Kane’s hand fisted in her silver-streaked hair, pulling her head back. He spun her again so her chest pressed to the wall, yanked the wrap up over her hips, and lined himself up against the slick entrance of her cunt.
The head of his cock, still trapped behind the fabric of his trousers, rubbed directly over her swollen clit and the dripping folds beneath.
Lira pushed back hard, trying to force the contact deeper.
"Do it," she snarled over her shoulder.
"Stop teasing and fuck me. I’ve earned it by carrying the bloodline that produced the female you’re so busy claiming."
Kane’s free hand gripped her hip hard enough to bruise.
The heat, the scent, the leftover violence of the night, and the aggressive offer all stacked on top of each other.
For one long, dangerous heartbeat, he was ready to shove the fabric aside and take exactly what she was demanding.
Then something cold and clear cut through the haze.
He stopped.
His hand stayed locked in her hair, body still pressed against her back, cock still hard and throbbing against her, but he no longer moved.
"You’re not yourself," Kane said, voice rough but steady.
"This is the cycle talking. Not you."
Lira froze for half a second, then tried to push back harder.
"I know exactly what I’m offering. Don’t you dare decide for me—"
Kane released her hair, stepped back hard, and put clear distance between them in one clean movement.
The sudden loss of contact left Lira braced against the wall, wrap still hiked up, breathing ragged, the scent of her frustrated heat pouring off her in waves.
She turned, eyes flashing with anger and humiliation.
"You refuse me? After grinding against me like that? After putting your mouth on me?"
"I stopped."
Kane’s voice was flat.
"That’s the entire point. Go back to your mate. Let him handle the rest of the cycle the way he always has."
Lira yanked the wrap back into place with sharp, furious movements.
Her heavy breasts rose and fell hard.
The look she gave him was pure, wounded pride mixed with the lingering burn of heat denied at the worst possible moment.
"This cycle isn’t finished," she said, low and venomous.
"And neither am I. Next time I won’t ask so politely."
She turned and strode back toward the main house without looking at him again, silver-streaked hair swinging, the scent of her arousal and anger trailing behind her like a banner.
The door of the main house shut harder than necessary.
Kane stood alone in the pre-dawn grey for a long moment, still half-hard, the taste of her skin still on his tongue, the refusal sitting heavy but clean in his chest. He exhaled once, slowly, and finally looked toward the guest-house doorway.
Griselda stood there.
She had been awake the entire time.
Her wings were half-open, the faint scent of her own lingering arousal from the earlier night still detectable underneath the stronger wave Lira had left behind.
She said nothing.
Kane stood in the grey pre-dawn light just inside the guest-house doorway.
Griselda remained where she had been, yellow eyes steady on his face.
The scent of Lira’s denied heat still lingered in the air between them like a third presence.
"Don’t tell it to Kessa," Kane said.
"I won’t."
They stood there without speaking for a full ten minutes.
The compound stayed quiet. Somewhere in the main house, a door closed softly.
Neither of them moved.
Kane’s gaze dropped once, almost against his will, to the full shape of Griselda’s breasts beneath the simple wrap she wore.
They were as large as Greta’s had been, round, dense, the kind of weight that would fill both hands and spill over.
He had known that for a long time.
He had never acted on it.
There had always been another fight, another claim, another reason to leave the fallen angel untouched.
Or perhaps he had simply needed her clear-headed more than he had needed her under him.
Now Grieselda’s power had returned, and her status as an angel was no longer in question.
The old excuse had thinned.
He looked at her properly.
"Do you get some sort of attainment if we fucked?"
Griselda’s answer came without hesitation.
"Nothing except pleasure. But pleasure can be used to feel good. Not everything has to be for power. Even angels want pleasure too."
The words settled between them.
Kane stepped fully inside.
The door closed, and the air in the small room felt tighter than it had when he left.
Griselda didn’t wait for another question.
She crossed the short distance in two quiet steps, wings opening just enough to frame her shoulders, and reached for him.
There was no tentative testing.
She pulled his mouth down to hers in a direct, open kiss that carried months of withheld want.
Kane answered it at once.
His hands found her waist, then slid higher, mapping the full, soft weight of her breasts through the thin fabric.
She made a low sound against his lips when he squeezed.
They didn’t undress each other slowly.
Griselda shoved his trousers down just far enough.
Kane dragged the wrap from her body in one motion and let it fall.
Her breasts settled free, pale, heavy, the dark nipples already tight.
He filled both hands with them, thumbs dragging across the peaks, and she arched into the touch with a sharp inhale.
The contrast to Kessa’s firmer, striped body was immediate and stark.
Griselda was softer in the chest, fuller, the kind of lush weight that moved when she breathed.
She pushed him back toward the empty side of the wide bed.
Kessa still slept on the far edge, one arm thrown over her eyes, breathing deep and even.
Neither of them looked toward her yet.
Griselda climbed onto Kane’s lap, straddling his thighs.
She reached between them, guided the thick head of his cock to her entrance, and sank in a single unbroken motion.
She was already wet, had been since the earlier night, and the scene outside had only made it worse.
The slick heat of her cunt closed around him fully.
A low, controlled sound left her throat.
Kane’s hands locked on her hips.
"You’re tight."
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