Seriously... the night was on fire, but not just because of heat or passion—it was the kind of night that rewrote the body's limits, the kind of night that lived on in the flesh and memory like a sacred burn.
Aether kept going, over and over again... but no, it wasn't just about lust anymore.
It had evolved into Hunger.
This was the hunger of Ashara Nightfire—an unquenchable craving born from decades of starvation and silence. And tonight... she was finally fed.
Aether poured himself into her without restraint, holding nothing back. His love, his essence, everything he was—he gave it all.
And Nightfire took it all in with a greed that didn't even try to pretend it was shy. She sucked every drop out of him like her body had been made to absorb him, consume him, drink him down until there was nothing left but his will to keep going.
