"Ric..."
Alaric's breath ragged from his chest.
His eyes burned, wild with possession, grief, obsession, insanity, all tangled in the love he couldn't cage.
Then he crushed his mouth to hers.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tender.
Daphne gasped against him, her fists pounding his chest once, twice...before curling into his tunic and pulling him closer, as if she loved him too much to ever let go.
Her back pressed harder into the carved bedpost as his hands gripped her waist, his body pressing her to him, desperate, claiming.
His lips tore from hers only to growl against her skin, over and over, a mantra he couldn't stop.
"Mine," he swore at her throat.
"Mine," he breathed into her hair.
"Mine," he vowed against her lips again, the word almost a prayer, almost a curse.
Her tears burned hot between them, but his kiss was fire.
"Then trust me," she gasped between breaths. "Trust that I am yours. Only yours."
But his storm did not still.
