Page 162 of The Edge of Dawn

His eyes were closed. His lashes were long, dark, and surprisingly delicate.

She drank him in, suddenly greedy, for she had him all to herself.

He was hers and hers alone.

Desire coiled around her as the warmth in her chest spread to every inch of her body. She was on fire. She wanted him so badly.

And yet…

She couldn’t bear to wake him.

He was so serene.

Her gaze traveled down his body. She’d seen him naked in their dreams, but encountering him in real life was something else.

Every inch of him was perfectly honed, and even in sleep, he radiated raw, dangerous power. She knew how swift and deadly he could be, which made this all the more incredible—that she could be so close to him, feel so affectionate, and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would never, ever harm her.

Her eyes were drawn to his cock, which was semi-erect.

Her mind went blank. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t think of anything else but the way she’d felt with him inside her, and her wanting intensified.

What do I do now?

Selfishly, she wanted to wake him up, even though he probably really needed the rest.

After all, he’d been using his ka’qui. If the fatigue she’d felt after using the krisalix was anything to go by, he would be exhausted, too.

With the energy of the Universe swirling around inside her, creating pressure that made her desperate for release, Jade closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. She tempered her wild ka’qui, surprised at how easy it was to control now.

The more she used it, the easier it became. After wielding so much power through the krisalix, this small feat felt like child’s play.

She slipped into the pod beside him. There were no sheets or pillows, just a mildly soft surface covered in a material that felt like silk.

It was slightly too cool in here for her liking. She wrapped herself in her robe and sought out Dragek’s warmth, for he was always warm.

She embraced him, curling her arm across his bare torso—caressing his hard, sculpted body. His smooth skin was deliciously warm. He smelled good, too: of male musk and something vaguely wintery, like a cold stream in a pine forest.

She’d never been so enamored of another person before.

So obsessed.

So immersed in pure, sensory bliss.

Which was also torture.

She was so close to him, but she couldn’t have him yet.

Maybe she was a bit of a masochist because part of her wanted to crystallize the exquisite agony of this moment and seal it away in her soul forever.

Lying there beside him—feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, soaking up his warmth and his dormant power—she savored the thrill and the sheer tension of anticipation.

She closed her eyes and waited for what felt like an eternity until there was a subtle change in the cadence of his breathing.

He turned his head and opened his eyes.

She found herself staring into depthless obsidian, as infinite and wondrous as the Universe itself.

But he was no mystery to her.

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