Page 18 of Ransomed to the World
Ignoring her protest, he ran his hands along her body, noting the injuries that would cripple a normal person.
She didn’t even fucking flinch.
“Heal.” His demand was gruff, brooking no argument. Seeing her hurt when he was unable to prevent it was driving him insane. He couldn’t think logically when she was injured.
She pursed her lips and leaned back, a cute little furrow between her brows as she surveyed him. Then she thrust out her arm at him. “Together.”
His breath hitched, and he placed his hand trustingly in hers.
Not that he felt a hint of fear.
It was the opposite.
He was fucking addicted to her.
The last time she manipulated the afterworld that way, he’d become intoxicated, drunk on her.
The moment their hands connected, tiny particles kicked up in the air. Dark smoke snaked along her skin and up his arms, then slithered under his skin. His wounds stitched back together, but he didn’t feel any of the usual pain.
He only felt her.
His cocked hardened, and he bit back a groan at the torture of having her so close. It took everything in him to hold back from taking what he wanted. He watched the bruises on her body fade, watched the way her pale skin seemed to glow with vitality, then his control snapped, and he hauled her against him and kissed the ever-loving shit out of her.
He thrust his tongue in her mouth, craving the taste of her. He tried to resist, tried to hold back, but his beast was having none of it. Instead of retreating, she gave as good as she got. When she sucked on his tongue, he nearly came in his pants.
It was only when he felt her unbutton his jeans and lower his zipper that he lifted his head, all his blood running south. “Annora.”
It was a warning and a plea.
He lifted his hands to stop her, knowing the guys would be searching for them, but when her small hand clamped around his cock, he was lost. He tore at her pants, not even waiting for her to take them off before he shoved his fingers into her, unable to stop his moan when he found her already wet.
When he pulled his hand away, she whimpered in protest. Ignoring the way she clawed at him, he yanked her pants off and looped his arms behind her knees. She gave a squeak of surprise as he shoved her back against a tree and thrust into her.
Gods, but she was tight.
Made just for him.
Her nails bit into his shoulders, drawing blood, and he growled, pulled out, and thrust back into her harder, locking his knees when pleasure threatened to drown him.
She whimpered, her body moving against his, begging for more.
And he couldn’t deny her.
Thrust after thrust sent them both soaring higher. Needing to feel her pleasure, he ducked his head and took her lips, then reached between them. The instant he touched her core, she bucked hard, her scream swallowed by his kiss as her orgasm rippled between them.
It triggered his own, dragging him into oblivion.
By the time he was able to lift his head, they were both dazed and panting. He gently lowered her to the ground, already wanting her again, but he knew they didn’t have time. He steadied her when her legs wobbled, repressing a smile of pure pride that he could affect her so, and helped put her clothes back in order.
Lust still simmered in his veins, but it was banked for now.
Enough that he wouldn’t allow her to distract him again. He crossed his arms as he stared down at the petite girl who held his whole world in her hands. His insides went cold at how close he came to losing everything.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Annora stiffened at the arctic tone of Xander’s voice. She lifted her chin, her own anger coming to the fore. “I could ask you the same thing. Did you honestly believe you’d be able to take two trolls on your own? You should’ve called for help. You should’ve—”
“And they would’ve found you before I had a chance to warn anyone about the trouble!” Xander roared, running his fingers through his hair. “You were already on your way. I couldn’t risk that they would find you.”
