Page 262 of Emylia

“So am I,” he growled. “Come with me. Don’t hold back.”

He grabbed my face and kissed me like I was the last breath he’d ever take.

I shattered—again—screaming into his mouth as I fell, and he followed, thrusting one final time with a guttural sound, spilling inside me with a curse that cracked like thunder.

We held each other through the aftershocks, trembling, breathless, lips still locked like we were afraid it might end.

The water lapped gently around us, quiet now, as if even the stream knew it had witnessed something sacred.

Maalikai still held me, our bodies pressed together—his breath brushing my earlobe, his hands curled tight around my hips like he wasn’t ready to let go.

Eventually, Maalikai leaned his forehead against mine, both of us panting, wrecked.

“I’m not sure I can feel my legs,” I whispered.

He smirked, breathless. “I can carry you.”

“Please don’t. My pride’s already hanging by a thread.”

His hand slid along my waist, fingers splayed, tender and possessive. “If it makes you feel better... the way you have complete control over me? It commands all my pride. So take it. All of it.”

I snorted. “Gods, that was cheesy.”

His lips brushed my jaw. “You liked it.”

I sighed, dramatic and content. “Maybe a little.”

ChapterFifty-Seven

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a molten glow across the clearing, where the grass still shimmered with droplets from the stream.

The air was thick with summer’s breath—floral, heavy, and humming with the last traces of magik still sparking in my veins. Insects buzzed lazily through the warmth, and somewhere in the distance, birdsong drifted through the trees, soft and haunting.

Somehow, Maalikai had managed to disentangle me and carry me to the shore without me having to lift a finger. Now, I lay stretched across the grass, the scent of damp earth and wildflowers curling around me as I stared up at drifting clouds.

Everything was tranquil. Serene.

Perfect—no, beyond perfect.

Maalikai lay next to me, hands folded beneath his head, ankles crossed, now also half dressed.

This was the man who had picked up the shards of my heart and held them tenderly until I healed. He never tried to fix me—just loved me until I remembered how to love myself. That kind of love? It was everything.

I reached over and traced the birthmark on his chest—a perfect wolf, etched by fate. I looked at my wrist, seeing the perfect formation of a wolf howling, a scar identical to his and my chest tightened.

This was it–the moment I’d been waiting for. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a tiny box, wrapped in brown paper and twine.

Maalikai’s eyes sharpened with curiosity. “What's that?"

“Open it,” I implored.

He looked stunned. “This is for me?”

I nodded. “I wanted you to have something special. A piece of me. To show my love.”

He unwrapped the package with infuriating care, like each corner held sacred meaning. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grabbing it out of his hands and ripping it open for him.

When he finally peeled back the paper and stared at the small box, he froze.

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