Fuck, I’ve been a bloody fool. All this time, I’ve been running from her, from magic, from this connection—thinking I was avoiding danger. But in reality, I’ve been running from the very thing that makes life worth living. Every moment I spent trying to distance myself from Sydney was a moment squandered, aprecious opportunity lost. The irony of it all threatens to choke me.
Now, with our bond freshly forged and danger looming, I see it all so clearly. If we make it out of this alive, I swear I'll cherish every heartbeat we share, every breath, every touch. And if fate has other plans… Well, at least I’ll go knowing I finally got something right. Our mating, this heartfelt connection—it’s the one thing in this mad, magical world that I’ll never regret. It’s taken me far too long to realize it, but Sydney isn’t my weakness. She’s my strength, my reason to fight, my reason to live. And by God, I’ll spend whatever time we have left making sure she knows it.
Circling her swollen clit, I bask in her sighs and moans. She melts, all delicious and sweet, around my hand as I plunge my fingers inside her and rub her sweet spot.
Her fingernails find their way into my shoulders, and I smile when she dusts my neck with urgent kisses. The smile turns to desperate hunger when she catches my mouth in a searing kiss, rises above my aching erection, and pushes herself down on it.
The tight clasp of her body is both a homecoming and a pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever felt. My mate. Mine. No matter what. Our time may be short, but our love is unlimited.
Grabbing her hips, I tutor her in long, rough strokes as I take her lips again, then settle deep, mating with her body, her mouth—her heart.
Gripping my biceps, she strokes up and down my cock, igniting me in an inferno-hot pleasure. She tightens around me, as if she means to hold onto me forever. Her cheeks grow pink, then flush a darker rose. Her nipples swell, her head tips back. She looks like the ultimate goddess of ecstasy. Smart, brave, loving.
Forever mine.
My heart swells with need, with love. My body does the same.
Grimacing, I try to stave off the barreling orgasm. But Sydney’s pace quickens. She digs her fingers deeper into me as she bounces on me, chanting my name as if she’s begging.
I can’t deny her.
“I love you.” I curl my arms around her and fuse my mouth to hers as her sex clamps around me, pulsing long and urgently, driving me mad. I swallow her scream and join her over the abyss, in an ecstasy that suffuses me with satisfaction.
But a jolt of power follows, so intense it nearly overpowers my system. And love. God, so much of it. That love gives me a new dimension of strength. I’m determined that, while that may have been our first time making love as mates, it damn well won’t be our last.
Quietly, we dress, pausing to steal kisses and reassure one another with our embrace. I touch her, wrap her in my arms, then cuddle her in my lap.
“Caden?” She turns worried brown eyes on me.
I know everything on her mind. It’s on mine too. But damn it, I haven’t come this far, been born with the sort of magic that my mother—as a good seer—praised, and found this amazing woman, only to have her ripped from me.
Time to fight.
“It’s not over.”
“Your time alone is.” A familiar voice intrudes on our intimate cocoon. Shock. Then he opens the cell and motions to Sydney. “Come with me.”
Chapter
Sixty-Four
Sydney
Itremble as Shock drags me by the elbow toward the middle of the house. “Where are you taking me?”
“Where Mathias asked me to.”
His complete lack of inflection, of guilt, incenses me. Rage bottles up inside me. Then I wonder why I’m keeping a cork in it. I’m going to die, regardless. Why not tell Shock what toilet scum I think he is?
“So you enjoy watching innocent people be tortured to death? Or you just don’t care?”
He glares down his shoulder at me, his expression unreadable. “You’re playing games you don’t understand.”
“You’re betraying people who count on you.”
“More than you know,” he mutters, then tugs on my elbow again.
As I fear, Shock lugs me back to the cold sitting room of black, glass, and chrome. There, Mathias sits, his expression cool but impatient. I have the distinct impression he’sconcealing the depth of his rage. And it scares the hell out of me. The Doomsday Diary sits on the table in front of him. The half-dressed witch who took it from me sleeps in a corner. At least I hope the woman is asleep.