Potent heat raced along her spine and filled her head. A noise of raw pleasure filled the space between them, but she couldn’t tell who’d made it. Maybe both of them. His thick arms cradled her, holding her steady as he set a slow, deep rhythm. Sparkling globes of light danced in her eyes, and when they cleared, all she saw was shimmering ribbons of power flowing into her. They connected them, joining them securely with no means of escape.
Not that she wanted any. Everything she wanted was right here, within arm’s reach, and all of it was a gift from Zach.
His mouth covered her nipple, sucking it into moist heat. Arcs of pleasure leapt to her womb, making her clench around his thrusting erection.
Zach growled against her flesh, the vibration causing a new riot of pleasure to swirl deep inside her.
The power of his body amazed her. The fluid clench and release of his muscles pushed her higher with every beat of her heart. Heat poured off of them, causing the air around them to pop and sizzle. Zach folded her knee up against her body, making room for his hand to snake between them.
The shift in position had him hitting a new, more sensitive spot. He slid his fingers through curls covering her mound until she felt his work- roughened fingertips glide along her slippery folds. With unerring accuracy, he cradled her clitoris between two thick fingers. The rocking of his body moved his hand just enough to make her insides tighten like a coiled spring. The exquisite pressure of his hand was perfectly calculated to force her to go where he wanted.
Lexi had no choice but to give in. She was so tired of fighting, so tired of nothing in her life being easy. Until this very moment.
Zach covered her mouth with his just as her climax crashed over her. All the tension inside her exploded out in a burst of light and sensation. It drained away only for a split second before slamming out of her again.
It was too much all at once. He overwhelmed her, destroyed her, made her whole.
Her muffled cries of release filled her ears and she felt Zach’s arm tighten around her. Another trembling wave of pleasure shimmered from her just as his erection swelled and pulsed inside her. The last gentle echo of her orgasm rippled out of her, making her tighten around Zach as he growled from the depths of his own completion.
Their breathing slowed as sweat cooled their bodies. Zach’s mouth was at her throat, giving her nibbling, sucking kisses she was sure would leave marks.
A satisfied smile stretched her mouth. Let him mark her. She didn’t care. She felt too good to care about anything other than the comforting weight of his body on hers and the protective circle of his arm, still clutching her hips, keeping them joined.
Zach shifted, giving her room to breathe, but not much. He held himself up on his elbows and stroked her hair away from her sweaty forehead. An odd, almost vulnerable look lined his dark face.
She wanted to comfort him, to give him whatever words he needed. But deep down, she knew that what he needed from her wasn’t words. It was actions. He wanted her to open herself up and let him in. Not just her body, but her mind.
How could she do that? How could she put that kind of trust in the hands of a man she had believed to be her enemy for so long?
Then again, after what they’d shared, how could she not?
It hadn’t been just sex. That was what she’d wanted it to be, but it was more than that. She’d seen how much he needed her—how vulnerable he really was to her whims. She had the power to crush him, to destroy his world with little more than a thought—will the luceria to fall from her neck and it would kill him—and yet, somehow, he trusted her enough not to.
That kind of trust was humbling. Life changing.
“You’re thinking too much,” he told her. “I must not have done a good enough job if you’re still able to think straight.”
Lexi gave him a smile and kissed the tip of his nose. “If you’d done any better, it would have killed me.”
An arrogant grin stretched his mouth, making his white teeth gleam in the dim light. “Care to give that theory a try?”
She couldn’t take any more intensity right now. She felt too brittle. Too fragile. “Rain check?”
“As many as you want, honey. Just say the word.”
His generosity made her shields crack more with every kind act. She wasn’t sure how he knew just which weapons to wield against her to make her crumble at his feet, but he seemed to have an instinct for it.
He pulled from her body, still as thick and hard as if he hadn’t come. But she knew he had. She could feel his semen seeping from her body, see it shining on the dark head of his penis.
They hadn’t used a condom. That was what she’d forgotten earlier.
The ramifications of that slip slammed into her, one on top of another until she could do nothing more than look at him.
Lexi had never even considered having a child. She’d never drag a kid across the country, living out of the back of her Honda, putting it in constant risk of being attacked and killed by monsters. Or, worse, taken like so many of the stories she’d heard over the years.
But things were different now. She had a home, and although she hadn’t yet fully accepted it in her head, in her heart, this place was hers. It was safe. She could raise a child here without worry, knowing there would be others here just like him or her. Her child would feel normal. Her child would go to school and play with other kids and have a real life.
A family.
She started to shake as the foundations for her entire life, her plans for her future shifted beneath her.
“What’s wrong?” asked Zach, panic tightening his words.
“I’m not on birth control.”
His hand slid over her hair in a comforting caress. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry. I can’t make you pregnant.”
“You can’t?” Shimmering dreams withered and went dim before they’d even finished forming.
“No. Our men are sterile. Something the Synestryn did to us.” Despite the gentleness of his hand, his words were short and curt. Bitter.
“I’m sorry.” And she was, but not only for him.
“Yeah. Me, too, but it’s ancient history.” He stood and reached a hand down to her. “How about we check out that new shower of yours?”
Lexi nodded. A shower sounded good. Distracting. She had too many things moving through her head right now. Too many questions. Too much confusion. Washing some of them away sounded like a great idea.
Angus found Gilda in the Hall of the Fallen. A low fire burned in the hearth, warming the room, making the polished swords of the dead warriors glow.
Gilda sat in a leather chair with a sword in her lap. The gray silk of her gown shimmered in the firelight, hugging her body and making him ache to slide his hands over her lush curves. It had been too long since he’d last held her in his arms and made love to her—nearly a week. She’d been distant lately, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to bring a smile back to her lips.
His failure grated over his nerves, stealing from him his usual steady patience and iron control. If she wouldn’t tell him what he could do to ease her, he was going to find his own way to help her—one he was fairly sure she wouldn’t approve of.
The large leather chair seemed to swallow her small body, making her look weak and vulnerable. Protective instincts honed over hundreds of years rose easily to the surface, quickening Angus’s step.
Her slender fingers ran lovingly over the blade. Their son’s sword—Angus recognized it now that he was closer. He knew every knick and scratch on the blade, every smooth spot worn down by his son’s strong grip.
Gilda’s dark eyes fluttered shut as she pulled a memory from the mirrored depths of the steel, reliving a moment of their son’s brave past. A single tear slipped down her cheek and she pulled in a sobbing breath.
“Gilda,” he said quietly so he wouldn’t startle her.
She lifted her head and the force of her beauty drove through him like a hammer’s blow. Every line of her face was perfectly formed, every curve exquisite. Even the fathomless depths of her black eyes drew him in and made him tremble against the need to touch her, comfort her.
Time had not altered her appearance much over the centuries. There was a maturity about her, though she had no wrinkles. Wisdom shone in her every move, though not one of her hairs had gone gray as his had. She was timeless beauty and unfailing loyalty.
Angus loved her so much, sometimes he was sure his heart would burst open under the strain.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he told her. “It’s not healthy for you to wallow in these memories.”
“They’re all I have left of him. A record of my mistakes.”
He took the sword from her hands and hung it back in its rightful place of honor. “Not all the mistakes made by our people are yours.”
“Our children have died, and there is no one to blame but myself,” she said.
“Sibyl still lives. And Maura.”
Gilda’s jaw hardened. “No. Maura is dead. Only her body lives on.”
Angus disagreed, but now wasn’t the time for that old argument. They both knew it too well. “What of Sibyl? She is back home with us. Safe.”
“For how long?” asked Gilda, staring into the fire.
“The wall is going back up as fast as we can manage.”
Anger tightened her full mouth, and Angus couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her smile. “The wall did not protect her before. It will not now, any more than you or I can. Her abduction proved that beyond doubt.”
“Hope is not lost. Don’t you see that?”
She stood and spun around, her gray skirts swirling in an angry arc. “You think just because a few female Theronai have come through our gates that all is well? Are you really that foolish?”
The barb stung, but he accepted the pain without complaint, forgiving her for it even as it left her mouth. He knew how much strain she was under. She was not herself—not the same woman he’d grown to love over the years, though he could love her no less, even if he tried.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that things are changing for the better. I prefer to live in hope than dwell in despair.” He pulled in a deep breath, steeling himself for the reaction he knew she would have at his next words. “Which is why I’m going to agree to allow Tynan to try to restore my fertility. He thinks he has a cure.”
Her body stilled and only her eyes moved. They narrowed to dangerous slits, seething with emotion too strong to name. Angus reached out for the connection of the luceria that bound them together, seeking to feel what was going on behind those eyes, but he met a hard wall.
She was locking him out. Refusing him.
Angus reeled in shock. She’d never once denied him like that. Not even when she was angry. Sure, he’d felt her pull back on her emotions and filter out the things she didn’t want him to feel, but never had she refused him so completely—never once slammed the door in his face like that.
Anger and loneliness choked him, but he refused to back down. “I knew my decision would bother you, but I had no idea how much.”
“Bother me?” she asked in a deceptively quiet voice. “You make a decision like this without even asking my opinion, and you think I’m merely bothered?”