Page 36 of Collar Me Crazy
"I need to go." Sonya was already reaching for her coat. "Something's wrong."
She didn't wait for a response, following the pull that led her out of town and toward the sanctuary. The November morning was crisp and clear, but storm clouds were building on the horizon again, both literal and metaphorical.
The sanctuary felt different when she arrived, charged with the kind of energy that came before lightning strikes. She found Ryker in the main cabin, standing with his back to the door and his shoulders rigid with tension.
"You shouldn't be here," he said without turning around.
"Probably not. But here I am anyway." She closed the door behind her, noting the way his hands clenched at his sides. "What happened?"
"Varric. The full prophecy. Everything you and I suspected and more." His voice was rough, like he'd been shouting or screaming. "You need to leave, Sonya. Now, before this gets worse."
"No."
"You don't understand. The sacrifice the prophecy mentions, it's not just about me. It's about both of us. Whatever choice we make, whatever happens next, you're going to pay the price too."
"Then we'll pay it together." She moved closer, despite every self-preservation instinct screaming at her to run. "I'm not leaving you to face this alone."
"Why?" He spun to face her, and the pain in his green eyes nearly brought her to her knees. "Why won't you just walk away? Find someone safe, someone normal, someone who won't drag you into cosmic consequences?"
“Because I’ve spent my whole life alone with visions that no one else could carry. You’re the first person I’ve ever felt connected to. And it isn’t just the bond.” Her voice dropped. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“I am something to be feared.”
“So am I.”
Her words seemed to unravel something in him. When she reached up and pressed her palm to his jaw, stubble rasped against her skin. His big hand covered hers, trapping it there.
“What if they’re right?” he whispered, breath shaky. “What if loving you destroys everything?”
“What if it saves everything instead?”
Their lips met like gravity, inevitable and earth-shaking. His kiss was fierce, desperate, like he needed to brand her mouthinto memory. She pulled him closer by his shirt, fingers tangling in burnished copper strands of his hair.
“Sonya,” he murmured against her lips, torn between worship and warning.
She answered with a kiss that said she didn’t care about warnings anymore.
He lifted her, carrying her through to the bedroom. The quilts smelled of pine and winter, and she barely had time to register the space before his mouth was back on hers, insistent, hot.
“Are you sure?” His voice was low, dangerous with need.
“More sure than I’ve ever been.”
She unbuttoned his flannel, peeling it off to reveal the body she’d only glimpsed until now. Lean muscle carved from years of survival, skin kissed by sun, chest dusted with auburn hair that begged for her hands. She pressed her palms flat against him, delighting in the way his breath hitched.
“Fuck, Sonya,” he growled.
Her sweater joined his shirt on the floor. His hands were reverent, sliding over her curves, calloused thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts through her bra until she arched into him. He kissed her throat, her collarbone, every inch he could reach like he had all the time in the world, though the tremor in his body betrayed his hunger.
“I need you naked,” he muttered.
“Then take what you need.”
Her jeans slid away beneath his hands, leaving her in nothing but lace. His gaze lingered, green eyes burning so hot her skin flushed under the weight of it.
“Beautiful,” he rasped. “Every fucking inch of you.”
He kissed down her stomach, hooked his thumbs into her panties, and pulled them away with agonizing slowness. His breath warmed the inside of her thigh.
