Page 65

Make Me …

Goddess. He’s really here with me. All the way with me.

He trails his lips over my jaw to kiss my neck behind my ear before gently tugging on the lobe with his teeth.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper.

“Me too, princess,” he says, a heaviness weighing in his voice that tickles over my skin. Regrets.

No more of those.

I turn my face to his, seeking his lips. Seeking the comfort of knowing that this won’t be taken away from us again. As need starts to layer within me, my hands find their way into the silkiness of his thick hair, where I clench and unclench my fists—not consciously, but because I can’t not.

His hands snake up to grab my wrists, stilling me.

“What?” I ask, and my vulnerability is there in that single word.

“You’re already driving me wild.”

I smile at the strain in his voice and the way he’s already breathing harder against me. Then I kiss him again with an underlying desperation that keeps threatening to steal the joy of the moment.

Don’t leave me again.

“Fuck,” he growls against my lips, filling the word with anger and self-recrimination. Did he hear my thoughts, or did I say that out loud? “Never. I never wanted to leave you.”

He’s kissing me again, swallowing the whimper of my relief and fear, gathering me closer in his arms.

Then he moves us, moves over me more to settle between my legs. A sigh escapes me at the simple pleasure of the weight of him. Our tongues tangle and slide and move, but I’m not ready to get there yet. The last time was so fast, so hot and heavy, I didn’t take the time to savor him. Savor us.

I missed this too much, missed just being able to kiss him. And maybe he feels the same, because the tenor of his touch turns languorous, as if he is drawing out every caress into a thousand moments to cherish.

He kisses me and I kiss him as my heart soars, and my mind and body narrow down the world until only we exist in this moment. Nothing else.

With one hand, he reaches between us and starts to inch my sleep gown up my legs, even as he doesn’t stop kissing me. Still achingly slow, still tender, still drawing out each touch until I’m quivering with anticipation. He finally reaches the bottom of the material, and his fingertips touch the skin of my thigh.

He uses soft brushes to explore, teasing and torturing me as he inches higher and higher, up to my hip, the dip in my waist, and all while kissing me in that burning, hazy, unhurried way.

And with every breath, I’m waiting and wondering. When…

He cups my breast under the material of the gown, teasing me with his thumb and I have to pull my mouth away, arching into his hand on a shudder of agony and pleasure.

I moan when he does it again, and he shudders against me, and then utters his own groan.

“Mereneith Evangeline,” he murmurs against my temple. I don’t miss the way he leaves off the XII. The only one to ever do so when using my full name. Like I’m more important in his eyes than the twelve who came before me. “What you do to me…”

“Likewise.”

I think he huffs a laugh, but I’m not sure because he’s gently tugging my gown over my head, leaving me with only the underclothes covering me. He removes those next, hands still gentle, and his gaze drinks me in with every inch of flesh revealed.

He does this slowly, too.

We’re both breathing hard by the time he stands up, and I think we both forget “slow” then. He strips his clothes fast and rough, then he’s back over me and I welcome the weight of him with a hum of happiness.

Nothing is between us.

If we have our way, nothing ever will be again.

I sigh, wrapping one arm around his neck. “I love you.”

He swallows hard. “I love you, too. And I promise—”

I reach between us to put my fingers over his lips and he hushes.

“I don’t need promises,” I murmur. “I just need you.”

After a long beat, Reven melts into me the same way I did to him. “You have me. You’ve always had me.”

He leans to the side a bit and watches as he trails one hand across my jaw, down my neck where he squeezes just slightly, and damned if my body doesn’t heat at that small, possessive display alone. Then he feels over my collarbone, down to linger at my breast, feathering and teasing until I’m surging against his hand, gasps tumbling from my lips.

Then he goes lower, to the shadow scar on my side. At first, he brushes over it lightly, but then his touch changes, and his gaze on me turns even more intense. Purposeful.

The darkness inside me changes, too, becoming fizzling, scorching heat, and without warning, sensation explodes inside me. I cry out as wave after wave of pure ecstasy washes through me.

By the time I come back to myself, floating down from the high, I’m wrapped in Reven’s arms, basking in his pleased smile.

Holy mother goddess of all things wanton and wicked. “Did you just…” I’m too impressed to put it to words even as I’m still incandescent from the experience. “Using darkness?”

He grins.

“That was…something.”

Which makes him laugh. “I should have been doing it to you all along.” He nuzzles my neck. “A terrific distraction for when you argue with me.”

I mock scowl at him, but then he’s moving. He presses into me, so slowly I’m squirming under him, but it doesn’t make him speed up. Not even when tension rides his shoulders and tightens his jaw. Even then, he moves with deliberation.

“Please, Reven. I need you.”

My words seem to snap what little control he has left, and he surges.

I remember this fire. Always there, even from the first time we came together—melted sand, red-hot, molten, and malleable—and he can form me into whatever he wants.

I was more than willing then. Now I’m his and he is mine so completely that to try to separate one from the other would be impossible.

Eidolon tried.

He failed.

This is a love that can’t be taken. Even if it can be forgotten, it can also be remembered.

Reven takes both my hands, lacing our fingers together, and pulls them up to either side of my face, holding me there as he starts to move.

His gaze never leaves mine, taking in every gasp, every widening of my eyes, and I never look away from him. I don’t want to.

In this moment, he is beautiful.

Stark, severe, and beautiful.

Pleasure tightens the skin across his cheeks and hardens his jaw with leashed control as he stokes a new wildfire within me.

And still, we never look away.

I hide nothing from him. From myself, either. I’ve been burying my love for this man for so long, until this moment when I feel safe enough and free enough to release it. His eyes widen, then turn bluer, fierce possession burning within, and lightness fills every part of me until I can’t stop smiling even through the pleasure, through every gasp, every moan, and every surge.

Sensation draws in tight, prickles down my spine and coalesces, firing up every nerve ending. This one isn’t instant, like before. Instead, sensation coils tighter and tighter before it ignites outward. I go up in a blaze that spreads, consuming every part of me, lighting up my soul as Reven groans long and loud, and I’m swallowing his passion, crying my own back to him.

Above him, the colorful lights cast by my glass flowers turn every nuance of the pleasure we give each other into magic. We hold onto each other through it all, like we should have always been able to do.

Gradually the rush slows and our bodies with it, sinking into each other, wrapping around each other. Reven drops his forehead to mine, and we stare into each other’s eyes, our bodies utterly fulfilled and our souls reconnecting.

The perfection of our coming together, the knowing that we have found each other all over again, the sheer relief is agonizingly absolute in a way that makes my belly tighten with fear.

Because if I lose him again, I’m done.

It would end me.

I cut those thoughts off ruthlessly, refusing to let anything ruin this moment. Our bond isn’t reformed, that much I can feel.

But we can take care of that later. Go through the ceremony again and start fresh.

As long as we both love, that’s the only thing that matters.