Silas
The door had barely clicked shut behind him before he was moving—fast, silent, a shadow stretched thin against the dying night.
The first faint glow of dawn threatened the horizon, a warning more lethal than any blade.
He tasted her still.
Her sweetness clung to his lips, her heat lingered on his tongue. And gods help him, he wasn’t ready to let it go.
Before he could stop himself, his fingers lifted, still slick with the memory of her. He brought them to his mouth, his tongue tracing the evidence of her pleasure, and groaned low in his throat as the taste of her flooded his senses again.
It wasn’t hunger.
Not anymore.
It was something deeper.
A mark.
A brand burned into every breath, every ragged pull of air through his lungs.
His feet carried him through the trees before he could think, his coat flaring behind him like torn wings. The forest blurred around him—branches tearing at his sleeves, the frozen earth a blur beneath his boots—as he ran faster than fear, faster than the dawn.
And still…
He would have stayed longer.
Would have burned for her.
The image of her—laid out beneath him, flushed and gasping, her body trembling with every shuddering breath—was carved into the dark hollows of his mind.
His jaw clenched as his thoughts betrayed him, playing the memory back in agonizing detail.
How easily she had given herself over.
How sweetly she’d surrendered.
Hips lifting to meet his mouth, her head thrown back, lips parted in that perfect, broken cry when he dragged her over the edge again and again.
Gods…
He could almost feel her now—hot and slick beneath him, her thighs trembling around his shoulders, her voice a ruined prayer on his name.
A sharp, painful throb tore through him.
His cock strained against the confines of his trousers, hard and aching, every stride a maddening friction he couldn’t relieve.
He bit down hard, the sharp sting grounding him only for a moment.
There was no time.
And yet… his mind betrayed him again.
He saw her pinned beneath him, her wrists caught in one of his hands, her back arching beautifully as he pushed into her—slow, deep, devastating.
He would make her say his name like a curse and a prayer all at once.
Over and over until she forgot everything but him.
He stumbled, his breath coming sharp and uneven, a growl tearing from his throat as he slammed his palm against the rough bark of a nearby tree, splinters biting into his skin.
Not now.
The horizon was already bleeding pale with light.
He forced his body to move, to keep running, though every nerve screamed with the need to turn back. To find her again.
To finish what he had barely started.
The ache in him bordered on agony now, his thoughts a relentless torment of what he wanted—what he couldn’t have.
Not yet.
The cabin appeared through the thinning trees like salvation—or a tomb.
He reached the door just as the first blade of sunlight pierced the horizon. His hands shook as he wrenched it open, slamming the door shut behind him with a force that rattled the frame.
His forehead pressed hard against the cool wood, his chest heaving, every muscle pulled tight as a bowstring ready to snap.
And still…
His hand curled into a fist at his side, the memory of her heat, her taste, her voice—etched into his every broken breath.
Inside the cabin, the air was frigid, the stone walls damp and unforgiving. But even that couldn’t cool the fire raging through him.
He dragged in a ragged breath, forcing himself upright. One palm braced hard against the door. The other hovered uselessly at his belt, the ache between his legs a brutal, maddening reminder.
He wanted to tear the fabric away.
To take himself in hand and find relief.
But it would mean nothing.
It would be nothing compared to her.
And he had already sunk low enough tonight.
His jaw clenched until his teeth ached, his knuckles white where they gripped the doorframe.
This hunger—this desperate, wild need—it wasn’t just carnal.
It was a longing to be undone.
By her hands.
By her mouth.
By the impossible hope that, with her, he might finally remember what it felt like to be whole.
He let out a harsh, shaking breath, his head falling forward, the cold wood biting against his forehead.
Tomorrow.
Or the night after.
He would have her again.
And when he did…
There would be no restraint left to break.
No salvation left to seek.
Only the ruin of them both.