They stood across from one another, the silence between them far more deafening than any cry of passion. No layers, no masks, no thrones or crowns to obscure them. Just man and woman, bared in the vulnerable honesty of flesh and soul.
Merrick did not posture. He made no grand show of masculinity, no flourish of kingly might. He simply stood, regal without pretense, his stance open and inviting. And in his stillness, he offered Caralee a rare gift: not the vampire king, not her ancient sire, but the man—Merrick. And as her gaze wandered, taking in every sculpted inch of him, his body began to respond with primal urgency.
The tension in the air grew dense, electric, every breath thick with need. His arousal became unmistakable, the evidence of her effect on him rising with slow but undeniable fervor. He felt her gaze drop, linger, and widen. The look of astonishment on her delicate features was more potent than any flattery. Her lips parted, slack with awe, and the blush that blossomed over her porcelain cheeks made his chest swell with masculine pride.
Merrick smirked, a slow, wicked curve of the mouth. His eyes narrowed slightly with amusement and something far darker beneath.
Such a wicked little minx. So brazen. So utterly shameless. She ogled him without apology, with no effort to disguise the carnal hunger sparking in her eyes. Not the shy composure of a debutante, but the raw honesty of a woman whose body knew what it wanted.
He raised a single brow at her, thinking,
Tsk, tsk, little princess. One might get the wrong impression.
But inside, his restraint was fraying. Every passing moment he throbbed with longing, every muscle coiled with the need to close the space between them, to take what was his. To claim her.
Then, it changed.
The air itself shifted.
Merrick's smirk faltered. He felt it before he saw it. A sensation—no, a presence—pressed upon him, brushing over his skin like the brush of a lover's fingertips and the weight of a thousand prayers all at once.
Golden light.
It began to emanate from her like an inner sun, pulsing outward in delicate yet powerful tendrils of sacred energy. Whips of brilliance flickered from her form, trailing like comet-tails in slow, elegant arcs. His breath caught.
What in the name of the Ancients?
Her aura—no longer dormant or accidental—was awake. And growing. And calling to him.
He took a single step back out of instinct, stunned. The aura did not retreat or attack. It rippled toward him in concentric pulses, each wave washing over him in heat and hunger and yearning. They struck like waves against the shore of his senses.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Each pulse stronger than the last, pressing not to dominate, but to summon. There was no command, no demand. Only longing. Willing. Wanting.
Caralee's face had changed. Gone was the wide-eyed awe; in its place stood something more profound: intention.
She was no longer lost in instinct. She was choosing. She knew.
She was calling to him.
Not just with her eyes, or her soft, trembling lips. With her soul. Her essence had reached for him and pulled.
Merrick felt every atom of himself respond. The man, the vampire, the king, the beast—all bowed in silent reverence. Here stood his queen.
In the next breath, he vanished from where he stood and materialized before her. His arms wrapped around her with desperate need, and her gasp tickled against his ear. She blushed, glorious and sweet, and he crushed his lips to hers.
It was not a kiss of tenderness. It was the kiss of a man unraveling. The kiss of centuries of patience torn away in a moment of sacred surrender.
When their lips finally parted, Caralee trembled.
Merrick scooped her effortlessly into his arms. Her weight against him felt like destiny. He carried her to the bed with reverent care and placed her atop the silken covers as if laying down a treasure upon an altar.
He joined her slowly, not to consume, but to worship.
His lips found her brow, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. He kissed her mouth again, softer this time, then down her neck, eliciting a breathy gasp. He continued downward, lips mapping the terrain of her body: her collarbone, her chest, lingering at her breasts where he took his time teasing each delicate peak with the gentlest flicks of his tongue.
Caralee writhed, her back arching, her body pleading.
Still, he did not rush. He traveled lower, worshipping every inch with lips, hands, and breath.
When he reached the tender, trembling place just below her belly, she instinctively tried to close her legs. But Merrick let out a low, primal growl.
"No," he rumbled. "Let me see you."
She obeyed, trembling as she opened herself to him. He praised her with a rough murmur, "Good girl."
His hands caressed her thighs, then gripped her hips, pulling her gently toward him. He kissed the inside of each thigh, each kiss slower and hotter than the last. Her moans grew soft, musical.
When at last his lips found her core, she moaned aloud. Loud and unguarded. Her body shook.
Then—
A kiss. A deep, claiming kiss upon the most sacred part of her.
She gasped, eyes flying open, breath catching in her throat. He gazed up at her once, wickedly pleased.
"What in the world?" she whispered, stunned.
He said nothing.
He dove back in, tongue swirling, teasing, claiming. Her hips lifted. Her fingers threaded into his dark hair. Her cries became louder, less coherent.
And just as she crested the edge of her ecstasy, his hand joined his mouth. Two fingers, soaked in her arousal, slipped inside her. Her body reacted instantly, tightening around him, convulsing.
She broke.
"Oh—my—OH!" she gasped. "Yes, oh—oh—YES!"
Her voice echoed off the stone walls, wild and breathless. Her legs trembled, her body spasmed. Waves of pleasure crashed over her in violent, breathtaking succession.
He held her as she trembled. Wiped his mouth. Crawled up beside her.
She curled into him, a shivering little flame, burying her face into his chest as her breath came in stuttering waves.
He looked down at her, eyes half-lidded, utterly drunk on her. A wide smile crept over his face, and he kissed her hair.
Content. Complete.
His queen glowed beside him, sacred power still humming in the air, and for the first time in centuries, Merrick felt peace.
But deep within his ancient heart, another fire had been lit. A fire that knew: this bond was only the beginning.