Page 73 of These Eternal Bones
“I only wish for you to apologize for being reckless.”
“I wouldn’t have had to do it if you weren’t so…so damned stubborn.”
My eyes widen as she curses, stifling a laugh. It always sounds so foreign and ridiculous coming from her sweet, prim mouth.
A tendril shrinks on my command, thin and willowy like a feather as it dances across her breasts down the valley of her chest, her frustration, need, and pleasure ringing loudly in the bond. Herlove.It’s enough to make me cave, to bring me to my knees and worship at her feet.
After an apology.
“I don’t regret it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Elric, I ache…”
“I can fix that.” Tears well in her pretty emerald eyes. I search the bond for any sign of true discomfort and find none. Having her here feels like coming home, only a heartbeat away. “This is torment for us both.”
“I’m sorry I scared you,” she whispers, glaring needy little daggers at me. A scream leaves her throat as I dismiss my tendrils, letting her drop into my arms. Her tanned legs hitch around my hips, her core grinding against me as we blur to the bed.
“My sweet, Molly,” I coo again, my approval ringing in the bond as I capture her soft, swollen lips.
She mewls, her hips moving in jerky little thrusts as I palm her ass, my claws descending to prick her flesh the way she likes.
“Tell me where you need me.”
She thrusts again. “There, it hurts.” Her voice is soft, watery, and I can’t stifle the growl that rumbles from me as her peaked, reddened nipples brush my chest.
I lower her to the bed, her flushed skin pooling in silk. Coppery curly hair, a mess, knees bent inward, adds pressure to her core. She’s a goddess and I am unworthy of standing in her grace, but I will worship and defile it all the same. “Show me exactly, syringa.”
Her breath leaves her in shaky little pants. Her skin reddened from where I’d bound her as she trails her hand down her breasts, lingering on her pretty, soft stomach before she levels me with heavy, half-lidded eyes. She lets her legs spread, delving her fingers between her soaked core to spread it open, showing me everything. “Right here.”
I snap.
My form blurs, and I’m on her before she can blink, my hardened length sinking into her warmth on a groan that sounds primal, even to me. Being with her is euphoric, being inside her an unmatchable, divine sort of bliss. Her core flutters, gripping me as I bend, nipping and sucking at her sensitive breasts, my hands like a vise around her flared hips. I drive into her with wild abandon, watching as her breasts heave. Her mouth falls open on a silent scream as her pleasure overtakes her and mine me. We’re limbs, love, and devotion that transcends grief, horror, blood, and time. I am hers, endlessly and without falter, I am hers. She moans my name like a prayer as she tips over the edge, her release hitting her, making her core strangle and clamp around my cock. I follow her, releasing her hips as I shunt into her, my claws scoring and shredding the bedding around her soft, writhing form.
My chest is warm for the first time in nearly two hundred years as we come down from that high. Her sleepy, pleased eyes look up at me like only she can.
“I love you,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.
Her eyes flutter, fighting sleep. “I love you more.”
I smile at that, as she loses the fight against sleep, her exhaustion taking her all at once. The bond strong and humming.
35
A New Old Voice
Elric
My mate’s tiny warm hand is wrapped around mine, a small indulgent smile on her lips as she guides me across the canvas, a streak of vivid yellow that exists nowhere here. Like her smell and her soul, in every life, Molly has loved flowers. After nearly seven hundred years, I have yet to get them to grow on this land. Hardier fruits, some vegetables, but no flowers. She dots with my hand, getting excess paint from her cart on my cuff. I have half a mind to peel the skin off the selkie if she dares to wash it clean.
Something is coming, you’ll lose her.
The voice warns, showing its nasty self after so long, but I ignore it. She’s wrapped safe in my arms, her heartbeat sounding in the hollow cavern of my chest. Strong and alive, her love and amusement thrum through the bond as I push too hard on the brush. I can’t bring myselfto feel ashamed for messing it up or tell her it was me who taught her to paint, many…many lives ago. If I mess it up, she feigns annoyance and uses my hands to fix it, dragging my cuff through more paint. It’s been a month since the bond slipped into place.
A month of rightness…wholeness I had nearly forgotten the feel of.
A month of fear.
