When she kissed him, she didn't stop.
Not when he trembled under her hands.Not when he melted into her mouth, into her skin, into the bond that wrapped around them like chains spun from wildfire and silk.
Not even when he gasped, hoarse and broken, "You ruined me."
Annie only smiled against his lips—dangerous, devastating—and whispered back, "Good."
Then she kissed him again.
Deeper.Slower.Like she was carving her name into the ruins of him,branding herself into every broken, beautiful piece left behind.
Malvor had never—never—felt anything like it.
Not obligation.Not expectation.Not lust wrapped in duty.
This was possession.This was want.This was a holy desecration of his soul.
Her mouth moved down his throat, dragging her teeth lightly over the frantic pulse hammering beneath his skin.A bite.A lick.A kiss.
Soothing, claiming, relentless.
Her hands roamed his wrecked body with reverence and mischief—skimming over his ribs, pressing into his hips, stroking the trembling lines of his thighs.
Each touch set off a thousand fires under his skin.
And through the bond—gods, the bond—
She flooded him with everything she felt:
Hunger.Adoration.Wild, reckless, giddy joy.
Mine, the bond whispered.Mine. Mine. Mine.
It wasn't a request.It wasn't a plea.
It was truth.
Malvor sobbed softly against her mouth, the sound ripped from somewhere too deep for pride or thought to survive.He couldn't hold it back.Couldn't slow it.Couldn't want to.
She moved lower—pressing open-mouthed kisses down his ribs, across his stomach—and every point of contact blazed through the bond, reverberating like echoes in a cavern he hadn't even known he had inside him.
When she finally wrapped her hand around him—steady.Commanding.Cruel in the most beautiful way—
he choked on a sob, his hips jerking helplessly into her grip.
"That's it," she purred against his ear, her voice a sinful caress."Let go for me, pretty boy."
He was gone.Already gone.
Wrecked.Undone.Utterly, beautifully ruined.
But she wasn't done.
Annie stroked him slow and deliberate, the perfect torture.The bond between them thrummed tighter with every desperate twitch of his muscles, every whimper he couldn't swallow.
She kissed her way back up his body, every brush of her lips sending shudders through him—until she was hovering over him again, smiling like she had created him just to destroy him.
"You're beautiful when you break," she murmured, dragging her mouth over his temple, his cheekbone, the line of his jaw.
He whimpered—high and broken—and the sound hit her like a prayer.
She shifted her hips just slightly against him, pressing closer, holding him there in the heat of her body, in the wreckage of their bond.
When he finally came—gods, when he broke—
it was with a desperate, helpless cry—his voice ragged, shaking—his body arching up into her, every muscle snapping tight with need.
He called her name and his own—wrapped in velvet and sweat—a wrecked symphony of pleasure and surrender and something terrifyingly close to reverence.
The bond shattered wide open between them, flooding them both with unbearable heat, unbearable light, unbearable everything.
He sobbed against her mouth as he fell, as he emptied himself into her hands, into the bond, into her.
And Annie—
Annie didn't let go.
Not when he trembled.Not when he whimpered, gasping her name like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.Not even when he sagged into the bed, utterly wrecked, like all the bones had melted out of his body.
She kissed him through it.
Through every aftershock that wracked his frame.Through every broken, beautiful sound that tore from his throat.Through every desperate grasp of his hands in the sheets—because he couldn't hold onto anything else anymore.
And when he finally went still—wrecked, open, breathing like a man who had survived drowning—
Annie pressed one final kiss to his forehead.
Soft.Sealing.Blessing.
A brand invisible to the eye but burned into every fiber of his being.
He was hers.And he knew it.
And gods help him—he didn't want it any other way.
The bond between them buzzed, molten and alive, singing sweet, dangerous songs neither of them could ever silence now.
Malvor lay there, blinking up at the ceiling, barely able to breathe, his body humming with overstimulation and something deeper.
Something permanent.
Annie curled against him, smiling against his skin, still wearing a little of that wicked, devastating grin—but now tempered with something softer.Something terrifyingly close to tenderness.
And Malvor—chaos god, king of mischief, breaker of realms—could only lie there and marvel at the simple, staggering truth.
He had been claimed.
And he had never felt freer.
They woke tangled in silk sheets, legs knotted, limbs sprawled, breath soft in the morning quiet.
Malvor stirred first.
He blinked, groggy and far too warm, cheek pressed against a mass of red hair that absolutely did not belong to him.
It took his sleep-fogged mind a few seconds to process the shape of the person curled beside him, against him. Her back pressed firmly to his chest. Her body, his favorite form again. Annie. Her.
A soft, contented noise rumbled in his throat.
He tightened his arm around her waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
Mine, the bond purred. Mine.
"Mmm," Annie mumbled, voice muffled into the pillow. She stretched like a cat, the movement rubbing her backside right against him.
Malvor let out a strangled noise. Gods, she was trying to kill him. But he would die happy, with a smile on his face,r ight down to the hells themselves.
"Morning, Mally," she whispered, voice all rasp and smug amusement. She still hadn't turned around. She didn't need to. He could feel the smirk in her tone.
"If this is a dream," he muttered, wrapping his arm tighter around her waist, "I will smite whoever wakes me up."
She hummed again, deliberately wiggling. He groaned against her skin.
"Still think I'm terrifying?" she teased, all innocence and sin.
"I am convinced of it," he said solemnly, nuzzling into her neck like a drowning man clutching a lifeline.
"You seduced me looking like me. Do you understand how psychologically damaging that is?"
Annie just laughed—low, delighted, genuine. The sound warmed something deep in his chest. Something dangerous.
"You are most welcome," she said sweetly.
He grinned into her hair. "Annie, my heart, my chaos twin, my beautifully unhinged mirror..."
He pressed a kiss to the top of her spine, voice dropping into something softer, reverent."Next time, let's try it with less ego death."
She reached behind her without looking and patted his thigh, utterly unrepentant. "Next time, you can be the pretty one."
He chuckled, brushing his fingers lazily down her spine with theatrical affection.
"You, Annie," he purred, voice a low rumble against her skin, "are the other side of my chaotic coin. One half trickery, one half truth. One side fire, the other fury. Together..."He kissed her shoulder. "Utterly priceless. Absolutely volatile. And guaranteed to ruin someone's day."
He paused, eyes dancing. "Hopefully Aerion's. Again."
Annie snorted softly, but shifted back into him—trusting, warm, his.
They stayed wrapped up like that, unmoving, breathing in sync.
For once, neither of them needed to speak. No jokes. No bravado. No walls.
Just warmth. And skin. And the deep, bone-deep contentment of belonging.
And somewhere, deep in the castle, Arbor dimmed the lights just slightly—because even the house knew:
this moment deserved to last.