Page 24 of Magic Unmasked

He chuckled, the sound low and primal. "I must not be doing this right. You have me, and you have had me since the first time you ran into me."

Positioning himself between her thighs, he guided his rigid length to her entrance, teasing her with the tip, making her squirm and beg for more. With one swift thrust, he impaled her, filling her in one delicious stroke. Lilith cried out, her body welcoming him, tightening around him as he began to move.

Ronan set a relentless pace, his hips slamming into hers, the iron bedframe creaking in protest. He watched her face, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream as she approached the edge of release. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks, but he didn't slow down, driving her towards the brink.

"Come for me, Lilith," he demanded, his voice harsh with desire. "Surrender to it."

Her body trembled, every muscle clenching as she climaxed around him, her inner walls milking his cock. Ronan roared, his own release building, his balls drawing up tight. He thrust harder, faster, driving her to another peak even as his own orgasm threatened to consume him.

"Fuck, Lilith!" he growled, his voice hoarse. He pulled out, flipping her onto her belly and pulling her up onto her knees. He plunged back in, penetrating her to the end of her core. "You're so fucking tight. I'm gonna fill you up, mark you as mine."

Lilith's eyes flew open, realizing his intent, but he didn’t mean to ask or wait for her consent to be claimed. She’d been his all along. As he pounded into her from behind, their bodiesslick with sweat, the bed creaking in rhythm with their frenzied coupling, she arched her back, offering herself to him, her breasts swaying with each powerful thrust.

Ronan's control snapped and he sank his teeth into the nape of her neck in a vicious and brutal claiming bite. As he shook her in his teeth, he thrust into her again and again until he drove deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself inside her. Releasing her neck, he roared her name, his body shaking with the force of his release, his essence flooding her, marking her as his own.

He collapsed on her. “You’re mine now, Lilith, and no one, not even the High Council of the Fae can dispute that. You bear my mark.”

“One more scar to add to all the rest. You might have asked,” she said, but without so much as a trace of rancor in her tone.

He rolled off her, pulling her close. “And give you the chance to refuse? That was never going to happen little fae.” They lay entangled, their hearts pounding, their breath mingling. Ronan brushed the damp tendrils of hair from Lilith's face, his fingers tracing the lines of her body, possessive and tender all at once. "You're mine now, Lilith Silverwing," he whispered, his voice softening.

She nodded. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, her expression a mixture of passion and vulnerability. She reached up, her fingers threading through his tousled dark hair, pulling him down for another kiss, sealing their unspoken pact. "And you’re mine. Until we defeat those trying to tear our worlds apart… and beyond."

As their lips parted, Ronan knew that this sanctuary of desire, this moment of intense passion, would fuel them both as they faced the coming storm.

Fae Realm

The fae realm was unlike anything Ronan had ever seen—breathtaking in its otherworldly beauty but laced with an undercurrent of danger that set his every instinct on edge. He could feel the magic of this place as it brushed against his skin, foreign and untamed, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was alive, pulsing with an ancient power that both dazzled and unsettled him.

The skies above shimmered in hues of violet and gold, the distant mountains glowing with an ethereal light, and the trees—tall and shimmering with leaves like silver—whispered secrets in a language he couldn’t understand. But there was no time to marvel at the beauty around him. The small strike force was here for one purpose: to take down Oberon and his loyalists.

Beside him, Lilith moved with a deadly grace, her violet eyes glowing as she surveyed the battleground. The wind tugged at her pale hair, her wings folded close to her back as she prepared for what was to come. Every time Ronan looked at her, something deep inside him stirred—something raw and powerful, a force he could no longer deny. They had fought side by side before, but this... this was different. Their connection was deeper now, more than just physical attraction or the tension that had burned between them since they first crossed paths. There was trust and a sense of belonging to one another.

But would it be enough?

Above them, the resistance was gathering. With them here, Maeve, her face grim and her magic humming in the air, and Zephyr, his silver hair flowing like a river of light and his power crackling just beneath the surface. The Duvall sisters and theirmates had stayed behind to guard the city and to act as a last line of defense in case their merry little band wasn’t successful. They might be few in number, but the ragtag group who had turned against the High Council believed they had no choice. Oberon had grown too powerful, too dangerous. They couldn’t take him down completely—not yet—but they could weaken him. And that would have to be enough.

“Stay close,” Lilith murmured, her voice low, though it carried a note of something else—something vulnerable. She didn’t look at Ronan, but he could feel her tension, the burden of her loyalty to the realm she was about to betray for the greater good.

He nodded once, his hand tightening around the hilt of a blade borrowed from the Duvalls, the solidity in his hand grounding him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A flash of movement to his left made Ronan snap his attention toward the horizon. Oberon’s forces were gathering, materializing out of the shimmering air like shadows come to life. Dark, twisted figures—fae warriors bound to Oberon’s will—emerged in waves, their eyes gleaming with malice, their magic a suffocating presence that pressed down on the battlefield.

They fought their way through Oberon’s army, making slow but steady progress towards the council chambers where they knew Oberon waited. They entered the hall, and there, at the center of it all, was the fae high councilor, Oberon, his face cold and unyielding, his silver eyes glinting with triumph.

The air crackled with magic as Oberon raised his hands, his power exploded outward, a wave of dark magic that slammed into them with the force of a hurricane. Ronan abandoned the blade for now, bracing himself as his sabretooth surged forward, unleashing the power of his shifted form. But before the magic could hit them, Lilith was already moving. Her wings flaredopen, launching herself from the floor, her sword glowing with a fierce light.

Spell-fire lit up the chamber as the battle began in earnest, explosions of magic colliding midair, sending shockwaves through the floor beneath their feet. The earth itself trembled, splitting open in jagged cracks as magic tore through it, the very fabric of the realm shaking under the force of the confrontation.

Ronan’s pulse pounded in his ears as he charged into the fray, his claws slicing through the enemy with brutal precision. The dark fae warriors attacked relentlessly, their magic lashing out in fiery arcs, but Ronan was faster, stronger.

He tore through the ranks of Oberon’s minions, his claws leaving deep gouges in their bodies, his teeth sinking into flesh. Blood splattered the floor, the scent of it thick in the air, mixing with the acrid stench of burnt ozone from the magic that crackled through the combat zone.

But even as he fought, his gaze was drawn to Lilith. She was a force of nature, her movements fluid and deadly as she battled her way through Oberon’s forces. Magic poured from her in waves, her blade a blur of silver as she cut down anything that stood in her way. And yet, through it all, there was a connection between them—a rhythm to their fighting that felt as natural as breathing.

They moved in perfect synchronization, as if they had been doing this for centuries. Every time Ronan struck, Lilith was there to back him up, her magic reinforcing his attacks. Every time Lilith faltered, Ronan was there to protect her, his sabretooth form shielding her from the worst of the onslaught. It was as if their trust in each other had manifested into something tangible, something that made them stronger together than they could ever be apart.

Oberon stood across the chamber, tall and unyielding, his silver hair gleaming under the magical light. His smile wasa razor, full of condescension. “You really thought you could walk into my house,” he sneered, his cold gaze flicking between Ronan and Lilith, “and topple centuries of power?”

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