Elian's POV
*****
The room still smelled of sweat and sex when Elian finally peeled his face away from the sheets.
His chest heaved, every breath shaky, his limbs heavy and useless. He felt like his body didn't even belong to him anymore—like Kyren had carved his claim into his skin with every thrust, every growl, every kiss.
Kyren hadn't moved far.
He sat back against the headboard now, his bare skin glistening in the crimson glow of the chandelier.
His eyes were still molten, though calmer, his expression unreadable as he reached for a goblet of wine on the bedside table. He downed half of it in one drag, then set it down, his gaze sliding toward Elian.
"You should drink," Kyren muttered, handing the goblet to him.
Elian pushed himself upright with a groan, still trembling. His thighs ached, his ass felt sore in a way that would probably make him wince for days, and his throat… gods, his throat.
He accepted the goblet anyway, sipping slowly to wet his raw voice.
