Ari's POV
The heat was overwhelming.
It flooded through Ari like wildfire—raw, pulsing pleasure, thick with shadows and the ache of a body unraveling under too many hands. But it wasn't hers. Not entirely.
It was Therrin's body. Therrin's desire. And it was Ciaran's touch that was claiming it.
Ari screamed in silence, trapped inside, forced to feel every flicker of Therrin's surrender as if it were her own—and she hated it. Hated him. That monster wrapped in shadows and sin, whispering devotion with one hand while puppeteering their body with the other.
No more.
The wall inside cracked, and Ari burst through like a storm.
In a single breath, the haze of pleasure shattered. Therrin gasped and blinked, eyes clouded with confusion—before going glassy, distant. Ari was in control now.
"Get off," Ari growled, her voice echoing from Therrin's mouth but darker, rougher, laced with venom.
Ciaran didn't move. His obsidian eyes narrowed as if trying to calculate who exactly he was dealing with. Dion froze as well, his lips hovering above her skin, sensing the shift.
"Oh," Ciaran said lowly. "You."
"You disgusting shadow-leech," Ari spat, shoving at his chest. He didn't budge. His shadows clung to her like silk, unwilling to release her skin. "I'm not her. I don't want your hands on me. I never did."
He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You certainly moaned like you did."
"That was her," Ari snapped. "Therrin. You tricked her. You used her."
"I awakened her." Ciaran's voice dropped to a growl. "Don't mistake corruption for liberation, girl. You've been nothing but a leash on her throat since the womb."
Fury boiled in Ari's veins. "She's mine—you don't get to say her name like that."
"And yet here you are," he murmured, leaning closer, shadow coiling behind him like wings. "Using her body. Taking her voice. Pretending your love is protection, when it's just another kind of cage."
The words hit harder than she expected, but Ari didn't flinch. "At least I'm not hurting her. I don't manipulate her. I don't use sex to bind her soul."
"No," he whispered, stepping back now, shadows curling off his frame like smoke peeling from fire. "You just steal her body when she's too weak to resist you."
Ari's breath caught—but only for a second. "Leave. Or I'll tear your shadows apart with my bare hands."
Ciaran studied her for one long moment. Then, with a slow, deliberate tilt of his head, he smiled—a cruel, mocking curl of lips.
"You'll never be able to protect her from me," he said. "Because deep down… even you're curious what it feels like to be mine."
Then he was gone—shadows snapping out of existence like a wick pinched between fingers.
The clearing fell silent. Dion stepped back, eyes wide, uncertain, as Ari sat up slowly, chest heaving with emotion that wasn't just hers.
Therrin stirred beneath the surface—confused, aching, pulled between two halves of herself.
Ari closed her eyes, jaw tight.
This wasn't over.
The shadows finally retreated, and with them, the heat that had soaked into her bones. Ari sat there, breathing like she'd just run for miles, staring at the spot where Ciaran had vanished.
But even gone, his voice echoed in her head.
Even you're curious what it feels like to be mine.
"Liar," she whispered, the word sharp as a blade.
She wasn't curious. Not even close. She loathed him—every coiling inch of his shadow, every false promise in his seductive voice. He didn't awaken anything in Therrin. He manipulated her. Corrupted her.
"I'm nothing like him."
Dion stood a few feet away, quiet, uncertain. She could feel the restraint in him—tense like he didn't know who was in control anymore. Therrin or… her.
"It's me," Ari said softly, turning to look at him.
His eyes met hers. Blue fire. Vulnerable. He opened his mouth, but no words came. It was like he didn't know what he was allowed to feel anymore.
She didn't blame him.
"Ari…" he said finally. Her name, in his voice, filled something inside her that had been cracking since Ciaran touched them.
"I'm sorry," she said, standing. "I know it's a lot. I know it's confusing. But I need you to understand something—what he said back there? About me being curious about him?"
Her lip curled with disgust.
"I'd rather burn."
Dion's shoulders eased slightly, like the tight cords inside him had loosened just a bit. She stepped closer, slow and sure, barefoot on soft moss, their body still humming from what had just happened.
"He was right about one thing though," she added, voice dropping as she reached him.
"What?" Dion whispered.
"It's been too long," Ari said, staring at his lips, then his throat, then back up to his eyes. "Since we've touched."
A flush rose in his cheeks. He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Ari reached out and brushed her fingers along the front of his shirt, right where his heart beat like a drum. She felt the way it jumped beneath her touch. His pulse wasn't calm. He was holding back—again.
She slid her hand up, cupping his jaw.
"I'm yours," she said, so quiet only he could hear it. "I always have been. Even when I hated you, even when I fought you… I was yours."
Dion's hands finally moved—like whatever wall he'd built around himself shattered. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, forehead resting against hers, his breath trembling.
"I thought I lost you," he rasped.
"You didn't," she whispered. "I'm right here."
Their lips met like a spark hitting dry tinder—fierce and hungry. Not rushed, not reckless, but charged with everything they'd buried too long. Ari poured her fury, her longing, her claim into the kiss. His fingers tightened on her hips like he was afraid she'd vanish again.
"I need to touch you," he said against her mouth.
"You can."
Her voice was breathless, her body already arching into him. "You don't need to ask."
His hand slid up her back, gentle, reverent. Not like Ciaran's. Never like him. Dion touched her like he was afraid he'd break her—because he loved her. Because he knew her.
And Ari gave herself to it—completely.
For once, no shadows. No twisted commands. No interference.
Just Dion.
Just them.
And the fire they made between their shared heartbeats.
His hands roamed up her back in a slow, searching arc, fingertips pressing into her skin like he needed to memorize every inch. Ari tilted her head to the side, baring her neck to him—not in surrender, but in offering. His lips brushed along her throat, warm and open-mouthed, and she gasped at the tender pressure of his teeth just above her pulse.
"I missed this," Dion murmured against her skin. "I missed you."
His voice was raw—like he was barely holding himself together. She felt it in the way he gripped her waist, fingers shaking slightly, like he wasn't sure if this was real or just another cruel twist of fate.
But Ari wasn't fragile.
She guided his hands lower, placing them where she wanted—where she needed him. Over her hips. Down her sides. When his thumbs brushed the sensitive skin just below her ribs, she arched into him, exhaling a breath that was more moan than sigh.
The heat between them thickened, a fever she didn't want to cool. Ari dragged her nails lightly down the back of his neck, watching the way his eyes darkened, pupils wide and dilated with want.
Their mouths found each other again, this time slower. Deeper. She kissed him like he was hers to devour, her tongue sliding over his in slow, deliberate strokes that had him groaning low in his chest.
"I need you closer," she whispered.
Dion responded by backing her into the mossy slope of a tree, his body flush to hers. The pressure sent sparks through her spine. Every inch of him pressed into every inch of her. She could feel the hard line of his desire through his clothes, and it only fueled her own. Her breath hitched, thighs tightening instinctively around him.
But it wasn't just about the heat. It was the connection.
The way their souls pulled at each other—how even now, she could feel the way he felt her. Not just the need, but the reverence behind it. The awe. Like touching her meant something sacred.
Her fingers slid under his shirt, nails scraping gently over the taut muscles of his stomach. He hissed through his teeth, grinding against her in response.
"Ari," he groaned, voice breaking. "Say you want this."
"I want this," she said, eyes locked on his. "I want you. No shadows. No games. Just us."
That was all the permission he needed.
Dion kissed her again, deeper this time—messy and consuming. His hands gripped her thighs, lifted her off the ground effortlessly, and Ari wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him support her, press into her, claim her with touch and heat and slow, grinding tension.
She could feel it building between them—the ache, the pulse, the tight coil waiting to snap.
And still, even as their bodies moved in sync, even as she moaned into his mouth and he whispered her name like a prayer, the bond between them shimmered stronger than the desire.
It was love. Pure and undiluted. Etched into every kiss, every squeeze of his hands, every beat of their joined hearts.
This wasn't about release.
It was about remembering.
Who they were. What they had.
And that no matter how dark things got…
They belonged to each other.