Page 81 of Luna's Forgotten Vow

My heart sinks at the sadness that overwhelms him and I seek him out, settling on his thigh. "Did you find her?"

He shakes his head. "She was gone before I could get to her. Couldn't find a trace of her."

After Ronan's funeral, Tova left. No one knows where precisely, but Soren's sources often get back with news of her in the human territories. Paris. Germany. London. Brazil. She never stayed in one place long enough to find her. We've been looking for five years.

"Maybe she doesn't want to be found," I whisper, searching his eyes. "She'll come around in her own time."

He nods, heaving a sigh. When he blinks, the weariness in his gaze is gone. He nuzzles my cheek. "You smell good. Sweet. Maternal." He kisses my cheek. "I love it."

"I'm still mad at you."

He grips my thigh, lifting me into a straddle. He breathes up my neck and hot breaths whoosh out my lungs as he purrs, "How mad?"

"Very," I growl, though my spine arches.

He laughs, twisting us and I am deposited at the bed's edge, Soren kneeling between my legs. Need blasts through me and I rest on my elbows, watching him roll up his sleeves diligently. "Is this your idea of an apology?"

His green eyes flash with hunger as he pulls me over the edge, raising either of my legs to rest comfortably on his broad shoulders. "That, and I'm starving."

Canines sink into the soft skin of my thigh and I jerk back—Oh. His tongue flattens against the surface, soothing. His nose pushes against the fabric of my panties, sniffing. Sweat breaks on my skin as heat crawls underneath it.

His teeth find the hem and he tugs at my panties. My hips arch off the bed as the lacy material rubs against my clit. There, I think. Right there.

As if hearing my thoughts, the fabric thins, sliding against me slit to clit. I moan, fisting the sheets. The feel of my clothes sliding against my skin is torture. The sheets underneath my ass feels like too much. I need him so much, it hurts.

His teeth snap from the lace and it smacks against my heat hard enough to hurt, but the moan that leaves my mouth is needy and hungry.

He tastes me then, takes his tongue through my most private parts and sucks on the wetness that he wrings out of me. He groans in approval and lavishes me in affection with his mouth.

And when my hips begin to move, my breasts begging for the same attention, he drops my calf, but not before kissing my skin. He enters me with one finger, a rattling sound echoing in his throat. Then a second. His moan echoes mine. Hungry. Starved. Then a third.

He strokes me. Slow, then hard. Soft, then hard. The burn makes me wild. I'm dripping down his fingers, he tells me. My pussy sings for him, he whispers, encouraging me to ride his fingers.

He doesn't last very long. He never does. I am barely getting off the first orgasm before he pounces on me, kissing me until we both cannot breathe, until I can only pant and take in more of his tongue, take in more of my taste off his tongue.

My dress rips. "It's already ruined," he whispers. "I'll buy you another closet."

I don't give a fuck about the clothes. I only care that he fucks me.

He hears my thoughts and gives me precisely what I want. He traps my hands above my head and slams home. "Sera, the baby kicked."

EPILOGUE II

TOVA

I'm pretty much homeless.

Not penniless, no. Ronan had way too much wealth to burn through in five years. Or ten. Or fifty.

Alcohol no longer does it for me. Nothing works. I see him everywhere. He follows me. He talks to me. He blames me. He hates me. He curses me. To die, forever alone, never loved, never seen.

The shot of tequila tastes like poison. A necessary one. If I could catch even five minutes of reprieve from the voices in my head, I would be very thankful.

I grab the next shot, but a warm hand covers mine.

My gaze travels up to meet muted teal ones. "That's enough."

I blink rapidly to clear my sight. I lean imperceptibly to sniff at the male. Broad shouldered in an exquisite black suit, crisp white shirt, intricately patterned tie that chokes his neck so tight, I wonder how he can get a single breath down. Pure silver glints at his wrists, the letter 'J' etched into each cufflink. A richbusinessman, possibly. He smells sweet and bitter at the same time. It is confounding. "Uhm...do I know you?"

---