Page 141 of Seven Oars
“In the hearts.”
“I only have one, you know.” She smiled.
He frowned again.“Do you? How can you live with one heart?”
“Fully.”
“Are you lying to me again?”
Rosamma laughed. Oh, it was glorious in a subtly disturbing but joyous way.
“No. We’re just different, Fincros. Maybe too different…”
“Here.” He took her hand and placed it high on his chest, right where his markings would be, hidden by the shirt.
Rosamma’s breath stopped.
“No, breathe. Easy. And listen.”
The“music” kept screeching from afar.“I am. I can hear.”
“Close your eyes. Feel it from my heartbeat.”
She did as he instructed. She wanted to hear what he heard, even though it was impossible.
The subtle quiver of his heartbeat beneath her palm distracted her.
She flexed her fingers, feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath the scratchy fabric of Phex’s defender shirt, a shirt that, if she were honest with herself, looked good on him.
His hard veins bulged under her touch. His throat vibrated with the increasing rumble of his Rix hearts, smooth, strong. A living machine.
And then it happened. The grating, nails-on-chalkboard sounds began to align with his heartbeat. The high-pitched hum acquired a measured cadence, and the random bass fell into rhythm.
What had always been an assaulting cacophony of notes became an orchestra.
Her eyes flew open.“Finn…”
“That’s what we hear.”
His eyes deepened, pulling her in, and she couldn’t look away.
Temptation overcame her.
She placed her other hand on his shoulder, digging her fingers into his hard flesh, savoring its taut flex, his pure, unadulterated strength. She wanted it. Wanted to touch him everywhere, to slide her hands under his shirt, to feel his heartbeats beneath his skin, to press her face into it.
To own this beast whole.
An ocean of feelings unlocked inside Rosamma. Along came a shock—was it she, the source of something this monumental? She was too weak to harbor this bottomless vortex of sensations churning inside her now.
She yanked her hands off as if burned, her fingers tingling from the sudden emptiness where his flesh had been.
So much male.
For a crazy moment, she'd thought she could drive him, this predator who killed ruthlessly and without remorse.
And the idea had been intoxicating.
“You find me amusing, Striker Fincros, because you’ve never seen anyone as strange as me,” she whispered.“But I am a living being. I hurt inside.”
