Page 13 of Cast in Shadow
His longing tinted the air from across the room, and I could picture him leaning against the door frame, watching me in the darkness. A few moments later, with a heavy sigh, he left, locking the door on his way out.
Then it was just me and my thoughts.
It was the kind of downtime I normally would have used to brainstorm and plan, but my mind kept circling back to Emerson. Every time I imagined his blue eyes and big body—the way his heat soaked into me like the warmth of a fire on a cold night—an unwelcome need coiled tighter inside me.
The ache that started with his voice in my head earlier in the night flared back to life, but there was nothing I could do to ease that ache until my magic recovered.
Still, my mind wouldn’t listen. It conjured images of him from the past and concocted new visions of us together in the present day. I desperately wanted to scrub those thoughts from my brain, but they played on, driving my need higher, until the ache in my core grew to the point of pain.
I was writhing inside, torturing myself with dreams of things I could never have, unable to even touch myself for release. When the frustration was enough to make me want to scream, like I might burst into flames right there in my bed, Emerson’s familiar warmth washed over me again.
I felt hands on me that I knew weren’t there, sliding down my neck and chest, and dragging across my hard nipples in just the right way.
My heart twisted.
I can’t do this.
I tried to block him out, but all my defenses were down.
Soft lips chased a line down my abdomen. The sensation was so real I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. Except Emerson wasn’t in my room. I was sure of it, because I could also feel my clothes and the weight of the throw Nguyen had used to cover me. But gods be damned, he’d still found a way to get to me.
Rough palms scraped up and down my thighs. The jerk of having them shoved apart was so fucking real, and a second later, the ghost of a tongue raked up my center. I wanted to cry out—needed to—but my body was still locked up tight.
That didn’t stop his invisible touch. Thick fingers ran along my soaking core before sliding into me, filling me in a way thathad me torn between the pleasure they promised and how wrong this felt.
Need built with each torturous press of those fingers. He found the spot inside me that lit me on fire, and worked me up and up, his fingers dragging along my inner walls, fanning the flames.
Not like this.
I tried to fight the growing inferno. Hate burned brightly inside me, but that wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst was realizing why I was so desperate to make him stop. It wasn’t that it was wrong. It wasn’t that I didn’t want it. It was the tiny flicker of truth lurking in the darkness: I wasn’t sure I could feel him like this again and survive another lifetime without him.
But my body refused to see reason. Another deep press, another flick, and my orgasm consumed me. A ripple of power pulsed out of me into the darkness. My eyes snapped open the next second. I felt the scream clawing up my throat and managed to swallow it down to a groan, barely, grinding my teeth so hard my jaw ached. But I had no defense against the tears. They burned, hot and wet, making the shadows in my dark room waver and dance before spilling down my cheeks.
When I could finally move my limbs a few endless seconds later, I tore the blanket off and wrenched myself up, swinging my shaky legs over the side and clutching the edge of the bed even as my body throbbed with my fading orgasm.
“I hate you,” I whispered into the darkness, letting my head hang.
Was I talking to Emerson or myself?
Did it matter?
Either way, I sure as hell wasn’t expecting a response.
I got one anyway. Just a tiny, barely-there brush of soft lips across the back of my neck that may as well have been a dagger to the heart.
6
Between the scalding water and ruthless scrubbing, I’d nearly stripped my skin raw trying to erase the feel of Emerson’s touch.
It did help though. I was finally starting to feel semi-normal again.
I pulled my shirt over my head and let it fall into place, ignoring the various scars tattooed across my torso. I’d lived a very long life by human standards, but it hadn’t been a gentle one. Until I’d found a way to use my magic on myself—which was a hell of a lot trickier than it sounded—I’d been just as easy to mark up as any other human.
Unfortunately, my magic couldn’t help me with the trauma that accompanied Emerson crashing back into my life.
I unwrapped the towel from around my damp hair and stared out the window overlooking the city of Brynworth. My city. It was beautiful at night, with the light of the moon reflecting off the mirrored windows of the nearby office buildings, and the way the streetlights and intersections createda glowing grid that stretched out below me. It was the place I’d called home for decades.
The last thing I needed was my past ruining it for me.
