Taming the Beast: 10. The Second Descent

The silence was unbearable.

Ciaran stood like a storm about to break, shoulders taut, fists trembling, eyes fixed on her with a hunger that burned hotter than fire. Elodie could feel it in the air—the pull, the inevitability. Every word they had spoken, every confession they hadn’t meant to give, had dragged them to this moment.

She didn’t move. She didn’t have to. He snapped first.

Ciaran closed the space between them in two strides, slamming his mouth against hers. The kiss was brutal, desperate, as though he was trying to silence the truth she’d forced out of him. His hands fisted in her hair, yanking her head back, exposing her throat to his teeth.

Elodie moaned into him, her nails digging into the ridges of his scarred shoulders. There was no hesitation, no room for thought. Her body remembered him, craved him, welcomed every rough edge of his hunger.

“Say it again,” he growled against her neck, biting hard enough to leave marks.

“What?” she