…their lips met.
Not a kiss.
More like a collision. Hard, hot, brimming with rage that never found its way into words. Silvara's teeth sank into Lucas's lower lip hard enough for the faint taste of iron to bloom on her tongue, then her tongue followed, forcing its way in, scraping and clawing like a cat rummaging through trash instead of hunting mice because its predatory instincts had long gone dull.
Lucas growled deep in his throat in response; his right hand instantly clamped onto Silvara's hip, then slowly, with effort, onto the upper cleft of her ass.
Their breaths mingled—hot, heavy, smelling of rain and earth and something far more feral.
Silvara broke the kiss; the dancing pose they'd held on the cave floor finally shattered.
