Page 67 of Wake the Dream

His name spurred him into action. A soft gasp rewarded him when he slid home. That first exquisite melding of their bodies threw him into a tailspin.

“Relax.” Illaria settled as she accepted him. Then moaned when he buried his head at the hollow of her neck, biting down softly.

He waited for her body to adjust to his size. Her pulse raced beneath his lips. Then Kieran lifted one of her legs toward his shoulders, making sure she relaxed completely before pushing inside of her again. He buried himself until his hips met hers and then withdrew. Buried himself again, repeatedly, building the heat between them with each powerful thrust.

And with each stroke, he stoked the fire inside of him, the magic, until it filled him as completely as he did her. His erection fit within her to perfection. The friction undeniable, it devoured him, swelled inside, coaxed him closer to orgasm.

He reared back to see her watching him with narrowed eyes, although her expression had become soft. It held joy, care. Longing. And something more, an emotion he hadn’t seen in another’s eyes for a long time. Since his life changed at sixteen.

Kieran saw love. Genuine, unadulterated love.

Illaria’s nails dug into his forearms as his hips surged forward. Her body moved against his in rhythm with each strong, sure stroke, each deeper than the last. The friction and heat they created forged them into a single being. A single flame. He stroked his tongue along her skin with his need building.

The urgency in him should have been surprising. Instead, he held her closer, wanting and not wanting to lose control.

All those empty nights alone, all the times he threw himself into work in an attempt to prove himself...something had been missing. Illaria had been missing. She put him back together and filled the gaps.

The delicate ecstasy of her body had him moving faster and harder. Her muscles clenched around him, and his body spiraled higher until his own explosion ripped through him.

She became a haven in the storm as sensation rocked his body. His hips pumped a final time before Kieran collapsed, lying above her, careful to keep his full weight from crushing her. His body locked within hers.

He loved the way she clutched at him. As though she’d been moved in the same way. She completed him.

Later, with the moon high in the sky and peeking around the edges of the closed drapes of his windows, he lay with her in his arms, her braid twined around his wrist and his fingers stroking a rhythm along her arm.

“What do we do now?” she murmured, snuggling closer.

“Now I guess I should get that vampire out of my trunk and see what he knows.”

Kieran hated bringing business into the bedroom. However, he knew Illaria appreciated his honesty. His forthrightness. He refused to pull any punches with her.

“We wouldn’t want him to burn to a crisp when the sun rises.” She shifted enough to catch a glimpse of the clock. “We still have a few hours.”

“You should get some sleep.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Let me do this alone. We’re going to have a big day ahead of us. We have a vampire to interrogate. And more than a dozen forms to fill out for the slaughter of the hive.”

“You killed them all?”

“Every one of them.”

She snuggled closer. “Tell me more, hot stuff.”

She slept fitfully until minutes before dawn when Kieran brought in the vampire from his trunk and situated the prisoner in his living room. The creature didn’t have much to say, knowing for a fact he wasn’t on the Hedgehill Marsh census.

He wasn’t known in any town. A rogue. A transplant. Or newly made. He was surprisingly closed-lipped about it.

“This isn’t the one from the club,” Illaria noted the second Kieran secured him to one of the metal chairs, making sure to keep the silver and stakes nearby.

“I made a mistake, okay? I was in a killing haze.”

“Then he had better start talking if he wants to live.” At once, Illaria had one pale hand wrapped around the vampire’s even paler neck before Kieran had a chance to stop her. “Tell me about my sister.”

The vamp glared at her, his face pristine. Whatever injuries he’d endured had healed during his stint in the trunk. Lucky bastard. Or maybe unlucky, considering the creature didn’t understand what kind of pure, primal power Illaria wielded, even without her magic. “Who?”

“My sister, Yelena. She wanted towake up. I know you know what I’m talking about.” Then her voice dropped soft and low, her expression bland, yet it held a kind of cool anger that was predator. “Don’t think you can get one over on me, asshole. Your little friend showed me the grape.”

Impartial and deadly.

He knew one of those to be a lie, but the vampire didn’t, and the glint in his eyes told Kieran that the vamp knew something, hid something. And no amount of force would be able to shake it out of him.

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