In Her Skin

Ari's POV

Finally. Control. It's been far too long.

I can feel her clawing in the back of our mind, trying to scream, but I block her out.

No! Don't you do it! It's not fair. That's MY BODY! I need to stay pure for my mate. I don't even know if he is our—

Click. Silence.

Just enjoy, little sister. Feel everything. This is my turn now. OUR body will be fine—I'll make sure he takes good care of us. After all, he's mine. Always has been. You just didn't want to see it. But I do. I feel it in every breath he takes near me.

Without hesitation, I reach up and grip Dion's jaw, surprising him, and pull him into a kiss—fierce, unapologetic, and full of possession. Our lips crash like fire and fury, his mouth meeting mine with an intensity that steals my breath. He doesn't pull away. No—he answers with his own hunger.

Our kiss deepens, turns greedy. There's nothing gentle about it. Lips pulling, biting, tasting. It's not just a kiss—it's a declaration. He is mine. Not hers. Mine.

I can feel him everywhere—his hands moving with slow confidence, his fingertips brushing along my waist, finding purchase at the hem of my tunic. His thumb grazes the side of my breast, and I sigh into his mouth, barely able to contain the pleasure that pulses through me. Heat builds low in my stomach. Goddess, how I've craved this. I've felt it in the background for years, simmering behind her fear and doubt. But now—now I get to live it. To feel it in full color.

When he breaks the kiss, his lips trail down the column of my neck. "You feel different," he murmurs. "Your energy—it's darker. Sharper."

"Because I'm not her," I whisper, voice low, throaty with desire. "I'm Ari. Her twin soul. I don't care what she wants. I know what I want. I want you."

His eyes flash. "You've been hiding."

"No. She's just been pretending I wasn't real." I smirk and step closer, running my hand along his chest. "But you see me, don't you? You feel it, too."

He growls softly, an approving sound, before capturing my lips again. And this time, I melt into it fully. There's no hesitation. Only the storm.

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. "You don't even flinch when I get too close. Not like she does."

"Because I want the closeness," I say, breathless. "I want all of it."

His hand slides to the back of my neck, anchoring me in place. The other glides over my waist, then dips just enough to tease the hem of the tunic. "If I'm to give you all of me, I need to know you can handle it."

I raise a brow. "Try me."

He laughs, low and wicked. "You'll regret saying that."

"Doubt it."

He closes the distance once more, and it's like we're magnets drawn by ancient energy. His lips trail lower now, brushing over my collarbone, then lower still. I barely register when he slips the thin straps of my tunic from my shoulders. The cool forest air kisses my skin, but it's his gaze that burns.

I arch into him, offering more, wanting more. "You said Fey can feel their mates."

"I did." He brings his mouth close to my ear. "And I have. Since the moment you entered the clearing. But it wasn't her I felt…it was you."

My heart skips. Of course it was. I knew it.

She may be the body, but I'm the soul he was meant to find.

"I've waited lifetimes for you," he murmurs. "And I won't let you run now."

He presses his forehead to mine. I close my eyes, letting his warmth wash over me, letting myself finally have what I've always been denied—freedom. Power. Desire.

"Do you trust me?" he asks.

"Yes," I say without hesitation.

He inhales, his hands steady on my waist. "Then you have to know—I can feel the struggle inside you. The tearing. The war. She won't stop fighting."

"She never does." I open my eyes, gaze steady. "So teach me how to fight back."

A slow, reverent look washes over his face. He lifts his hand and gently touches my cheek. "I will. But first, I want you to remember this moment—before things change. Before the war begins."

I nod. "Make me remember."

And he does. Not with violence. Not with dominance. With control. With reverence. He holds me like a secret, kisses me like a prayer. He doesn't rush. Doesn't demand. Instead, he shows me what it means to be seen. Fully. Deeply.

When we finally pull apart, I'm trembling—not with fear, but with power. Something has shifted.

He sees it too.

"You're waking up," he says quietly.

"So is she," I whisper.

He nods. "Then we don't have much time."