"There is no surrender in love, only the relief of finally being held."
The sudden, complete surrender in the dusty archives had drained every last drop of my remaining strength. Once Marcus settled behind me, my trembling stopped, and the agonizing chaos of the heat cycle was immediately muffled by the overwhelming anchor of his presence. He did not rush. He simply held me there for a long, silent time, his heart thudding a steady rhythm against my back, his scent clean, reassuring oak working like a deep sedative on my over-sensitized system.
When he finally moved, it was with the quiet, calculated grace of a predator who knows he holds the entire world in his arms. He lifted me, and it was not a demanding scoop, but a gentle, supporting elevation, as if I were made of glass. I was too weak to protest, too grateful to care. I simply wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into the protective curve of his shoulder.
