“Don’t hold back, aitanta,” he said, pulling out and shoving in to the hilt, again and again. “I want to hear every sound your body sings for me.”

With that, he let go, releasing the vise-like grip he’d had around his control, and letting it crumble to ash where their bodies connected. Clenching his jaw, he let his nature take over, bucking into her like a feral animal. He certainly felt like one. He couldn’t get enough, feel enough, taste enough.

His knees were screaming at him, the movements and weight of his body grinding his bones into the wood, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t even if he tried. He just continued rutting into her, one hand leaving finger-sized bruises on her hip while the other met back at her clit, moving in small, quick circles that he knew would break her.

As if on cue, her back lurched off the ground, and she cried out his name, carving bloody lines along his ribs. He snarled, satisfaction flaring so hot, spots danced across his vision.

“That’s it. Let them fucking hear you. I want everyone in this gods damn palace to know how deep I am inside you. To know you’re mine without even laying eyes on you.”

Sensing she was close, he thrust deep and rocked his hips up, grinding against that blessed spot. Then he pinched her clit, right as he flicked his tongue over his first mark on her shoulder, and she exploded.

Her body shuddered and convulsed around him, milking him until he had to clench his jaw and moan into her shoulder to keep from losing his load right along with her. She cried out, her words jumbled and incoherent until it sounded more like a new language than any he knew.

Her orgasm was like nothing he’d ever felt before, flowing through him until he couldn’t tell whether it was hers or his. And as the last wave washed through them, and her body slumped to the floor, something sparked to life in his chest.

Their bond.

It vibrated inside him so strong; he swore he could hear it humming in his ears, making its existence known and demanding he listen. As if he could ever forget.

Chest heaving, he stared down at the wide, silver eyes of the female beneath him, and for the first time in over fifteen years, he was whole. It was like he’d been living his entire life buried alive, ten feet underground, and had finally clawed his way out. To her.

He slowed his movements, continuing to move into her in deep, measured thrusts, treasuring the feel of her hands caressing his skin. She was finally his in every way.

It didn’t matter what happened. With his fathers, with Aleron, with the expectations of her title and what being her mate would mean for him as well. It didn’t matter that they’d spent more years apart than together, nor that she’d grown up human and, he, Magyki. None of it mattered.