Page 137 of The Seeker
“Joy of my heart, you have found me.
Others see your wisdom, but I see your light
Hidden within, the burning hope of myreshon
Lights my path. He is the lamp in my hand.
My love.
To him, I will give my ear. His wisdom is my gift.
His counsel guides me, his hand protects me.
His heart is my treasure; I guard it with my voice.
Though myreshongrows weary, I will refresh him
With a song on my lips, I will lift him high.”
Meera gave in to the magic. It wrapped itself around them and bound them. Rhys gripped her hips, lifting her as the power of her voice and his touch grew more potent. Fire chased fire. Gold chased silver. The light grew and built until power rose and spilled over, cresting with her climax and pouring from Meera into Rhys. Rhys into Meera.
She cried out as their souls rose and merged. She did not know whose pleasure she felt. Theirs was only one pleasure. One heart. One soul together.
Rhys held her head in his hands, angling her mouth to his, swallowing their harsh cry of release. The climax was soul deep, holding them in a timeless place. Meera felt her mind’s eye open, and she wasn’t looking from her own perspective but from Rhys’s. In his vision she saw herself, head thrown back, body marked with magic, dark eyes gleaming with gold light behind them. Her hair was tangled around her body, the intricate halo taken apart by her mate’s hands. Her cheeks were red and flushed. Her lips swollen from his bite.
She felt him in that moment, felt his heart and his desire. Aching tenderness combined with a need so powerful it nearly destroyed her.
Goddess, his mind said.
Do not call me a goddess,her mind whispered back.A goddess cannot love you as I can. Here between us, we leave all roles behind. Call me a woman. Just a woman.
Youarea woman. And you are mine.
Come with me,the voice of memory whispered to them.And I will show you what we can do.Meera recognized the power of thesomasikararise within her, flooding into Rhys as their bodies and souls remained linked.
They lounged on a silken pillow,Anamitra’s body swollen with child. Firoz held her hand.
“This child is not the keeper,” she whispered. “I can feel his mind.”
“Are you certain?”
“She must come from another of my blood.” Sorrow overwhelmed Anamitra. This son would be beloved, but he would not survive to adulthood, and she would have no other children. Vasu had whispered the news to her as she wept, but she could not tell Firoz. Her mate’s fierce heart would be broken. She would treasure every day of her child’s life, each one more precious for knowing the end before the beginning.
Meera felt the familiar weight of a newly revealed memory, because each one showed itself only at the time it was needed. She was expecting that. What she wasn’t expecting was the already-familiar touch of Rhys’s soul settled next to hers. He was Firoz. He was Rhys. He was within and of the memory just as she was.
She fell back into the plane of memory, taking him with her.
Kashvi arched her back,the sweet release Jargrav offered her a symphony of pleasure and sharp pain. The tiny bites he’d made with his teeth crossed her belly in an intricate geometric pattern designed to please his eyes as he drank his pleasure from between her thighs.
“Are you going to write this down?” she asked him with a panting laugh.
Jargrav stood from kneeling by the bed. “Of course I am.”
Her serious warrior looked grave; only she could see the teasing light he showed no other. As he scribbled notes on a scroll, she drew his erection toward her lips. “Shall I add to your new poem?”
His hand came down on her shoulder and held her in place. “You’ll have me singing my own song, lover mine.”
Meera pulled away from the intimate moment and felt Rhys with her, his hunger echoing the dark glint in Jargrav’s eyes. She forced herself to the surface of her mind, holding her hand out for her mate to come with her.
