She’d been dying, gasping that final breath. He’d seen enough people die to know when the Grim Reaper would be called. And he’d known Lucien would soon be called. Lucien would have heeded the summons, too, no matter how hotly Strider protested. He would have taken Kaia’s soul to the afterlife, as his demon, Death, required. Knowing that was about to happen, Strider had fallen straight into bat-shit crazy land and pulled a Gideon.

He’d married his woman.

He’d recalled how Gideon had raved about slicing himself, then slicing Scarlet and combining their blood. The old-school way to get hitched. The action had bound their lives, their souls, and Gideon’s strength had become Scarlet’s. So Strider had done it. Sliced himself and then Kaia. The moment the blade had sunk into the sensitive flesh between her breasts, she had erupted, thrashing, the fires starting all over again.

A little of his skin had melted—like, the top half of his body—but that had been a small price to pay for her life. He’d already been her consort, but he’d added a little…spice to the relationship. Made them equals. Partners. And gods, the knowledge just about felled him.

Mine, he thought now. My wife. Always.

With every climax Kaia had, Defeat became a little more confident in his ability to tame her. A little more possessive of her. Like Strider, the bastard had realized she would never purposely hurt him, that winning her—something no other man had ever done—was one of the greatest victories of their existence.

Bastard was also pouring pleasure straight into Strider’s veins and it was almost more than he could bear.

“Strider,” Kaia moaned, her sweet, curvy ass wiggling as he once again slowed his thrusts. “Please.”

The snow continued to fall, an exquisite storm he saw but didn’t feel. His woman was too hot. A heat he welcomed, adored, craved…hadn’t known he needed. Heat now represented Kaia, pleasure and satisfaction. A potent combination. He’d probably sport an erection all through the summer.

“Have you learned your lesson?” The words were practically ripped from his throat, his need causing his voice box to constrict.

“Yes.”

Leaning down, he pressed his chest into her searing back, the ridges of her spine creating the most delicious friction against his flesh. She murmured her approval. But much as he, too, fancied this new, deeper contact, he didn’t stay that way. He wound his arms around her and lifted them both so that they were on their knees, hers inside of his.

His aching cock never slid free of her and she hit the root of him. Her head fell to his shoulder, the length of her silky hair tickling him between their bodies. He moved one hand to her breast, the beaded pink nipple peaking from between his fingers. He moved his other hand to her wet, wet core.

“Damn you, move harder!” she commanded, her movements uncoordinated now. “Faster.”

“No. Tell me what you’ve learned first,” he demanded, keeping himself still. He didn’t brush her clit, just teased the sensitive, swollen bud with his nearness.

She growled. “That I won’t hurt you by losing control during sex. FYI, I learned that about five climaxes ago, you bastard.”

“Hadn’t realized you were such a quick study.”

“So why aren’t you moving? I will hurt you if you don’t finish this!” That growl was sharper by the second. Her claws sank into his thighs as she said, “I swear, I’ll finish myself and leave you to rot.”

A rough chuckle left him. So impatient, his woman. Thank the gods. He wouldn’t have her any other way.

“I love you,” Strider told her. Before she could reply, he angled his head and meshed their lips together, his tongue driving against and rolling with hers. He gripped her hips and forced her to ride him, burying his cock as deep as it could go with each downward thrust, impaling her, then almost leaving her with each upward glide.

When that wasn’t enough, he pressed his thumb against the sweetest little spot on earth. She was so small, so tight, he knew he was nearly too big for her. Perhaps that should have made him take care, but she was strong and she could take anything he meted out. So he meted out a lot, hitting her hard and fast. The kiss never ended, never slowed, and he loved that they tasted of each other’s passion.

One of her hands lifted, those nails next digging into his scalp. “Strider,” she gasped, pulling from his lips. “Yes. Yes.”

Such a sweet benediction. His muscles quivered with the depths of his need. His bones ached. Had to…needed…would…damn it! He’d held his release back for so long, he couldn’t quite breech the resistant wall he’d erected.

He hammered at her, hips pistoning, and when that didn’t work, he dropped to his side, the ice barely noticeable, taking her with him, moving her top leg over his and spreading her as wide as he could.

Harder…harder still…but release continued to elude him. He was becoming desperate, sweating so much the ice melted and pooled beneath him. His fingers dug into Kaia’s hip with such might he knew bruises would form by morning.

She moaned and groaned and whimpered. And when she cried, “I love you,” as she broke apart, shattering, her inner muscles clenching at him, he realized that was exactly what he’d been waiting for, what he’d needed. Her declaration.

He, too, broke, her body practically ripping the seed out of him, the hot jets shooting inside her. Bright lights winked behind his eyelids, his roar echoing through the night.

When he’d emptied himself out long moments later, he collapsed beside her. She was shaking. Not from cold, but from exertion. He was too weak to smile and bang his chest with the force of his pride. His woman—his wife—was pleased.

“Did you mean it?” he managed to ask, sleep tugging at him as surely as she had.

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes.” Her voice was delicate, exhausted.

“About damn time.”

“Oh, just shut up and afterglow with me.”

Okay, so he wasn’t too weak to smile after all. “You gonna sleep? For real?”

“Try and stop me.” She yawned and burrowed her head into the hollow of his neck.

“You trust me to protect you?”

Several minutes dragged by in silence.

“Kaia?”

“What?” she murmured sleepily.

“Do you. Trust me. To protect you?”

“Of course,” she said. Her eyes were closed and within minutes, she was sagged against him, completely lost to the sweet kiss of slumber.

Of course, she’d said. As if she hadn’t made him sweat about the answer. He dredged up the strength to carry her back to the tent, where he held her tight, all night, swearing to the gods he would never let go.

KAIA WAS STILL REELING over Strider’s absolute possession of her body two days later when they reached her sisters. They had their heads bent over their weapons, sharpening the tips and preparing for the third competition.

She and Strider hadn’t made love again and they hadn’t discussed their feelings for each other. A courtesy on his part, she knew. She had to remain focused, her eye on the prize. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to kidnap and torture Juliette for information about the Paring Rod. Which, Strider had told her, was apparently all too real and not the fake they’d been hoping for.

And there was no time to do so now, either. The journey from Alaska to Rome had eaten up her chance. While Juliette was now within her reach, the game would be starting in half an hour.

Bianka noticed Kaia when she glanced up to find her polishing stone. “Kye!” Grinning, she jumped to her feet, her weapon clattering to the floor next to her bucket of water. She rushed over and gathered Kaia in a welcome embrace. “I almost killed Strider when he refused to let me see you, but I knew you’d disapprove if he got so much as a scratch.” A long-suffering sigh. “Thankfully, he’s been texting me daily reports, so I knew you were on the mend. But seeing you…”