Page 93 of Heart of the Rebel Mate

I cling to him, nails digging into his back as he moves, each thrust deep, demanding,perfect.

It's not slow. It's not gentle.

It's passion and fury and need tangled together, an undeniable force that consumes us both.

He takes me higher, pushes me over the edge, and when I shatter, I scream his name.

He follows a heartbeat later, his body tightening, a guttural groan breaking free from his lips as he spills into me.

For a moment, we stay like that, tangled, breathless, lost in the aftershocks of something bigger than both of us.

But the world doesn't stay silent forever.

Later

We lay tangled in the aftermath, my head resting on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. His touch is warm, soothing, but my thoughts have already begun to drift.

I should move. I should pull away. But I don't.

His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. "You know this changes everything."

I close my eyes.

I know.

But right now, I don't care.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

Because as the minutes stretch on, as his breathing evens out and the silence grows, my mind starts pulling away from him.

Fromthis.

Reality sinks its claws in.

The rebellion was attacked.

The place we've built, the movement we've fought for—it's been torn apart. We're still standing, butbarely.

My people need me.

And yet, here I am, lying in Adrian's arms, indulging in pleasure when I should be planning, strategizing.

A knot forms in my stomach. Guilt.

Not because ofhim—never because of him.

But because I don't have the luxury of moments like this.

Not when everything we've worked for is on the verge of crumbling.

I shift slightly, careful not to wake him. My gaze drifts to the ceiling, to the cracks in the stone, the remnants of destruction from the battle.

What now?

I don't have the answer.

But I know one thing.

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