Page 57 of Silent Lucidity

“Wild,” he replied with a chuckle as the fragmented, unfocused memories flitted through his mind. “The people chanted and banged on drums, faster and faster, and the beat was so loud, so strong, that almost everyone had to move to it. And that’s what they did. Just…moved however they felt the song told them.”

Abella lifted her head, and Tenthil opened his eyes to see her smiling down at him.

“I think that’s the first time I heard you laugh,” she said.

He chuckled again; it feltgood. “Me, too.”

Something in her eyes softened. “We have dances on Earth like what you described. I can almost imagine it.”

“Can everyone from your world dance like you?”

“There are lots of people who dance better than me. But no…only those who put years of practice into it can dance like I do.” She tilted her head, plucked up a strand of his hair, and twirled it around her finger. “I’ve loved dancing ever since I was little. My mom was a dancer, too, so I used to watch her all the time, fascinated by the way she moved. She retired early after having kids and started teaching classes. As soon as I could walk, I was dancing with her, always eager to learn more.”

Abella grinned. “My dad used to come home after work and see us practicing, and he’d pick me up and twirl me around and around and around. I was his littleballerina. After high school, I went to a performing arts school, hoping to eventually become a professional dancer. I was on my way back from a rehearsal the night I was taken.”

Though she spoke large in a universal speech, a few of her words—likeballerina—were in her native tongue, and his translator offered no satisfactory understanding of them. Fortunately, her story gave him enough information to infer her general meaning—dancing was her life. It was what she’d chosen, what she loved.

The first time he’d ever chased something for himself, something he desired, had been when he’d followed Abella down to the dance floor in Twisted Nethers.

“What is it like to have a family?” he asked. His own memories were so distant, his own experiences so different, that he couldn’t imagine it.

Her smile—which had fallen when she spoke of her kidnapping—returned, though it was not as wide or bright as it had been. “Like you’re never alone. It doesn’t matter if you’ve gone hours, days, or months without seeing each other, you know they’re always there. They uplift you, care for you, encourage you, and even if you don’t always get along, you know you still love each other.”

Tenthil’s jaw clenched.Thatwas what he denied her by refusing to take her to the terran embassy. That was what his mate had longed for since she was taken, what she’d yearned for above all else. The emotions inside him, driven by primal instincts, were conflicting—he wanted her, needed her, could not let go of her, but he also wanted to make her happy. He wanted to fulfill her every desire. He wanted to take away her sadness and pain.

But he could not go to the terran embassy. If he gave her what she wanted—if he gave herthat—he would lose her.

Abella cupped his cheek. “What’s wrong, Tenthil?”

“I’m not what you chose,” he said, forcing the words up from his ragged throat, “but I want to be all that to you.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she searched his face. There was conflict within them—longing, sadness, uncertainty, even a hint of affection, all in a chaotic, indecipherable swirl. Her lips parted as though to speak, but she closed them and leaned forward to brush them across his instead.

He wrapped his arms around her and slipped a hand into her dark hair, holding her closer and deepening the kiss. She opened to him, and their tongues met as they tasted one another.

Warmth kindled in his chest and spread through his body, coalescing into a flame deep in his belly. His cock pulsed and slowly hardened as his awareness of her—of her scent, taste, and feel—heightened.

Breaking the kiss, Abella opened her eyes and met his. She slid down his chest, spreading her thighs to either side of him as she sat up and positioned her sex against the tip of his shaft. Slowly, so slowly, she pushed down, taking him into her tight, wet heat.

Tenthil gritted his teeth and placed his hands on her hips, hissing with the sensation of her enveloping him.

She rose up on her knees and sank back down upon him just as slowly, over and over again. Her lashes fluttered, but she kept her eyes on his. What her movements lacked in speed and intensity they made up for in deliberate sensuality; with each thrust so prolonged, the resulting pleasure was amplified by a building sense of anticipation.

He lowered his gaze to the point where their bodies were connected. His fingers flexed as he released a growl; the sight of his cock—glistening with her nectar—sliding in and out of her sex rocketed his desire beyond anything in the known universe. It was the rawest evidence of what he knew in his heart—she washis.

Her thigh muscles trembled as a series of soft moans escaped her. She moved her hands to her chest, cupping her breasts as she continued her slow rise and fall, and her pace faltered as her breath quickened and her moans intensified.

“Tenthil,” she pleaded, her eyes dark with desire. “Love me.”

Love.

Tenthil understood what it meant only indirectly—the Master loved secrets, loved the Void; some of the acolytes seemed to love their work; Abella loved dancing and her family. Perhaps his parents had loved each other. But what did he really know of love other than that he longed for it from Abella, that the jumble of emotions he felt toward her might’ve been love?

He knew that he’d risked everything to have her, that he’d risk far more to keep her, that he’d make the choice to go to her again and again regardless of the consequences.

This was different than claiming a mate; this was deeper, on an even more primal level.

Love.

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