Thor kissed her neck, her collarbone, the curve of her breasts, whispering molten words against her ear.

“You’re mine, Celina. Only mine. And tonight, I’m going to make you forget the world.”

“Thor…” she moaned, surrendering completely.

He made her feel powerful, desired, irreplaceable. His touch carried reverence and hunger in equal measure. She pulled him closer, gasped his name, bit her lip. Between them existed only skin, soul, sweat, and unspoken vows.

“You’re my home, Celina. You always have been. Since the first kiss. Since that hotel. I can’t live without you.”

They made love with fury and tenderness, with obscene words and whispered declarations, with body and heart intertwined. When pleasure finally consumed them—foreheads pressed together, eyes closed—Thor cupped her face and murmured,

“I’m yours. Body, soul, in life and in death. And I’ll spend every day proving it.”

Celina smiled, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“I already know. I’ve always known.”

That night, they redisco