Page 48 of Xara and the Xenobeast

He did. Stars help him, he did. It burned in his blood like molten metal, this need for her that went beyond physical desire. It terrified him how much he wanted her—not just her body, but her smile, her laugh, her fierce intelligence. Her kindness.

She leaned closer, and his sensory tendrils brushed against her face, mapping the contours of her cheekbones, the softness of her lips. She shivered but didn’t pull away.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “I’ve never been afraid of you.”

She should be. She should run from him, from the monster they made him to be. But instead, she moved closer still, until he could feel the warmth of her breath against his chest.

“Look at me,” she commanded softly.

He did. Her eyes held no fear, only a hunger that mirrored his own.

Her hand came up to cup his face, her thumb tracing the edge of his jaw. “I want you,” she whispered. “All of you. Even the parts you think are too dangerous to show me.”

Something inside him fractured at her words. A wall he’d built long ago, brick by painful brick, began to crumble.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a question. He remained still, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. Then she pressed forward, deepening the contact into a true kiss.

The beast inside him roared to life.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him with barely restrained strength. His mouth moved against hers, no longer passive but hungry, devouring. His tendrils wrapped around her, seeking skin, warmth, connection.

She made a small sound of surprise that quickly melted into a moan of pleasure. Her hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, tangling in his tendrils in a way that sent sparks of sensation down his spine.

He growled low in his throat, the sound rumbling between them. She answered by nipping at his lower lip, a small act of defiance that made him want to both laugh and pin her beneath him.

“Yes,” she breathed against his mouth. “That’s it. Don’t hold back.”

But he had to. Even now, with desire clouding his mind and her soft body pressed against his, he maintained a thread of control. His hands trembled as they roamed her back, her sides, learning the curves of her through the thin fabric of her sleeping clothes.

She grew bolder, her hands exploring the ridges of muscle across his chest and abdomen. When her fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his pants, his breath caught.

“Xara,” he rasped, the sound of her name strange on his tongue after so long in silence.

She froze, her eyes widening. “You spoke.”

He nodded once, unable to find more words. It had been years since he’d used his voice for anything but growls and battle cries.

A smile bloomed across her face, radiant and joyful. “Say it again,” she urged. “My name.”

“Xara,” he repeated, the word feeling right in his mouth. Like it belonged there.

She rewarded him with another kiss, this one fierce and claiming. Her hands resumed their exploration, pushing his pants down over his hips. He helped her, kicking the fabric away before turning his attention to her clothes.

He removed them carefully, one piece at a time, revealing her skin to the firelight and his hungry gaze. Each new expanse of flesh made his pulse quicken, his control fray further.

When she was finally bare before him, he paused to simply look at her. She was beautiful—soft curves and warm skin, so different from his own hardened form. She didn’t hide from his gaze but met it boldly, her chin lifted in that stubborn way he’d come to adore.

His tendrils reached for her, stroking along her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts, across the soft plane of her stomach. She shivered, her eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

“More,” she whispered, reaching for him.

He obeyed, lowering his body over hers carefully, bracing his weight on his forearms. The first touch of her bare skin against his sent a shock through his system. His tendrils wrapped around her more firmly, securing her against him as if afraid she might vanish.

She arched up, pressing herself more fully against him. The heat of her core against his hardness nearly undid him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, letting her scent fill his lungs and calm the storm inside him.

Her hands roamed his back, tracing the ridges of old scars, the map of his survival on this hostile world. There was no disgust in her touch, only reverence.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she confessed, her voice a breathless whisper against his ear. “Wanted you.”

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