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I turn my head to see his eyes are open, but something isn’t right. They’re glassy and unfocused. Like a daydream. Like death, but with breath in his lungs.
“Dessin?”
He blinks once, twice, eyes giving me a sidelong glance. A look that is cold and makes me shudder. His lips curl into a smirk as he rolls onto his side.
I know it immediately. Dessin is no longer beside me. He’s gone.
I can only pray I have already met this alter.
“He’s certainly no fun in these situations, is he?” That accent is delicious and silky.
Greystone.
I stop moving. Stare at him.
“Is he not giving you what you want?” He uses his arm to prop up his head, gazing down at me like I’m to be pitied for wanting what I want.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I tell him. “It’s not safe.”
Greystone looks around, examining the cave room with fake curiosity. “I don’t see any danger. And the vindictive brute has certainly relaxed enough to let me through.”
I huff out a loud sigh.
“Oh, don’t sound so disappointed,” he purrs.
“I’m not. You just surprised me.”
He tilts his chin closer to my face, hovering as if to taunt me with what he might do. “Are you well? You look flustered.”
I swallow, remembering what he told me when we first met. He keeps track of the arousal of this body and who causes it.
Me.
He surfaced for me. Because Dessin was aroused.
“Grey—”
“May I touch you?” he asks.
“I—well, I don’t know.” I want him to. My insides are coiling up, and heat flares in my gut. “I’m not sure how this works.”
“You’re afraid of hurting the avenging alter.”
I nod.
“You won’t. It isn’t just him that you can have. It’s the entire system. The other alters are all fond of you in their own way.”
I blink. A spike of pleasure twisting through me at the notion that each alter is fond of me. Do they watch us? Do they each want to meet me? I exhale, slowly, nodding my head. “Okay. You may touch me.”
He waits a few seconds, and I can almost hear him grin on the inside.
“Is this what you wanted from him?” He drags a finger across my collarbone, drawing a shiver from me. He smiles confidently. “It is, isn’t it?”
His fingers pass over the skin just above my breasts. My nipples harden into aching points that Greystone can see through my nightgown.
“You wanted him to touch you. You wanted to satisfy that agonizing need to pleasure yourself.” His voice is still masculine and deep; only now it has a seductive tone with soft, soothing edges.
His other hand slides over my thigh, holding the soft inner side closest to my panties. A white-hot blaze of electricity burns across my stomach, sending goose bumps to rise over my arms. I whimper, trying to clasp my mouth shut in hopes he doesn’t hear it.
