Page 68 of Silent Lucidity

Tipping her forehead against the wall, Abella came with a choked cry. There was no forewarning; it burst through her with all the intensity of his ravenous black eyes, with all the intensity of their joining. He didn’t slow despite her knees buckling—he simply held her in place, pinned against the wall, as her toes curled and her sex convulsed around his shaft. Her mind was swept away on the surging tide of ecstasy.

When the quivering of her sex eased, Tenthil pulled back and withdrew from her. She immediately feltempty, and a desperate whimper rose from her throat.

He bunched the fabric of her dress in his hands, pulled it off over her head, and spun her around to face him. Abella stared into those black eyes; they brimmed with passion, with affection, withhunger.

Tenthil dropped his hands to her ass and lifted her off the floor, drawing her body against his. She instinctively threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist as he lowered onto his cock. Her moan was lost amidst the continued pounding of the drums. He kissed her hard; she tasted his sweet venom and greedily swept her tongue along his fangs for more.

Keeping her secure in his hold, he carried her to the bed and climbed onto his knees. A moment later, she was falling, her back landing on the soft blanket. Tenthil broke the kiss and leaned over her, caging her with his powerful arms to either side of her head and stopping his face only centimeters from hers. Throughout, his cock had remained inside her, thick and throbbing. He put it to use once again.

He jerked his hips forward, and Abella’s lips parted to release a sharp breath at the force. She smoothed her hands down to his chest, where she flattened her palms to feel the thumping of his heart. She focused on his heartbeat, on his guttural sounds, on every knot and ridge on his cock as it moved in and out of her. Warmth blossomed within her as she neared the edge of oblivion once more.

His dark eyes bore down into her, possessive and fierce, and the curtain of his silver hair closed out the rest of existence, creating a space only for Tenthil and Abella.

In that moment, she knew, without a doubt, that he was hers. Her mate. She was the entirety of his world. He would do anything for her, everything for her, just to keep her as his own, to keep her safe. How could she consider giving this up? How could she give up this chance at happiness, especially after all he’d sacrificed, after all he’d risked for her?

How could she give him up?

She couldn’t. She knew that now. Even if she returned to Earth, she wouldn’t be happy without him. He’d already taken a piece of her heart. It was only a matter of time before he had it all. With every wicked curl of his lips, every darkening of his eyes, every touch of his hand, she knew the inevitability of her resistance. She would be his completely. It was the only possible outcome.

Tenthil growled and shifted his hips, thrusting into her at a different angle. Sparks flashed across her vision and danced behind her eyelids when she squeezed them shut against the fresh torrent of pleasure. His body tensed, and his warm breath swept over her skin as he pressed his mouth to her neck.

He didn’t slow his thrusts, didn’t waver in his rhythm as he pierced her flesh with his fangs.

“Tenthil,” she breathed before words became too much for her lust-hazed mind to produce.

She wrapped her arms around him and let ecstasy—amplified by his warm venom—carry her away.

Everything around them—the room, the city, the whole universe—ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them, only their connection. Abella cried out; Tenthil threw back his head and roared. His cock expanded, his heat poured into her, and he bucked his hips, somehow forcing himself deeper. She dug her heels into his lower back to bring him closer still, unable to get enough.

When they finally settled—except for the occasional shudders that passed between them—Tenthil pressed his face to her neck and kissed the flesh where he’d bitten her—the same place he’d bitten her the other times they’d made love. He didn’t move, and she didn’t want him to; she relished the feel of him buried inside her. She stroked his back, running her palms over the wide expanse of flesh and muscle, tracing every scar she encountered with her fingertips.

A strong wave of protectiveness swept through her. Tenthil had suffered so much—too much. She didn’t want him to suffer anymore and wished she could take away the suffering he’d already endured, wished she could alleviate the pain he carried in his soul. If he’d been able to grow on his own, without the influence of the Order, what sort of man would he have become?

What sort of man could he be alongside her?

She had no answers for those questions. The path ahead was long and dangerous, and Abella was certain only of one thing: Tenthil was hers—hers—and she wouldneverlet him go.

* * *

Tenthil lay on his side,arms around Abella with her back against his chest. He wasn’t sure how long they’d reclined together after making love, save that it had been long enough for the music to cease automatically. Time hadn’t mattered in the aftermath of their joining. The only important thing was that he had her here with him—her warmth, her softness, her scent.

Releasing his hold on Abella, he propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at her, running a hand over her pale skin. His blood froze. Dark, finger-shaped bruises marred her hips, and crusted blood clung to several shallow scratches on her thighs.

It was only then that the lingering haze of his passion cleared from his mind and he realized how far he’d gone, how much control he’d relinquished.

His heart thundered. “Sorry, Abella. I’m sorry…”

Abella turned her head to look at him and took his hand, which she pulled around to her front. She ran her fingertip along the edge of one of his claws.

“Don’t be, Tenthil. I’m not.”

The lightness of her tone did little to console him. The evidence was clear—he’d gone too far, had been too rough. He’d done harm tomanypeople throughout his life, but he’d never wanted her to be part of that list.Never.

“I hurt you.” He barely managed the words, his voice shattering like glass against stone.

“You did.” Abella kissed his palm and placed his hand to her hip. “You hurt me here”—she lowered his hand to her thighs—“here”—she guided his hand between her thighs to cup her sex—“and here. And it feltgood, Tenthil. So good.”

Her heat radiated into his hand, and his palm slickened with the evidence of their joining—and of her continued desire. He brushed the pad of his finger against the little bud that brought her so much pleasure—herclit, as she called it—and suddenly wished that he possessed her short, blunt nails so he could touch her more intimately, could caress her delicate folds, and stroke her depths with his fingers alone.

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