Dear God Rodel, may the day come when I can be reborn; may You grant me a life whose purpose is not war; may You give me the chance to know Selene in that new world. Dear God, forgive my selfish requests; forgive Selene for the cruel words he spoke against You.

Selene’s mischief had faded over the past few days. Now, there was only that heavy aura that seemed to weigh upon his shoulders, yet despite it, being beside him was far too pleasant. I did not understand. Even though I allowed him to touch me because the blood staining me had always stained him as well, something else persisted. I desired him more than I had ever allowed myself to desire anyone, though I had not initially been attracted to him.

I had admired him, and I still did, but I did not know when that admiration had transformed into the desire for something more. I did not want to offer us a relationship—not under these circumstances—so I remained convinced that we were making a mistake. Selene believed it too. His words had made that clear, yet something stronger than either of us continued pushing us toward one another. Something reckless enough to drive him to wish harm upon our gods—upon our God.

And so, despite his kisses, I prayed for him to be forgiven and for me to be given, one day, the chance to “love” him properly. My prayers made the moment feel more intimate. In truth, I wondered whether Selene was doing the same. For several minutes now, he had done nothing but kiss my lips with a passion that crushed my heart. He tormented my throat with teeth that sank fiercely into my flesh. He greedily sucked and licked my nipples until they became red, swollen, and sensitive.

My hand disappeared into his hair, and he growled like a beast unaccustomed to being caressed. In moments such as these, Selene resembled an animal far more than a man. I had begun to notice his many deviant tendencies: the way his hand remained locked around my throat with carefully measured strength, though I knew he was capable of tightening his grip to keep me from escaping. There was violence in him, and I could feel in every movement how hard he fought to control himself.

He pierced my flesh as well, sometimes deeply enough to draw blood. It was not healthy behavior, and I knew that if anyone ever discovered it, they would consider him dangerous. Yet his deviance made me shiver. I loved watching him struggle to resist, to protect me, to preserve me, and I loved trying to push him past his limits, just as I had when I wounded him in return during our kiss. His attraction to me seemed to have become an obsession. Even I did not desire him with such intensity.

But oh, how I loved it. If he was a deviant, then so was I. No one needed to glimpse the darkness he had concealed so carefully, and I would never betray him. Never.

He was not a danger to me. One only had to see how patient he remained. Even as he tormented those small buds of flesh which, despite the pain, begged for his attention, he kept his hips carefully away from mine—his desire away from my own. It intoxicated me with pleasure, almost more than the exquisite torment of his teeth upon my nipples.

Almost timidly, I slid my hand across his bare chest. He was powerful. His stomach was carved with strong muscles that tightened with each ragged breath. He trembled beneath my touch when I caressed him. He became still and hissed, then buried his head against my neck, which remained held within his hand. With the tips of my fingers, I traced the contours of his muscles and reveled in every shiver. He was sensitive—or perhaps… I made him sensitive.

Driven beyond reason by my own excitement, I slipped my hand into his trousers. I moaned into the hollow of his ear when his hot, throbbing flesh met my palm. I could hardly believe I was sharing such intimacy with someone. It seemed to please him, for his hand tightened around my throat. It unsettled him as well. I saw it in the way his eyes plunged into mine. Beneath that concealed violence lay something else: a naïve innocence toward what he was feeling.

I had never experienced such passion because I had always denied it to myself, but what of him? So bewildered, he seemed suddenly so young that I regretted touching him so quickly. I tenderly kissed his lips while my palm moved slowly over his erection. My gentleness contrasted so sharply with his brutal fervor that it was almost laughable. With a strange fondness, I watched his lips part soundlessly, his gaze fixed upon mine as though searching for answers he could not find; his gasping breaths; the way he finally pressed himself against me.

“Selene, may I give you pleasure?”

He did not seem to understand what I meant. He must already have believed that he was enjoying himself, but I wanted more. I needed more. So I gently pushed his hand away, ensuring that he would not mistake it for rejection, and buried myself against his neck. I returned the devastating kisses he had given me. My tongue explored every inch of his mouth. I kissed him relentlessly and delighted in the shivers rising across his skin. Unable to hold my throat any longer, his hands clutched my hair instead.

I dared to trail kisses along a path I had never followed upon anyone before, so intimate was it. His body beneath my lips was a precious treasure. Kneeling before him, trapped between his body and the tree behind me, I felt far more naked than he was, so completely did I surrender myself to him. With my head held between his enormous hands, I felt trapped, but never endangered.

His eyes could not leave me, nor could his mouth close. As a Duke—and, moreover, the Bloody Vicar—the people admired me with a devotion that sometimes turned into obsession. I had long since lost count of the number of people who had crossed boundaries with me. I knew obsession. I recognized it.

Nothing I could ever do would disappoint Selene, because in his eyes, I was everything he desired. It was not narcissism to say so, but a truth I could confidently claim after experiencing such fixation so many times. The difference was that I trusted Selene. I trusted this man who restrained himself for my sake. He had said that he loved my innocence, that it drove him mad, yet the uncertainty I saw in his eyes was equally overwhelming.

My desire for him twisted my stomach. Beneath my attentions, his grip upon my head grew stronger, while I reveled in the scent that reminded me so deeply of consanguines. It overwhelmed my senses.

With him, I was rediscovering sensuality and desire. I explored the pleasures of the flesh anew, and it was wonderfully good. Selene moaned and clung to me. I did not know whether the others could hear him, but I found him so beautiful, so enticing. His head was lowered so that he could watch me, tilted against his shoulder. His lips glistened with saliva, and an expression of debauchery adorned his hard features, made youthful by the discovery of these sensations.

“Anela, I…”

He growled, and his nails dug into my scalp before he caught himself. Once again, he placed my well-being before what he desired. The gesture moved me. I placed my hands over his and encouraged him to tighten his grip, to do as he wished. Without a word, he understood my request and obeyed.

I was overwhelmed by him, so completely that it became painful, and he knew it. Yet I did not ask him to stop. Because it was Selene; because amid the pain and brutality, it felt good. Selene was good. In so many ways, Selene was delicious. Delicious to savor; delicious to admire. His dark eyes, the strands of hair clinging to his forehead, his lips were delicious. His neck, his muscular body, his enormous hands were delicious.

“Fuck… My God, Anela, that feels so good!”

His hands slid beneath my arms as he lifted me as though I weighed nothing. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue, and I forgot how to breathe as I caressed it with my own. He could taste himself upon my tongue, and it seemed to please him, for he demanded more. He explored the inside of my mouth and flooded me with his presence through deep, languid kisses.

“Turn around,” he ordered in a deep voice.

I obeyed after one final kiss. I rested my arms against the massive trunk of the saune and allowed my head to fall upon them. Selene bit the back of my neck while he set about undressing me. A myriad of kisses was scattered along my back. My red shirt had been lying upon the ground for some time, granting him complete freedom to savor me. I dared not imagine what I would look like afterward—what I already looked like beneath his bites and the marks left by his mouth.

My heart raced at everything he did. My legs threatened to give way beneath the exquisite torment he inflicted upon me. Shivers traveled up my spine, and I arched my back, offering myself to him even more completely. He reveled in me, and I in him. The hungry sounds escaping him left me feverish.

Then, little by little, his kisses traveled back up my body. His mouth retraced the length of my spine until it reached the back of my neck, which he devoured. One arm closed firmly around my chest while his hand once again wrapped itself around my throat. I turned my head at his silent command and closed my eyes beneath his kiss. I could feel his desperation through it. He wanted more, immediately, with an intensity that seemed to terrify him. His confusion and pleasure mingled within a trembling breath.

I placed my hand over his and broke the connection between our mouths.

“I am not going anywhere without you,” I assured him. “Perhaps I will regret it later, but Selene… without you, I could not have endured this journey with the others for so long. You are the anchor that keeps me from drifting away.”

His forehead fell heavily against me, and a trembling breath escaped him. I watched the muscles in his jaw tighten as his eyes revealed, without restraint, the full extent of the despair dwelling within him.

“Do not say that,” he whispered.

I turned within his arms so that I could face him properly. His hands slid down my back, and he lifted my thighs to draw me against him. He sat upon the ground and settled me astride his lap, still appearing lost, yet utterly captivated by me. I placed my hands upon his cheeks while my knees sank into the spongy earth. I forced him to look into my eyes—not merely to admire me, but to truly see me.

“Look at me.”

Unsatisfied, I repeated myself until his gaze shifted into something more lucid.

“I am afraid too,” I confessed, “but I want you beside me. I do not want to die because I do not want to forget you, but I still want to continue this quest. I want to be in your arms, but I do not want to ache for them every time I look at you.”

I pressed my lips to his in a chaste, solemn kiss, filled with a sincerity that shook him deeply. Then, as we remained lost in one another’s gaze, something happened that I had not expected.

Selene began to cry.

Like a child who had held his sorrow inside for far too long, tears streamed down his cheeks. I brushed them away with my thumbs and gathered his head tightly against me.

“If… if anything were to happen to you, I do not know what I would do. I do not know what I might be capable of.”

I tenderly kissed the top of his head as his arms tightened around me. His tears soaked my neck and pierced my heart. I kissed his head again and breathed deeply of his scent. My own eyes burned beneath the weight of his sobs, but I shed no tears. I massaged his scalp and the back of his neck and remained silent. I understood him. Until now, although surrounded by our companions, we had crossed The Damned without ever truly considering what we might lose.

I had possessed my Triads, and I had loved every person who had formed them, but none of them could have compared to Selene. Not even Mara. The same was true for him. We were tormented by the thought that the other might be wounded—or worse. This journey differed from every other in countless ways. It was within that cocoon of warmth, naked against one another, that our desire slowly faded, overcome by something more powerful: affection and the need for one another.

“I could curse the entire world for you.”

His voice was terrifying. He was terrifying, for even within his grief, I could sense the madness lurking deep inside him. I believed him. I believed every word. I did not know what had made him so obsessed with me, but I promised myself that I would protect him. If I was the cause of such harsh and powerful declarations, then I would ensure that he did not allow himself to be consumed by them.

I held him more tightly against me.

“I am not going anywhere without you,” I promised.