Page 43 of The World Undone

And if she wanted me, as fractured and defeated as I was, then—even though I’d clearly won some ridiculous lottery rigged impossibly in my favor—I wouldn’t deny her.

This was love, this impossible-can’t-breathe-can’t-think feeling that held a grip on my chest from the first moment I saw her and refused to let go no matter how hard I fought it. It was stronger than me, stronger than the wolf—and I was so fucking grateful for that.

I was hers, from the first moment I laid eyes on her, a naive girl, sequestered in a small town that had no idea what kind of a gem it had, her lips pressed against those of some human boy who never stood a chance. My recollection of that day had always been hazy, the wolf’s memories often separate from mine, like dreams that sifted slowly away, with each moment I was awake, until there were only a few stray grains for me to make sense of.

But this one was clear, came back in a rush, hitting me strong and unbridled. The possessiveness that took over me when I saw her with someone else.

I’d thought it was the human who never stood a chance—but it was me. I was gone the moment she turned her righteous fury on me and tried to kill me.

Love in this world was strange—volatile and violent, but it was tender too. And we’d been dressed up and dancing in all those parts this whole time, resistance futile.

I didn’t need to voice the words, I’d given her full access to my thoughts, my feelings. I was laid bare before her, torn in pieces and leaving her to judge which parts were best to sift through and put back together in whatever version of the puzzle we could manage to salvage.

It didn’t even bother me that the others might be able to see these pieces too.

Her lips pressed against mine, soft and tentative—the kiss gone as quickly as it came. Her deep brown eyes were glassy with unshed tears as they held mine, but I didn’t need to stare into them to feel her, to understand her.

I was consumed by her, and still it wasn’t enough—this insufferable hunger flaring to life with a vengeance for all the time I’d wasted not holding her, not touching her, not showing her that she was mine, ours.

The insatiable need and desire I’d felt since that day, that I pushed and resisted, only letting slip through in slivers and moments of vulnerability when the wolf and everything I suppressed with it pushed to the surface—I let it unfurl and curl around me, basking in it.

“Atlas,” she whispered, her lips parting from the force of the heat building between us, all-consuming and demanding, without even a touch.

“I don’t want to talk,” I said, gripping her hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer to me until she could feel me hard and wanting against her, “you asked what you could do? How you could help? You have.” I wasn’t who I was before the lab, and I probably never would be. But I could craft a version of myself from the wreckage, and maybe that version would suit me even better than the original. The ghosts weren’t gone, but I wanted to bask in their temporary absence, sink into my body, feel it for the first time in months, linger in the corporeal world. “Right now, all I want is to sink into you. I don’t want to think, don’t want to talk—I’m an open book to you now. I’ve carved my chest open and pinned back my flesh. You can have your way with me—poke and pull out all that you wish. I won’t hide from you anymore, won’t insult you enough to think I can protect you from anything—not when it’s been you saving me all along.”

It would take time, I knew that.

Tomorrow, I’d go with her to the med center, try finding a way to integrate back into the team, to help. It would be easier—pulling myself out of the darkness, next time I slipped back into its grip—knowing that their hands were waiting for me to grasp.

“With you, and for you, I will fight. Right now, you’re the only thing I want to feel, this feeling the only thing I want to fight for—but I want more of it. So tell me,” I pressed my mouth against hers, hot and wanting, pulling back only long enough to whisper across them, “can you help me with that, Bentley?”

9

MAX

Alightning bolt of desire shot down my spine, sparking along every nerve ending as he deepened the kiss, his tongue parting my lips until it was wrestling with mine—languid and hungry all at once.

Fucking hell, you taste good.

His words pressed into me with a growl, laced with a need and desire that matched my own—out of control, hungry, unyielding.

With the connection blown open, I could feel his lust radiate through me, could feel how difficult it had been for him to sleep next to me each night, without giving into this desire that lived in his bones at all times—as it did in mine. It hadn’t been easy, both of us shrouded in a heavy blanket of need, trying to protect the other by ignoring it and setting it aside.

No more. Declan was right. Joy, pleasure—we needed to take these things while we had the chance. Who knew how much longer we would be able to.

I didn’t understand how I could possibly want more after coming several times already tonight, how my body could still crave and go feral for every ounce of pleasure that was offered to it, but it did, and I did.

A deep growl pulled from his chest as he pressed me up against him, sealing our bodies as close as they could go, his dick thick and hard, straining against my lower belly as a relentless need echoed between us.

I tried to reign it in a bit, to exercise a little control over the bonds, closing them enough to keep us from coming instantly. Now that I knew what it felt like, could trace the edges of where I ended and he began, could feel my connection to the others, I focused, used the tools Wade and Serae had taught me—the succubus power that I was growing more in tune with each day, the mental compartmentalizing I’d become adept at crafting—to manipulate an ebb and flow, to quiet and close the mental connections without shoving them closed entirely.

He stilled for a moment, tongue against my teeth, as he sensed the shift. His heart beat rabid against his chest, a match to my own. “Wh?—”

“It’s okay,” I whispered against him, reaching for the bond between us, tugging him closer, “just experimenting with a little more privacy this time.”

When he felt our link flare back to life, he grunted in relief. “Stay with me.”

I nodded, letting my reactions to his every touch, his every kiss flow back to him—he wanted the connection right now, wanted to escape being alone with his own thoughts.

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