For two days, he had been a warlord, a negotiator, a king of bandits. He had worn armor, spilled blood, and walked with death. But the moment his lips touched Seraphine's, all of that vanished.
The kiss wasn't gentle. It wasn't the tentative, testing kiss of their first night. It was a collision.
Seraphine threw herself at him, her body colliding with his chest with a desperate impact. Her hands tangled in his hair, her nails scraping his scalp, pulling him down to her.
She kissed him like she was trying to steal the breath from his lungs, like she was drowning and he was the only air left in the world.
Leo responded with equal hunger. He dropped his guard, his arms wrapping around her waist, crushing her against him. He lifted her off her feet, her legs instantly wrapping around his waist, locking him in.
He carried her to the bed, never breaking the kiss. They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs and frantic hands.
Seraphine broke the kiss, gasping for air.
