Page 47 of Collected By the Crow

With a pretend huff, Cass slid her laptop under the bed and rolled over. “So what’s on the agenda tomorrow? Are we going to lie around in bed all day?”

“Would you object?” He pulled her on top of him, his hands roaming over her back, gently pressing into her muscles.

“No. Maybe. It just feels like we should be doing something.”

“That’s because you push yourself too hard. You need to rest more. Rest is part of the process.”

Cass snorted. “You sound like an inspirational poster.”

“I’m serious, Cassandra.” His lower hands squeezed her ass, making her squirm. “Aren’t I always telling you to let me unburden you?”

“Telling me? You’re more demanding than that.”

Qadaire hummed, his sweet sounds vibrating on her chest. She rested her head in the soft divot between his arms and neck, tracing his gray nipple with her index finger. It was hard to be so still, even with her soul feeling lighter than ever. Her brain kept telling her there was surely something productive she could be doing or planning for right now, regardless that it was late. She used to think of it as a flaw, a reason she was a poor choice of partner. Like she had no space in her busy mind and people had to deal with her nonstop questions hounding them. Not with him. Qadaire understood her chaos and called it beautiful.

“Oh, I know what we should do.” She propped herself up on his chest. “Let’s tend the greenhouse. Juice up the irrigation, maybe do some reenactments.” She wiggled her brow. She wasn’t picturing him at the bottom of the bench this time. “Plus, it smells so good in there.”

“Does it not smell good in here?”

She gave him a flat look. “You know.”

Qadaire smiled tightly. He gave a terse shake of his head, and she realized his hands had gone flat on her backside.

“What’s wrong?”

“The greenhouse is no longer.” Something like grief flickered in his features. “I had to absorb the magic keeping it alive in order to visit your home.”

Rope wound its way around her chest and pulled taut. She closed a hand over her mouth and bit back the sting. He’d sacrificed his sanctuary for her. If only she’d come to her senses earlier, if only she’d come back to him sooner.

If only she’d never left.

“I can see you thinking, woman.” Qadaire swept her hair behind her ears. “Greenhouses can be rebuilt. You are more important.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing. Just lie here with me. Read me some of that book.”

With a heavy heart, she lifted the book from the pillow and rolled down beside him, her body molding against his naturally. She knew he didn’t need sleep, but he relaxed as she read, Zero at her feet. When it became difficult to stay awake, she drifted to sleep between the two people she cared for the most.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Qadaire

The next few days were a whirlwind. Qadaire couldn’t keep his hands off Cassandra’s lush body, but luckily, she welcomed all of his attention. The only thing more difficult than keeping his hands to himself was keeping them both from working. Difficult as it was, for the first time in centuries, he wanted to be idle.

Qadaire stayed in bed every night, holding Cassandra as she slept. There was nothing in the world more beautiful than her. He loved the way her scent changed in sleep. Her blood cooled, creating a delicious aroma. To have her in his bed was nothing short of a miracle. He never would’ve thought he’d have her marvelous backside pressed against his erection in the mornings.

And those juicy thighs. He needed to bury himself in them. His grip on her tightened involuntarily as he pressed himself against the seam of her ass, his fingers digging into the meat of her thigh. A soft chuckle that was borderline a moan escaped her.

“Ah, so you are awake.” He pressed himself against her harder, tilting her pelvis so there was no confusion about what he wanted. “Good.”

Cassandra rolled over until she was on her back beside him. He eagerly claimed her mouth, roving her body with his right hands. When he cupped her breasts, her body rose to meet his, pressing herself further into his touch. Nine rings, this woman! She would be the death of him.

Death. That was a subject they’d yet to approach, but he was sure it was on her mind as much as his. Was it possible to safely turn her? If it was, he wasn’t certain he wanted to subject her to immortal life.

He pushed the thought aside. With his upper right hand teasing her breast, he slid his lower down to her thigh, breezing over the stubble between her legs. At her whimpered encouragement, he rubbed the spot again, barely dipping into her opening. He loved the way her body responded, the way it showed him what she wanted without words. Like it did now, her thighs clenching over his hand, rolling him through her slickness.

“Roll over.” He guided her hips back the way they’d been before she woke. Pausing to admire her backside, he chuckled when she gave an impatient hum. He flattened his cock between her cheeks and gave a playful wiggle. “Is this what you want?”

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