Page 152 of Every Shade of Shadow

I gasp for air, for mercy, for release. "Yes," I choke out. "I feel it."

Damien slams into me, hard and fast, rubbing my most sensitive flesh raw with each punishing thrust. At the same time, lightning strikes my body again, jolting my nerves with agonizing pleasure. I scream silently again, the line between pain and ecstasy obliterated, my spine kicking off the stone so hard I worry it will snap in two.

It’s hard to breathe, to find the air my body so desperately needs.

Endure, my head says. Go all the way. You can’t give up now.

Our hips grind together, magic and flesh fused as one. The lightning intensifies, another bolt tearing through me, but I only beg for more. "Harder," I moan. "More.”

Damien obliges, quickening his pace and sending another burst of power through the connection between our minds. My back arches, muscles locking in spasms of bliss and anguish. I hover at the brink of oblivion, clinging to the fraying thread of my consciousness.

There’s an inorganic, ozone smell in the air that’s thick and cloying. It’s that clean, crisp smell of springtime rain, but more concentrated, focused.

"You're close," he rasps, eyes glowing with demonic delight. "Let go, my love, and give yourself over."

I stare up at him, trembling and dazed, but defiance still flickers within me.

I’m basically deaf, can barely breathe or have the energy to remain conscious, but I manage two words.

"Make me."

A fierce grin follows over his face.

The next bolt of lightning steals my breath and shatters my senses. For a single, endless moment, I know nothing but the scream tearing from my raw throat and the agony rending my body and mind.

Then…bliss.

Rapture unlike anything I've experienced before floods my veins. Our magic, our bodies, our consciousness—all fuse into a single point of perfect ecstasy.

His cock runs deeper, bottoming out inside me.

I am no more, adrift in sensation, in power, in him.

Distantly, I sense Damien finding his release, exploding inside me.

“More,” slips from my lips.

A final, blinding flash—and the world goes black.

*

I come awake with a gasp, bolting upright.

I'm back in my room. I’m alive.

There is no sign of the storm, no thunder…I’m sore, kind of feel like I’ve been left in an oven for too long, but I’m in one piece.

I touch a hand to my chest, wincing at the tenderness of my skin.

I see myself in the mirror on the wall.

My chest, arm…

There’s a fern-like pattern running down it right to my wrist. Fresh scarring. I trace my fingers over it, wincing as they make contact with my singed flesh.

“A Lichtenberg scar, from the lightning,” says a voice from the corner of the room. “I’m afraid it’s permanent.”

Tears escape me. “It’s beautiful.”

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