Page 20 of Dark Shaman: Eternal Hope (The Children Of The Gods #100)

ELUHEED

E luheed often wondered about the memories stored in the walls of rooms, well lived or ill lived, for that matter.

Had Tamira's room recorded the soft thud of his boots when he set them by the wardrobe?

Or the beautiful sound of Tamira's laughter in rare moments of levity?

Did it know where he kept a knife under the mattress?

And what about the pouch of dried lavender that sat on Tamira's makeup table and filled the space with calming aroma?

The mattress, for sure, stored the shape of them together—the perfect fit of their bodies, the way their souls connected in the middle.

They were alone, the door bolted, the night lamp turned low, but the walls had hidden cameras, and it was a form of art to make love while pretending the watchers weren't there.

Thankfully, the four-poster bed had curtains that afforded them some privacy, but the sounds of passion couldn't be muffled by the sheer panels of fabric, and staying silent proved impossible.

Tamira lay on her side, facing him, hair spilling dark and heavy over the pillow.

"Are you with me?" she asked softly, her palm resting on his chest.

He pressed his hand over hers, holding it there, heartbeat to palm, a steady drum. "I am always with you. Even when I'm not."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes searched his. "You seem distant. Are you still troubled by the memory of touching the enhanced soldier?"

She always saw him so clearly. "It shook me, and the effect lingers, but I'm here with you now." He let her see the memory recede as he focused on her face, her mouth, the deep blue of her eyes.

"Then take off your shirt," she said.

He obeyed without question.

Tamira had already taken care of most of the buttons, and it was the work of a moment to free the last remaining two.

As the fabric fell from his shoulders, she placed her warm hand on his skin and stroked him from collarbone to sternum, tracing a pattern down the line of muscle that had borne the weight of stones and the heft of trees and had rarely experienced such a gentle touch.

She leaned in and kissed his mouth. He tasted salt and the ghost of the fruit she'd eaten at dinner and the particular sweetness that belonged to her alone.

He deepened the kiss gradually, drawing it out until he felt the last of the day burn away in the heat of her, until his mind was filled with the simple miracle of a woman opening up to him because she wanted to, because he had earned her trust, because she loved him.

He cupped her face and kissed the corner of her mouth. "Do you want me?" he asked, a ritual that was never rote.

"Yes." Her voice was low and sure. "Always and everywhere."

He traced her profile with his fingertips, the arc of her cheekbone, the slope of her jaw, the soft place under her ear where her pulse ran, and as he slid his hand down the column of her throat, she arched into his touch.

He tugged at the tie at her shoulder, and the silk loosened, the gown sliding down and pooling at her waist. He paused, looking his fill.

He did this every time, worshiping the body of his goddess.

"You are so beautiful," he said, and the words rang true because they came from his heart, his mind. They were not the hollow compliments men showered women with as a form of seduction.

Her mouth softened. "Come here, my love."

She was careful not to call him by his true name even when they were alone, but he wanted her to own everything that was his. "Say my name," he murmured against her lips. "Own me."

Her breath hitched. "Eluheed," she whispered. "My Eluheed."

"Always." His hand covered her breast, gentle at first, thumb circling until her nipple tightened beneath his palm.

She shivered, and he did it again, pressing a fraction harder.

Her hand slid to the back of his neck and held him close while he kissed down her throat, over the slope of bone, across the rise of her chest. He carefully took the swollen peak between his lips, then a little less carefully when she arched and pushed more of it into his mouth.

"More," she whispered, and he obliged, mouth and hand working in unison.

As her fingers dug into his shoulder, his breath became unsteady, the ragged sounds she made stoking something primal in him. He loved that he could undo her like this, coaxing pleasure from her with such ease. Her body was so responsive to his touch, so eager for it.

He lowered himself, kissing the line of her ribs, the hollow of her belly, the soft curve where her thigh began.

She spread for him without hesitation, confident in what she wanted and accepting of his offer.

He breathed her in, that warm musk that was hers alone, and a sigh escaped him before he could stop it.

She caught the sound with a smile and slid her fingers into his hair.

He nuzzled the inside of her knee and felt the tremor move through her.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he said, and when she didn't answer right away, he lifted his head to look up her body at her face.

Her eyes were dark and clear. "You know what to do," she said. "Don't stop."

The command in her voice was an aphrodisiac.

He parted her with his thumbs and put his mouth on her, tasting, learning yet again the precise patterns that made her gasp and the angle that pulled a breathy curse from her lips.

He had memorized her responses over the course of their time together, but he was mindful of not treating her like a schematic he'd learned and followed blindly.

Each time was like a new beginning, and each time he paid attention to the subtle changes in her mood. Tonight, her body wanted a slower rhythm at first, a coaxing, and then a hungry push into speed that made her thighs tighten around his ears and her heels drag at the sheets.

He rode that change with her, responsive, relentless when she asked it wordlessly with her grip in his hair.

When he eased two fingers inside her, her head tipped back, and a sound escaped her that would have carried if not for the overhead fan's steady swallow.

He curled his fingers just so, and her hips lifted.

He then stroked again until he felt her begin to climb.

He kept the pace even as her muscles fluttered around him, even as his own desire threatened to crest before it was time.

He wanted her to go first because he loved the way it remade her, the glow that came over her skin, the looseness that meant she would take him without him having to modulate his hunger.

"Elu—," she began, cut herself off because saying his name out loud was dangerous, then abandoned caution. "Eluheed—yes?—"

He smiled into her, tasted the sharpness of her readiness, and did not stop until she took what she wanted. It came on a long, shuddering breath as she bit the back of her wrist to keep the sound in.

She went tight around his fingers and trembled against his mouth, and he stayed with her through it, easing when she needed him to, pressing when her body begged for that last, exquisite push into release.

When the tremors softened, he kissed the inside of her thigh and breathed her in again.

She threaded her fingers in his hair and tugged. "Come here," she said in a voice roughened by pleasure.

He slid up her body and kissed her slowly and deeply, letting her taste herself on his mouth. She made a delighted sound and bit his lower lip, a sweet sting. He settled over her, careful on his forearms so he wouldn't crush her, but she hooked her leg around his hip and pulled him closer.

He pressed the head of his shaft against her and closed his eyes, steadying himself with the taste of her kiss.

She was slick, hot, and yielding, and as he slid the first inch, the sharp blast of pleasure nearly undid him.

He exhaled and opened his eyes to look at her face, then eased forward until he was fully seated.

The perfection of their fit undid him every time.

It was like they had been created for one another.

Her hands smoothed down his back. "You feel so perfect inside of me."

He drew back and slid in again, a measured stroke that found the angle he knew she liked most. Her breath hitched.

He did it again, a little deeper, adjusting the tilt of his hips until he felt the catch inside her that meant he had found it.

He set a rhythm then, deliberate, grounding, each thrust stronger than the last.

She met him, body rising to his, never passive. She learned his timing and then played with it. He buried his face in her neck and breathed her in, that wild little smile curving against his jaw as she moved.

"Look at me," Tamira whispered, and he lifted his head.

She held his gaze, deep blue eyes wide open. He felt naked in a deeper way than skin, deeper than he had allowed himself to be exposed in a thousand years, and he loved her for demanding everything he had, everything he was.

He changed their angle, shifting her knee higher against his side, and she cried out as he hit that place inside that made her shake. He did it again and again, steady, tender, ruthless in his determination to give her everything.

The bed groaned under them, but he ignored the sound. Let the watchers look and listen and covet what they would never have.

Heat climbed, coiling at the base of his spine, insisting on being released.

He drove slower to hold it at the edge and felt her respond, her body taking him deeper, little muscles inside gripping him in pulses that made his vision blur.

When her fingers slid down to where they joined and circled that most sensitive spot on her body, he bit off a curse and lost a measure of control.

He thrust harder, and she made a noise that was a better reward than any medal or accolade he could have ever won.

"Now," she gasped, and he obeyed her again, letting go of restraint.

He pushed into her with a rougher rhythm, the slap of skin against skin quickening, the strain in his muscles making him quake.

She came first, a sudden convulsion that locked him inside her, her mouth open, breath caught, eyes open and wild.

The sight and feel of it dragged him over the edge. He groaned into her mouth and spilled deep, hips jerking as pleasure tore through him.

For a long moment, he couldn't do anything but breathe.

Her hands moved on his back, soothing, stroking lines across muscles that had gone tight with effort and sleek with sweat.

He eased his weight down carefully, chest to chest, heart pounding into her palm where she had slipped her hand.

He kissed her shoulder, the hollow of her throat, the sweat that had gathered at her hairline.

She laughed softly, breathless and pleased. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make each time better than the last?"

"It's not me. It's you."

They lay tangled, catching their breath, the room settling around them. Eluheed felt himself soften inside her, the leisurely slide as his body began to relinquish its claim, but only temporarily.

They were immortals, and one time was never enough.

He kissed her again and rolled to his side, bringing her with him, keeping them joined a few heartbeats longer before slipping free. She made a noise of protest and then curled into his chest, leg thrown over his hip possessively.

"Tired?" she asked teasingly.

"I just need a moment."

They drifted on the edge of sleep, not ready to cross. He traced slow circles on her back and let his mind wander aimlessly, which was a mistake. The swirling abyss of the enhanced ones' shared consciousness surfaced, threatening to pull him into its vastness.

"Tell me about the ocean of minds," she said as if she could read his thoughts.

He tensed, and she noticed, her hand soothing him. "You don't have to."

"It's vast and tempting," he told her. "It promises connection and offers drowning. I don't want it in here with us."

"It's not here," she said. "You left it outside the door."

"I did." He imagined doing exactly that, leaving the memory of that connection outside the door.

When their breathing slowed again, she tipped his chin up with two fingers. "Ready for once again?" She smiled like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and did not intend to accept no for an answer.

Eluheed laughed. "Greedy."

"For you, always."

He moved down her body again, learning the new map of her afterglow, which was softer, more fluid.

He drew another climax out of her with his tongue and fingers and watched the heat rise under her skin.

When she pulled him up with a strong hand and guided him inside, he went easily, their bodies finding the path faster this time, slick and sure, heat exchanging, breath mingling.

He set a lazy rhythm at first, then switched them around and let her ride him, her palms pressed to his chest as she took what she wanted, pace building, hair wild, a queen remaking the night.

He came with her again, slower, deeper, both of them groaning into each other's mouths, the pleasure this time a heavy tide that lifted and set them down in perfect tandem. He held her hips until the aftershocks eased, then tugged her down to lie flat against him.