The night stretched endlessly, a blur of heat, whispers, and surrender. Lyra lay draped over him, her body limp with exhaustion, her breath warm against his skin.
Casian held her close, their limbs tangled, her heartbeat echoing softly against his chest. He could still feel the lingering rhythm of their connection pulsing between them.
He had pushed her to the edge and beyond and only stopped when she slipped into unconscious sleep, worn out and utterly spent in his arms. And yet, even now, his body reacted to her closeness, the remnants of his desire for her still simmering beneath the surface.
Casian felt... transformed.
Lyra hadn't just been a balm to his rage. She had been salvation. A quiet light filtering through the darkened windows of his soul. She didn't demand his heart, and yet somehow, she had it all.
It wasn't just about lust. It was something raw. Real. Alive.
And that terrified him more than anything.
