Page 130 of Cosmic Castaway

“No, I’m so close,” he whimpered.

“You’re mine.”

“Yes, Mate. Yours. All yours. Please.”

I started to ride him again, pounding back. He grabbed my cock, pumping it. His thumb swiped over the tip, and my head fell back. Serlotminden thrust into me, hitting my prostate as he jerked me off.

“I’m coming, Honey.”

“Cover me in your seed. Claim me. I need it, Bartholomew.”

His name ripped out of my mouth and my hearing went to fuzz. Serlotminden rutted into me once, twice before his cock kicked and warmth flooded me. I groaned as his cum filled me. With a shudder, I fell on top of him, his softening cock inside of me. My breath was harsh as I lay on his chest, shaking.

He teased the slight curls that had started to grow at the base of my skull and said, breathlessly, “That was amazing. The best I’ve ever had.”

Very doubtful, but I kissed his chest, licking one of his nipples. He wiggled, oversensitive, and yet I continued, because I liked to torture him.

“I think we should spend the rest of the trip here, alone,” he said.

“If it is anything like the tension in the cafeteria, I agree.”

Serlotminden rolled me over, kissing my neck. “Another round?”

“Give me a few minutes.”

He grinned. “We have all the time in the world.”

We did. I pressed my lips against his. Serlotminden was mine, and I was never going to let him go.

Chapter 47

Never will I abandon you.

Serlotminden was asleep beside me. He had been extremely cuddly after sex and our shower. I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but he was tense. We needed to talk about it, and we would.

I brushed his long hair, and he wiggled closer to me, whining in his sleep, which made me smile. My husband was loud no matter what we were doing. I twisted the gold ring on my finger back and forth. Mindy had been so pleased when he presented me with the simple gold band, grinning and beaming as he practically bounced. He’d been desperate for us to be official, and I wasn’t sure why. We were already mates, which was the same thing as husbands, but he’d needed it more than I did. I’dtold him again and again I was going to stay. He’d said he was fine. He’d said he had what he needed, but still… there was a tension in him I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Now wasn’t the time to bring it up, even if sleep hadn’t been easy for me tonight. I’d fallen asleep with Mindy, but not much later, I’d woken up with a nightmare filled with the ghosts of my past chasing me, screaming at me, and hating me. I’d shot awake, and I hadn’t been able to sleep since.

I slid out of bed and meandered into the living room. Water. I would get a drink, then try to fall back asleep next to my husband. That was an odd yet nice thought. Pookie was curled up in her nest and surrounded by disemboweled toys. She snorted, legs thrashing, and I swallowed.

No. Please, no.

I pushed the past down, but the memories rose like the tide and swept me out to sea. I was shoved and pushed by the sights of blood and broken bodies, sounds of screams and dull thuds, scents of piss and sweat, and all the while I tried to find my way out of the mire, but it refused to release me.

Pain shot through my legs, and I jolted. Sometime in my haze, I’d fallen to the ground. My knees throbbed, but that was preferable to the hellscape that my mind had dragged me to. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t let it go. Even now, as I closed my eyes, the burned and broken bodies of the people who had died, the people I had failed to save, appeared.

“There are no ghosts,” I whispered.

Fyn had told me so. I was the one trapping them here. While I doubted it was my fault I kept being whisked into the past at the most random of moments, I knew my guilt was keeping the faces of the dead front and center. I wanted to not see them, but… it felt like I didn’t deserve to be free of them. I had failed, hadn’t I? I had to be punished.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I rested my chin on my bent legs and let myself think about what happened without guilt or emotion. Logically, I accepted I had been a victim. If I had not closed that bolt, killing those who were still alive, or had chosen to stand up to Agk, I would have died. I knew it, and yet my heart continued to feel differently. It was like I could accept one thing with my brain while believing something radically different with my heart.

This was not a wound that would heal any time soon, nor would my guilt fade simply because I was done feeling it. I was going to have to forgive myself, and I didn’t know how to do that yet. But I planned to figure it out. Slowly, painfully, and without hating myself too much in the process, I would forgive myself for what I did on Xome.

Letting my eyes close, I allowed the ghosts of my past to come and haunt me with their screams, but instead of fleeing, I whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re dead. I’m sorry I locked the door. I’m sorry any of this happened to us.”

Apologizing wasn’t a magical cure, but it did make me feel the slightest bit better. I was more than willing to take it as the victory it was.

---