The celebration was quiet—mourning mingled with relief. Aria washed the blood from her skin in the warm spring near the Everpine cliffs, alone in the silver glow of moonlight.
Until she heard him.
Kael.
He didn't speak. Just watched.
And then he stepped into the water with her, fully clothed, eyes burning.
Neither moved.
Then both did.
He was on her in an instant—his hands gripping her face, his mouth crashing into hers like a dam finally breaking. The kiss wasn't sweet. It was wild. Hungry. Desperate. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing him like air.
"Tell me to stop," he rasped against her lips.
She didn't.
She ripped his shirt off, running her hands over the planes of his chest, clawing at him like her body had waited a lifetime. He growled low in his throat, pinning her against the rock wall of the spring. The water lapped at their thighs as his mouth found her neck, trailing down to the mark that pulsed with desire.
"You're fire," he whispered. "You're mine."
"Then take me," she gasped.
He did.
Clothes were discarded in wet slaps. Her back hit the rock, his body flush against hers—hot, hard, ready. He slid inside her in one thrust, and they both cried out, the echo swallowed by the forest.
She moved with him, her hips grinding against his, her nails digging into his back as he pushed deeper, slower, harder. Every stroke lit something inside her—need, want, something holy and carnal all at once. His hands gripped her thighs, lifting her so he could thrust harder, deeper, until she shattered around him, moaning his name against his mouth.
He followed with a growl, his release pulsing inside her, their bodies trembling together.
When they collapsed, he held her like she was sacred.
Because she was.
And when she whispered, "Kael," he kissed her again—gentler this time.
She had burned through betrayal.
And now, she rose in passion.