Page 90 of Chaos Carnival

I couldn't deny it. The need to claim, to protect, to keep her safe had been my driving force since the moment our souls recognized each other. To stand beside her now, knowing she could likely tear apart reality itself if she chose, was... humbling.

“You're different,” I admitted at last.

“I am.” No apology in her voice, no uncertainty. Just calm acknowledgment of her transformation.

“But you're still you.” I needed to believe that—that beneath the cosmic power and otherworldly knowledge, my Tess remained.

She leaned into me, her warmth a reassuring contrast to the void surrounding us. “I'm still me. Just... more.”

My arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer. The familiar curve of her body against mine anchored me even as her power sent ripples through my shadows. This strange new dynamicbetween us—where she was no longer just mine to protect but something wild and free that had chosen to stay—would take getting used to.

“So what happens now?” I asked, brushing my lips against hers.

The kiss deepened, her mouth soft and eager against mine. When she pulled back, stars seemed to dance in her eyes—literal constellations of light.

“Now we rewrite the rules,” she whispered. “Together.”

The platform beneath us rippled, Chicago blurring further as we kissed again. She shivered as my hands slid lower. The glass platform swayed, suspended between worlds by nothing but her concentration.

“Careful, monstre,” I teased, nipping at her ear. “Wouldn't want us to fall.”

Her eyes flashed with that diabolical look that made my shadows writhe with want. “We won't fall.” She turned us, pressing my back to the glass railing. “Unless I want us to.”

The kiss tasted like lightning, like possibility stretching its wings. Her tongue left a lingering tang of alchemy and sin. I groaned, surrendering to her, to the moment, letting my umbra unfurl and writhe around us both.

The glass platform beneath our feet swayed once more, the familiar skyline wavering and blurring.

“Tess,” I murmured, but she just smiled.

“Trust me,” she breathed, the words a warm whisper that stirred into a roaring blaze. Her hands slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, trailing a scorching path of desire across my skin. “I've got us.”

The air grew heavy with anticipation, our breaths melding into a single, ragged symphony. My fingertips danced across her skin, tracing the curves of her body, gliding over her breasts, thepeaks tightening under my touch. When I gave them a pinch, she let out a soft, needy moan.

“Are you still my bad girl, monstre?”

“Always,” she whispered. “And forever.”

Her confidence was intoxicating, and in that moment, held aloft by nothing but her will, there was nowhere else I'd rather be than with this woman who had become my match in every way.

As her hand found its way to my hardening cock, I traced a path down to her waist, hooking my fingers into the delicate fabric of her panties. She smiled as they disappeared, leaving her bare for me.

She gripped me firmly and in the quiet of the night, I growled, the sound rumbling through my chest, a beast awakened by the touch of a goddess. She couldn't unbutton my pants fast enough, so she dematerialized those too, leaving us naked and desperate for each other.

Even as passion made her power fluctuate, as my shadows threatened to consume us both, the platform remained solid. The glass turned to diamond beneath our feet, then to prisms of light, then back to glass, following the rhythm of our movements.

She wrapped her legs around me, running her fingers through my hair, as I pushed my length into her, pressed to the railing, letting her feel what she did to me. The city spun dizzyingly far below, a blur of lights and life, but all I could focus on was the way she met my thrusts, the frenzied sounds she made as my hands explored the curves of her body. Each sigh, each gasp, was a symphony to my ears as desire danced between us like a living thing.

“Fuck, monstre. Mine,” I growled, the declaration rumbling from the depths of my chest, and this time she didn't argue. Tess pulled me deeper, squeezed her legs tighter. We writhed together, a wanton mix of moans and wet, squelching sounds.

With each stroke, my fingers gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, and she met me with equal fervor. There was no Maverick, no Tess, just the raw essence of our beings, entwined and unbreakable. Her nails raked down my back, a stinging pleasure that heightened the frenzy. I was lost in her, consumed by the fire that burned only for her.

The observation deck shimmered, as we undulated.

“Still worried about falling?” she asked, a playful challenge.

I silenced her with a press of my fingers to her mouth. She welcomed them in, slick with the heat of her breath and desire.

Withdrawing my fingers with a slowness that bordered on cruel, I found the apex of her thighs. I pressed into her folds and caressed her swollen bud, coaxing a gasp that was almost audible.

---