive skin. I feel him inhale deeply, as if memorizing my scent. Then, cautiously, experimentally, his tongue darts out, tasting the water droplets still clinging to my skin.

“Oh god,” I whisper, my hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in.

My cry seems to embolden him. His tongue flattens against my nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure so intense it borders on pain through my body. I arch into him, a moan escaping my lips.

Rok growls again, the sound vibrating through me. He’s enjoying this—enjoying my reactions, my responsiveness. He circles my nipple with his tongue, then takes it gently between his lips, the careful pressure making me squirm beneath him.

I reach for him, needing something to hold on to, but he catches my wrists in one large hand, pinning them above my head against the stone. The restraint should feel threatening, but instead, it sends another wave of heat through me.

And that burning intensity is rising beneath my skin.

His free hand slides down my side, mapping the curve of my waist, the flare of my hip, and he shudders again even as his mouth continues its sweet torture on my breast. He’s licking it like it’s a fruit. When he switches to the other side, giving it the same thorough attention, I’m writhing beneath him, panting his name like a prayer.

“Rok…please…I can’t…”

I don’t even know what I’m begging for. More? Less? My body is a riot of sensation, every nerve ending alive and singing. The burning need under my skin has intensified, concentrated into a throbbing ache between my legs that’s becoming impossible to ignore.

And I should ignore it. I bite my bottom lip as images, those dreams of him and how perfect—oh fuck—just how perfect it was, rise back into my mind. My core clenches even as I fight hard to push back against the feeling.

Rok lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. The glow beneath his skin pulses in time with his breathing, which has grown rapid, uneven. He’s affected too—I can feel the tremors running through his powerful frame, the slight tremble in the hand still pinning my wrists.

His gaze drops to my body, traveling slowly downward, taking in every detail. He might not be able to talk my ears off, but the look in his eyes is undeniable. Like a man starved, he’s looking at me like I’m a bountiful buffet. When his gaze reaches my stomach, he releases my wrists, both hands now moving to my hips, holding me in place as he lowers his head again.

The moment his tongue brushes my skin, my breath stutters. He traces my navel, circling it before dipping briefly inside, as if he doesn’t want to leave an inch of me untouched. I gasp, arching against his hold. He freezes, his face inches from my belly, nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply. Whatever he scents there makes him growl, a deeper, primal sound that only makes a throb go through my center.

“Rok,” I whisper, half-warning, half-plea.

He shifts lower, positioning himself between my legs, his hands moving to my thighs, gently urging them wider. I should stop him. This is too fast, too much, too⁠—

His breath ghosts over my center, and my objections dissolve into a moan that sounds wanton even to my own ears. There’s no tentative exploration, no cautious first taste. He devours me with a primal hunger that takes my breath away, his tongue parting me in one broad, possessive stroke that has me crying out, my back arching off the stone.

“God—Rok—” The words fracture as pleasure spikes through me, sharp and overwhelming.

His hands tighten on my thighs, pinning me in place as I try to squirm away from the intensity. But it’s clear he’s not stopping, not slowing down, not until he’s had his fill. My fingers find his hair, trying to anchor myself as he unleashes his hunger against me, his tongue relentless, his growls vibrating through my core.

There’s nothing gentle in the way he claims me. This is pure, raw need—a barbarian feasting after famine, caring only for his own savage pleasure in the taking. Yet somehow, impossibly, it’s exactly what my body craves. Each ruthless stroke of his tongue sends me higher, each possessive grip of his hands makes me wetter, each rumbling growl against my sensitive flesh pushes me closer to the edge.

“Yes—there—don’t stop⁠—”

My pleas turn to mindless sounds as he finds the perfect rhythm, the perfect pressure. And I’m helpless.

My body trembles beneath him, tension building to an almost unbearable peak. His hands grip my thighs with bruising force, holding me open, keeping me exactly where he wants me as I come apart under his lips. The moment it happens, it’s like the sun explodes. The glow under Rok’s skin is blinding, the growls against my pussy like a crazed animal. I try to close my legs as the sensation becomes too much, but he snarls against me, the vibration only heightening my pleasure as he forces them wider.

Through the haze of my own ecstasy, I feel the tremors running through him, see the intensity of his glow pulsing brighter with each sound I make, sense the way his muscles bunch and flex with his own rising need. Is he…is he getting pleasure from consuming mine? His body responding to my surrender without being touched?

It’s that realization that pushes me over the edge. I shatter with his name on my lips, my body convulsing in waves of pleasure that crash over me like a tsunami, my vision narrowing to pinpoints of golden light. Even as I peak, he doesn’t relent, driving me higher, extending my climax until I’m sobbing with the intensity of it, my hands pushing at his shoulders, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation.

And then he stops.

Abruptly.

The absence of his touch is a shock to my system. My body collapses back against the cool stone, trembling, my breaths coming in ragged gasps as the echoes of my release ripple through me. I feel wrecked—utterly, completely wrecked. My skin burns, my limbs shake, my heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.

But before I can even process what’s happening to me, before I can catch my breath, I feel the shift in him.

It’s immediate. Violent.

I lift my head, my still-blurry vision locking onto him, and what I see sends a jolt of fear straight through me.

Rok is on his knees, his body hunched, his claws digging into the stone beneath him. His glow is wild—erratic—flickering in sharp bursts that cast jagged shadows across the chamber walls. His breaths come in harsh, guttural snarls, and when he lifts his head to look at me, his eyes are…

Wrong.

The brilliant gold I’ve come to know is gone, swallowed by black, his pupils blown so wide they look endless. His lips curl back, revealing those sharp fangs, and a sound rumbles out of him—a growl low and guttural, but layered with something else.

Pain.

His growl deepens, reverberating through me, but something about it changes. It’s not just hunger or need—it’s…strained. Like he’s holding himself back. Then he freezes. His head lifts, his gaze locking on mine, and for a moment, he looks almost…terrified.

“Rok?” I breathe, reaching for him, but he jerks back, his entire body trembling. Whatever’s happening to him, it’s too much. Too overwhelming. And I’m not sure if it’s me he’s trying to protect—or himself.

“Rok?”

He doesn’t respond. Or maybe he can’t. His gaze locks on me, piercing through me, and the intensity in it makes my breath hitch.