Page 124 of Sanctuary of the Shadow
Lifting her again, he crossed the caravan to her desk and set her upon it. He took her desperately, his fingers caressing her clit while she cried out against his lips. Next, he dropped her on her hands and knees back on the bed. He entered her again, reaching around her hip to keep stroking her in time with his frenzied thrusts.
The orgasm climbed up from the base of her spine and crested overhead like a tidal wave. Her ecstatic cries filled the caravan as he bent and fixed his teeth around her shoulder. The prick of his fangs against her skin was sharp but careful so as not to hurt her. She didn’t care about pain. She reached back to grip his head, willing him to bite harder as she rode out the final waves of her peak.
When she could take no more, she pushed his hand away from her sensitized clit, head spinning from the pleasure. He released his bite, pulled out, and flipped her over once more onto her back. Her body flopped limply, weak from her climax, and she could do nothing but cry out as he thrust back into her, reveling in the hoarse shout that burst from his lips as he finally gave in to his release.
Hips still rocking, he collapsed atop her, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him as far as she could go, wanting to hold him in the cradle of her body forever. He dropped his head to her neck, breathing hard against her skin, and she thought her heart would burst from fullness.
Eventually, he rolled them to their sides, and she cuddled into his chest, feeling tiny and vulnerable and yet safer than she’d ever felt. Together, they were stronger. Together, their vulnerabilitywasstrength.
She pulled back enough that she could look into his eyes. He smiled at her, the subtle crinkling of his cheeks nearly hidden by his shadowy skin.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, remembering how they’d often asked each other that in their room at the tavern.
“That…I love you,” he murmured, those fire-wreathed irises glancing away.
Her heart swelled until it nearly hurt. “And I love you. So much.”
He looked back at her, and this time, he didn’t look away.
This was really happening, she realized, a sudden exhilaration seizing her until it felt like she was flying. They were really going to make it. They were here together, starting over, their future wide open before them. They could end up anywhere in the world, and she wouldn’t care. Just as long as they were together.
“You know,” she mused, “if you wanted, you could choose a new name.” This was their new beginning, and she wanted him to feel as ready for it as she did.
“No,” he replied immediately. “You were right before. This…us…is because of what I am, not in spite of it. If I’m truly going to move forward, I need to accept my past. The name I chose is part of it, and I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not.” He glanced down at himself and smiled, the tips of his white fangs a stark contrast against his skin. “I mean, look at me.”
She breathed a laugh, lifting a hand to trace his jawline. “I think you’re perfect. And I like that. I love your name. It suits you.”
Still smiling, his brow lifted. “Because I’m a wraith?”
“No—well, maybe a little. But mostly because it reminds me of how we met. How sure I was from the beginning that you were meant to be in my life.”
“I like that memory.”
“Me too.” She placed her palm on his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. “And now let’s make some new ones.”
…
One week later, Harrow awoke to uncomfortable heat in the caravan. She must have slept in again—something she never did when she’d been on her own. Traveling in the desert meant leaving before the sun rose, resting in the heat of the day, and traveling until it was too dark to see. But since reuniting with Raith, she’d relaxed her schedule considerably. They had nowhere to be, nothing to do except be together and enjoy each other’s company.
It went without saying they’d been doing that a lot.
Throwing back the thin sheet, she padded naked to the wardrobe and donned a light robe. The windows were open, and a gentle breeze ruffled the sarong over the open door. Harrow went there and peeked around it.
Yesterday, they’d found a little spring surrounded by scruffy trees. Clean water and shade—out here, this place was paradise. Outside, Raith was keeping Fiona company by the water’s edge.
Harrow had taught him everything she knew about caring for her horse (which wasn’t much), and he’d proved to be a fast learner. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the tasks and was already much better with Fiona than Harrow was. And of course, the horse loved him, nuzzling him at every opportunity, far more enthusiastic about putting on her harness if Raith was the one doing it.
Smiling, Harrow ducked back inside and went to the desk to commence her morning ritual. She filled her scrying bowl with water, lit a stick of incense and a charcoal tablet, and then placed a pinch of her dwindling supply of vision herbs atop it. At some point, they would have to journey to the Western Territory to gather more from the lakes and marshes where the plants grew.
Exhaling deeply, releasing all distracting thoughts, Harrow gazed into the bowl and let the Water rise…
Moments later, she jumped upright with a gasp, stumbling backward into the stove and nearly knocking over the chair.
“Raith!”
She sprinted outside, practically ripping the sarong off the doorway and taking the steps in one leap. Raith looked up in alarm, dropping everything to run toward her.
“Raith!”
