A low thrum vibrated through the air, a raw pulse echoing the sudden surge within Metheea.
Her skin flushed, a prickling heat blooming from her core. It wasn't just power; it was a hungry ache, a yearning that twisted deep in her belly. She swayed, vision blurring as the chamber around them warped into a kaleidoscope of shimmering light.
Azrayel closed the distance in two strides, a predator scenting its prey.
His hands, warm and firm, found her waist, then swept her up. Her body, aflame, pressed against his, a furnace against solid rock.
A gasp tore from her throat.
His golden eyes, usually calm, blazed with an untamed fire, feral and possessive. He looked down at her, his breath catching, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
It was as if something ancient, buried deep within him, recognized the seismic shift in her, answering her awakening with its own primal roar.
