Damien collapsed to one knee, chest heaving, the searing mark Lucian carved into his skin still smoking. But it wasn't agony in his eyes.
It was hunger.
He looked up at Lucian, a crooked smile tearing across his face.
"You didn't mark me to protect Kyrell," he said through gritted teeth. "You did it to claim us both."
Lucian stepped forward, every line of his body forged in restraint and fury. "No, Damien."
He bent slightly, grabbing him by the jaw.
"I marked you to remind you that what's mine cannot be stolen."
Behind them, Kyrell stood stunned, heart lurching at the raw violence, at the way Lucian's voice vibrated with ancient command.
And beneath that—something deeper stirred.
Something that had always belonged to Lucian.
"Lucian…" Kyrell's voice was low, and it pulled him back—just enough.
Lucian turned, his eyes softening, only slightly, as he stepped toward the one man who had undone centuries of control.
Kyrell met him halfway. Their foreheads touched, breath shared. The air around them shimmered—not with magic, but with longing denied too long.
Lucian's lips brushed against Kyrell's. "Are you ready?"
Kyrell nodded, voice nearly breaking. "Yes. Prove a point, But this time… not for the world to see. Just for him".
Lucian's mouth crushed into his.
And the moment the kiss deepened, the world around them bent.
Clothes were torn—not just with hands, but with desperation. Kyrell's back hit the ancient altar, and Lucian's body followed, lean muscle pressed to trembling skin.
Kyrell gasped as Lucian's fangs hovered just at his collarbone.
"Lucian—"
"Tell me to stop," Lucian whispered.
"I'd kill you if you did."
Lucian sank his teeth in, and Kyrell arched with a cry that was pleasure wrapped in pain. Blood bloomed between them, sacred and damned. Their bond flared—twin flames folding into one.
Kyrell grabbed Lucian's hair, dragging him up into another kiss, their mouths slick with blood and need.
"You're mine," Kyrell said, panting. "They can't take you from me."
"They never could," Lucian growled, flipping him with one fluid movement. Kyrell moaned as his bare back hit the cool marble, legs wrapping tightly around Lucian's hips.
What followed was not gentle.
It was claiming.
It was centuries of denial erupting into primal heat—thrusts that echoed through the ruins, moans that belonged only to gods. Lucian bit again, this time lower, deep on Kyrell's inner thigh.
Kyrell cried out, nails clawing at Lucian's shoulders, his body trembling under every wave of pleasure. "Don't stop. Please—don't stop."
And Lucian didn't.
He didn't stop until they were marked in sweat, in blood, in devotion older than memory.
Until the night bowed to their union.
Until Damien, forgotten in the corner of stone and flame, turned away—broken by what he could never have.
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