Page 157 of Wicked Bonds
Reformation occurred twice more in her history, the causes of both tied to Balthazar and her feelings overriding the alterations in her mind. She’d found him too quickly, causing the second round of reformation. And the third, which had taken place only three centuries ago, had been a result of Dian’s impatience with her refusing to heel.
He’d been waiting for her to grovel, to go to him and beg him to copulate. To fulfill the wish of the Fates. To be the mother of his future child.
Now that would never happen. Balthazar’s soul was tied to hers, his immortality complete. Dian could never separate them through death.
Her body no longer belonged to the predictions of fate.
Her body belonged to Balthazar, to herself, to their shared destiny ofchoice.
A sharp crack drew her back to reality, ethereal energy sizzling through the air.
Gabe, she thought, catching sight of his red plumes.
A flash of navy wings danced near him, making Leela’s heart soar.Vera.
They were in the air, battling warrior Seraphim.
Is this a dream?she wondered, blinking up at the magical lines tracking across the bright blue sky.Where did they come from?
Patreel,Balthazar answered, startling her.He arrived with them.
She searched for the source of that soothing tone and found Balthazar kneeling before her, his brown eyes full of life.
Leela tried to reach for him, but the netting burned, holding her against the chair.
You’re in my head,she marveled, loving the way his voice sounded inside her. But something still felt incomplete. Like they were missing a key detail of their bond.
She searched for a cause, the memories fleeting and coming to her in an obscure order that she couldn’t fully organize.
Balthazar wrapped his palm around the back of her neck, his lips near hers as he whispered, “Bite me.”
Real or a memory?She couldn’t say because it reminded her of the night she’d first bitten him. They’d been joined intimately, his mouth an obsession she’d been worshipping with her tongue. He’d been on top of her, slowly penetrating her with his thick arousal and driving her to oblivion.
She’d wanted to bite him.
She’d admitted it out loud.
And he’d given her permission with those two sweet words.
“Bite me,” he repeated now, drawing her back to him.
Was she dreaming this? Everything felt so fuzzy, the air sizzling around them with static electricity from the fight above.
Vera and Gabe.
Melanythos.
Warrior Seraphim.
Her head spun, the dizzying sensation threatening to swallow her whole.
She needed her anchor. Her Balthazar. Her reality. Herchoice.
He guided her lips to his neck, her body held captive by the net. She fought to part her lips, to force her face to move.
It hurt.
It burned.
