I knew that, because I felt it, too.

I know, I wanted to say. But my own orgasm stole the words, my cock buried deep inside her, muscles seizing. She was shaking, whimpering, as her body tensed through wave after wave of aftershock.

I held her, and filled her, nestling my face into the space between her throat and shoulder as we both relinquished ourselves.

For a few incredible seconds, everything disappeared in a hazy, soft mist of her.

When the world returned, it all felt... different.

I’d had plenty of sex before. Some bad, some good, much of it ill-advised. But this didn’t feel like sex. It felt like a religious ritual—like finding faith.

Oraya had collapsed against me. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit me—and with it, a fresh awareness of the pain of my wounds, which I’d strained something fierce in all the activity. Not that I could bring myself to be too broken up about it.

Her breath was deep and hard. My hand fell to her back, rubbing softly.

Finally, she sat up. She licked my throat with a little flick, cleaning off the rest of the blood. I tipped her head back and did the same, relishing the final tastes of her. The shift of her hips with the movement reminded me that I was still inside her. Another kiss, another minute, and I could’ve had her again.

But that blood-and-sex-drunk weariness had settled over me, and I could tell Oraya was fighting it, too.

I fell back onto the bed, turning on my side and gently guiding her down to the blankets as I slipped from her.

She curled up on her side and I folded around her, our bodies fitting easily together.

Already, I sensed her heartbeat slowing, her breath calming.

Already, my own eyelashes were fluttering.

I kissed her shoulder, her cheek, settled down in a nest of her hair. Her scent surrounded me. Oraya had always smelled so damned alive—not the scent of incense or withered flowers like so many vampires, but the scent of spring.

I felt the overwhelming urge to say something to her, even though I wasn’t sure what that would be. But Oraya’s hand fell over mine, and that touch somehow seemed to mean more than all the words put together.

Maybe for the best, because sleep took me so fast, they slipped through my fingers like sand, anyway.

46

ORAYA

I awoke to soft kisses over my cheek, my ear, my neck.

These last months, waking up always felt like a battle, as if I was being dragged back to the land of the living kicking and screaming.

This was not a battle. This was a gentle summons, sweet and tender.

I felt, for the first time in so long, safe.

Safe, for the first time since...

Since... the last time I had woken up like this. In Raihn’s arms.

It took several seconds for my awareness to come back to me. I was naked, in bed, in Raihn’s arms. I was sore from the battle I’d fought to save his life and then from the fucking we’d done when I refused to leave him.

His kisses trailed to my throat, a tiny stab of pain as they brushed the wounds where I’d let him drink from me.

Mother, I still tasted the tang of his blood on my own tongue.

Every piece of this seemed more outlandish than the last. A month ago—hell, weeks ago—I would have been appalled with myself.

Instead, I felt... strangely at peace.

I opened my eyes and rolled over. Raihn propped himself up on one elbow, watching me. A familiar little smirk clung to his lips.

“Evening, princess.”

Funny, how intimate those two words sounded. Maybe it was just the way his voice sounded rolling over them, seductive and warm and just a little bit shy.

I murmured, “Hello.”

What else was I going to say?

The smirk softened. “Hello,” he whispered.

My gaze trailed down his bare body, taking in the expanse of muscles and scarred skin—pausing, for just a moment, at his cock, partially hardened—before returning to the crisscross of wounds over his abdomen and sides. I questioned my sanity as I took them in. They seemed so much better than yesterday, when Raihn had barely been able to move.

Following my gaze, he said, “The blood helped. A lot.” His lips brushed over my forehead. “Thank you.”

I squirmed a little at the way he said that. So sincerely.

“Of course,” I muttered. Like it was what I’d planned all along. If I’d been thinking logically, it did make sense to let Raihn drink from me—I’d seen before how much it helped him heal, and he’d needed that desperately.

But I couldn’t even lie to myself. I hadn’t offered my blood to him out of a sense of practicality. I’d offered it to him out of blind, maddening desire—desire to have more of him inside me, and more of myself inside him.

And Goddess, it had been—it had been—

I cleared my throat to avoid getting lost in that particular cascade of distracting thoughts.

I twitched as his fingertips traced my abdomen, tickling over my belly button.

“Looks like it helped you, too,” he said.

I blinked down at myself, brow furrowed. The cuts were still there, yes, and still sore, but they no longer bled. They looked as if they’d been healing for several weeks, not for twelve hours. It rivaled the effects of a healing potion.

“Is that… normal?” I asked.

“Not sure if anything about either of us is normal,” he said.

Well. That was true.

“Heir blood, if I had to guess,” he went on. “Maybe combined with your half-human lineage. I don’t know. But I’m not about to question it.”

His touch ran over one of the shallower wounds, tracing a lightning-crack scar of pink flesh. For the briefest moment, his face darkened, before settling again as he turned back to me.

“Oraya,” he said softly, “I—”

I wasn’t prepared for this. For his heartfelt words. I had no regrets about last night, but I couldn’t open myself up for him again today. Touch was one thing. But words... words were complicated.

“We need to go back to the castle,” I said.

I was brisk and businesslike. Just as I had once been with him when we strategized together in the Kejari.

Raihn’s mouth closed. Understanding fell over his face quickly. He was a half-step behind me, but he slipped into the same role just as easily.

“I know,” he said.

That was it. No questions, no hesitation. Anyone might have laughed in my face for even saying it, but I felt a twinge of satisfaction that he had already been thinking the same thing.

Maybe it was a death sentence to go back there. Anyone else would have advised that we flee Sivrinaj, and not come back unless we had an army to bring with us.

I knew what Vincent would have said:

Don’t feed yourself to the wolves, little serpent. Know when your bite isn’t strong enough.

But of course Raihn already accepted it as simple truth that we needed to go back, and immediately. Because his inner circle was still in that castle—Mische was still in that castle. He would not leave her there, especially not in Simon’s clutches.

I wouldn’t, either. It was never even an option.

I knew, even without him saying anything, that Raihn was thinking about Mische, because I could see the pained expression fall over his face—one part fury, one part agony.

My hand fell to his arm, firm and comforting.

“We’ll get her out,” I said. “And in the meantime, you know she’s putting up a hell of a fight.”

A faint hint of a smile, which immediately dimmed.

“That,” he said, “is what I’m afraid of.”

Raihn hated Simon, but I’d come to realize he was also afraid of him. Genuinely afraid, the way I had been afraid my entire life. I wondered if my fear seemed as outlandish to Raihn as his fear did to me. As undeserving of his time.

My fingers tightened around his arm. “You are better than him,” I said, more viciously than I’d intended. “Fuck him. We are going to destroy him, Bloodborn army or no.”