Page 71 of Curses and Cures

"Lorcan," she utters, voice coated in pleasure, steeped in emotion.

My hand stills as I look up at her, a single tear slides down her cheek.

"Cyn, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"

"No," she replies, reaching for my wrist, holding me against her, looking at me like I’m her fucking savour. "Please, don't stop. Kiss me.”

With a thundering heart, I lean over the bath and press my mouth against hers, continuing to stroke her. She whispers my name in pleasured exhales as I begin to gently glide my finger in and out of her folds, intensifying the sensations coursing through her body. She chases the pleasure, rocking against my hand, sliding her tongue deeper into my mouth whilst I continue to draw out an orgasm from deep within her body.

Replacing pain with pleasure, sadness with lust, depression with joy.

"I've got you, my love," I whisper, drawing back, needing to watch her come undone.

Two pink spots of colour highlight her cheeks, as her internal walls tighten and her chest heaves with the oncoming orgasm.

"Come for me," I demand, pressing against her clit until she cries out in rapture; an expression of both surrender and bliss on her face.

It takes my breath away to see it—to witness such absolute beauty and abandon after suffering so much pain, sadness and loss. As our eyes lock, a million emotions pass between us: understanding, empathy and something much deeper than physical pleasure.

Love.

A few minutes later, I wrap a soft towel around Cyn’s body and carry her back to bed, holding her against my chest until she's fast asleep. Eventually, I drift off myself, feeling at peace for the first time in weeks, having hope that one day soon we'll get our girl back fully–whole, healed and free from the sorrow that holds her hostage still.

20

Cyn

Stirring, my eyes flutter open as wakefulness draws me to the surface of my consciousness and a stream of pink sunlight cuts across my chest and face. Beyond the window, dawn rises, bathing the sky with pinks, oranges and golds.

It reminds me of another, more blood-red sky in a country far away from here, and my heart pangs at the memory of Faith doused in the dying embers of the sun.

“A bad omen?”she had asked.

For her it had been, despite my promise that it wouldn't be.

I'd believed with everything I had that she would survive, that her baby would be born into the arms of a mother stronger than any woman I've ever met.

But she didn't. Soren had taken from her one last time and I can't... I don't knowhowto live with the unfairness of that, the brutality. I'm the one who's supposed to help people, take care of them, and when she'd needed me the most, I couldn't help her.

My throat tightens with tears, and I feel the stitches in my broken heart that Lorcan had sewn with his care and attention yesterday begin to pull apart at the memory.

If I had the power to turn back time I would've found a way to stop her from attending that awful night. If I hadn't been so badly beaten by Soren, I would have had the energy to make her a sleep tonic instead of passing out myself. There are a million things I could've done to save her. But I hadn't, and I'll have to live with that somehow.

Tears form in my eyes, and I can feel myself retreating back into that same dark headspace I've been in when the sound of someone singing pulls me up sharp.

Haunting.

Beautiful.

Familiar.

It's the voice of an angel. It'sCarrick.

The sound is so raw, so pain-filled that it forces something within me to awaken, the part of me I've felt slip away since I’d witnessed Faith's death: my intense need to heal what's broken.

Next to me Lorcan stirs, and I watch him for a moment, allowing Carrick's voice to wash over me as I study Lorcan's sleeping form. His silver-blonde hair is a mess of strands across his face, and his lips are parted as he softly snores in a deep sleep. My heart squeezes at the sight of him and I reach out, gently resting my fingers against his cheek knowing he put his life at risk to save me. That he must be so emotionally exhausted given insomnia hasn’t kept him awake this time.

"Thank you," I whisper, and I don't just mean for coming to rescue me, but for last night, and all the hours before when he looked after me as I drowned beneath sorrow and grief.

---