Page 69 of The King's Man
It was so small.
Oh God…
She had become my world. My purpose. Mylife.And yet… alongside the curling warmth of love and intimacy andrightness,there was a deep, black hole. A lack. It sucked at the good, warm, strength of my soul and threatened to swallow it down.
The bond had attempted to complete, to tie us together, yet some piece of it had failed?
Some piece of it… or some piece of her?
Had she rejected it? Was there a barrier between us? Was this how a bond with a Fetch felt?
How thefuckwas I supposed to live thatthat?
26.No One to Blame
SOUNDTRACK:Lamentby Tommee Profitt, Sam Tinnesz, and Shaya Zamora
~ DIADRE ~
When he finally brought me to the verge of that incredible release, I was mindless. Consumed with him and the building pressure within, so it confused me when something speared through my ribs. I cried out in pleasureandpain. But Jann collapsed over me andconvulsed.
I thought I’d killed him.
I panicked, dragged out of that thrumming bliss to shocking reality. He was so huge, it took some wrestling to get him rolled to his side so I could get out from underneath him, but even when I did, Jann stared blank-face, eyes wide and pained, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish.
“Jann… Jann,what is happening?”I grabbed his shoulder and shook, struggling to breathe, my chest tight like iron bandssqueezed me tight. He’d been so heavy when he landed on me, I assumed it was taking some time for my body to recover. But when he didn’t respond, it scared me.“Jann!”
He wasn’t breathing. He twitched like a bug, those cords on his neck tight and standing proud.
“Jann, please. You have to breathe!”
Panic fluttered in my chest. I was about to walk the shadows and find Melek, beg for help, pray he lived long enough for me to bring someone back, but suddenly, Jann blinked and reached out with a trembling hand, took my wrist, pulling my palm to his chest.
There was only a small sizzle this time. His eyes closed and his head slumped back on the pillow… but at least his chest expanded as he finally took a breath.
I slumped over him, leaning on him because he’d kept my hand clamped to his chest. Pushing his hair back out of his eyes, murmuring to him because clearlysomethinghad happened. Unless a Nephilim lost his mind every time he orgasmed.
Perhaps their members were so huge, they drained their bodies of life-force every time they—
Jann coughed, then took another huge breath. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat, then let go of my wrist and clawed both his hands into his hair.
“You scared me for a second there,” I said with a shaky laugh as I sat back on my heels, one hand clamped on his knee to steady myself.
“Sorry,” he rasped, then dropped his hands to his sides and sat up, suddenly.
He wavered for a moment as he got upright and I grabbed for his shoulder. But he blinked and shook his head, then steadied.
“Jann, what happened? Are you—”
The words died on my tongue as his eyes darted to meet mine, then quickly darted away—but not before I saw the shadow in them.
My stomach went cold. I knew that look.
It was the shadow of regret. The creeping, casual shame of a man who’s had what he wanted, but is polite enough to not be callous about the fact that he wants to get rid of you.
Rejection.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My shoulders wanted to hunch. My lungs wanted to shrivel.
