Page 209 of Anathema

“No. As open as you seemed to be to the idea of that, I wouldn’t touch a woman in such a state.” He let out a sigh. “But I surely enjoyed watching you.”

“Watching me do what?” No sooner had I said the words, I recalled my undergarments having been slung mid-thigh and the wetness of my sheets. Humiliation flared in my cheeks while flickers of memory flashed through my mind. Whispered words and heavy breaths. The decadent sound of his voice in my ear. An exhilarating sensation that stirred between my thighs all over again.

My slack jaw clenched with embarrassment, as I imagined how I must’ve looked that night. “So happy to have entertained you,” I spat.

“I was only there to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself. Seems I was the only one left in pain.”

I winced at that, reminded that the only reason he’d need to have been concerned was because I had consumed far too much Ambrozhyr that night. “I’m sorry. However I might’ve been the cause of it.”

He tucked his bent arm beneath his head. “It’s a pain I’m quite familiar with, unfortunately.”

In a subtle a gesture as I could muster, I glanced down to the massive bulge tenting his trousers and back. “This pain is of a sexual nature?”

His lip twitched. “It is.”

I rested my hand against his chest and traced a small scar below his collarbone. While I knew very little of a man’s body, I wondered how I might ease him of this ache. On a whim of madness, I skated my hand down his chest, to the deep grooves of his muscled stomach that twitched with my caress. The hem of his trousers tickled the bottom of my palm, and I dared myself to reach inside. To lay my unrelenting curiosities to rest.

He stilled, his body rigid, as he seemed to realize my intent.

I reached lower, only nudging his tip.

All at once, Zevander broke away, turning his face from mine, and took long, heaving breaths. He unthreaded his hands from my hair and fell to the side of me. At first, I thought he’d sought a better angle to reach down inside his pants, but when I attempted to resume my explorations, he took hold of my wrist. “Please,” he said through clenched teeth.

The poisonous thoughts from moments ago bubbled like a cauldron inside my head, and with a nod, I pulled my hand away from him. “If you do not want me to touch you, I will respect your wishes.”

He quickly captured my retreating hand and held it to his chest, as if to assure me it wasn’t rejection. “I want you. I want you so desperately that I’d kill anything with a pulse just to have you for one night. This insatiable craving I feel …” A muscle in his jaw twitched with the tension in his words and he squeezed my hand. “I can’t fucking breathe. I ache for you, Maevyth. Believe me when I say this.”

But he didn’t bother to say why he hesitated.

And I didn’t bother to ask.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

ZEVANDER

In the darkness, Zevander lay staring at Maevyth. Her quiet snores confirmed she’d fallen asleep, and with her back to him, he ran his fingertips over her long, soft curls. His mind spun back to earlier, when she’d lay spread out before him, trembling and needy. Perfect. He could still hear the echo of her moans in his head. A sound that called to his instincts to claim her.

His gaze fell to the small of her back, where he’d seen the faint scars of a whipping. He’d refused to examine them too closely, because, by the gods, he’d have torn through the folds of time to punish whoever had laid hands on her. Instead, he made a silent vow that he’d viciously strike down anything that touched her from that day forward.

His mate.

He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Mates were for those who believed in fate, who gazed at the stars with a longing to capture them. He’d lived too long with the practicality of knowing the stars were too far out of reach, and yet, in his arms lay the brightest of them all.

The girl with the moon in her eyes and fire in her soul.

Damn the gods for sending him one so beautiful, with a heart so pure. So fragile.

In sleep, she rolled onto her back, her head still turned away from him, but her snores died away to long, peaceful breaths.

Touch her. She’s yours.

He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. What had he ever done in his ruthless life to deserve something so innocent and good? The world had never given him anything so freely. Everything he’d ever given a damn about had come at a tragic cost, so why would he trust that fate wouldn’t stab him in the back?

At the same time, while every dark corner of his mind resisted the possibility of it, the fact was, Dolion’s vision was indisputable. Seers did not possess the power to dream of mating bonds on their own. Regardless of whatever visions the old mage might’ve had over the years that’d turned out to be false, mates were always true. Particularly when, at the time he’d dreamed it, Dolion hadn’t yet met Maevyth. And even if Zevander had the audacity to question a vision from the gods, that first kiss in his office had certainly laid all doubt to rest. It was then he’d felt the first tug of his bond. The shaking of his bones that’d awakened the possessive beast inside of him.

The first sputtering beat of his dead heart.

What a cruel destiny she’d been given, though. And, to some extent, him, as well. Having a mortal for a mate would mean suffering the agony of watching her die too soon.

---