Page 36 of Scorched By Fate

Before I could second-guess the sharp, restless twist building in me, I moved.

The decision hit like an earthquake. Sudden. Destructive. My arms lifted, looping around his neck without ceremony, hugging him close. My pulse hammered against the hollow space carved between us—far from calm but no longer lost to hesitation.

Vyne froze.

For a fraction of a second, it felt like I’d crossed some unspoken fault line between us, and my stomach twisted with uncertainty. But then his hand shifted—his claws ghosting lightly against my side before they curved, careful and caring, torest just against the small of my back. Not pushing. Not needing to.

Just keeping me steady.

His body, all too solid, didn’t lean all the way into me, but his wings curved inward, their outline enough to block out the fading glow of the barren landscape around us. The motion felt unintentional—like he hadn’t even noticed himself doing it—but it was enough to set something fragile alight inside me.

His heat should’ve burned hotter than the magma tearing through Volcaryth beneath us. But it didn’t. It didn’t hurt at all.

It felt like relief. Like safety.

When I finally let my head tilt upward, the sharp edge of his carved features came into focus—closer than they’d ever been. His breath brushed against my skin, scattering along the small spaces too narrow for heat to settle in fully.

And then he kissed me.

FOURTEEN

SELENE

His mouth tasted like promises and burnt honey.

Not the saccharine stuff people baked into pastries; this was darker. Charcoal bitter and still a bit sweet. I gasped into the kiss, fingers clawing the scales of his neck, their edges biting into my palms. His claws shredded the rock wall behind me, shards raining down around us. Heat radiated from his chest in waves, almost too much to bear.

His heat was a shield, pushing back the icy dread I carried for the healers back in Scalvaris. Just for a moment, I could forget the sickness, the uncertainty, and embrace what it felt like to feel safe.

To feelalive.

I didn’t know which was louder—the geysers vomiting steam below or the jackhammer of my pulse. My spine ground against the stone as his wings snapped open, blotting out the hellscape’s fading glare.

His tongue—long, relentless, perfect—flicked against the seam of my lips. I opened on a broken noise, letting him devour me like I’d been starved for this exact flavor of ruin. The growlvibrating against my mouth wasn’t human. Wasn’t gentle. His hips pinned me hard.

I wanted more.

Fear coiled low in my belly, a sharp reminder that I was playing with fire—a fire I wasn’t sure I could control. But it was a beautiful fire, and my better judgement could take a backseat for once.

The rumble in his chest deepened. One clawed hand let go of the wall to grip my hip, talons careful but the pressure bruising. His tail lashed, gouging fresh ruts into the mountainside.

His pupils were narrow slits, dark shards splitting golden irises. Nostrils flared, drinking my scent like I was the first clean air he’d tasted in forever. My hands shook where they clung to him, torn between shoving him back and dragging him closer until our bodies fused.

“Vyne,” I rasped, voice stripped raw.

His thumb brushed my jaw, calloused pad rasping over split skin. “You're shaking.”

“Adrenaline crash.” I bared my teeth in something too wild to be a smile. “Human thing. We don’t usually tongue-fuck walking furnaces when we're hanging off mountains.”

A muscle twitched along his jaw. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I realized my lip had split. I didn't know if it was from the harsh air or his fangs. His growl returned, lower now, as he closed the distance. I braced.

He licked the wound.

The flat of his tongue dragged from my chin up to almost my nose. My breath hitched, nails carving trenches between his shoulder scales. He groaned, the vibration rattling my ribs, and did it again.

“Salt,” he murmured against flesh. “Sweet.”

It wasn't just lust now. It was possession, a claim. A shiver wracked me, not entirely unpleasant.

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