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“What’s happening?”
A tremble runs through his body. “I don’t – I can’t…” He grits his teeth and forces himself to look away from me. “Zora, push me off.”
“What?” I ask breathily as he hardens against me.
“If you don’t push me away, I’m going to –fuck.” He shudders as I claw my fingers into his back.
Pressure builds in my chest, in my head.I need release, and for some reason, the only thing that makes sense is clawing deeper into his skin, ripping him to fucking shreds,feelingall that he is.Am I panting?I try to clear my vision, but Cristen blurs before me. He’s not a man anymore. He’s…he’s…An essence.
I grab the back of his neck and yank his lips down to mine.Not enough. I sweep my tongue between his lips, and his meets mine with the same terrible need. Our teeth clack together as we force our tongues deeper, almost like we wish we could crawl into each others’ skin,becomeone being inside and out.
I moan into his mouth, and he scrapes his hands up beneath my shirt. He squeezes my waist and pushes me back until I bump into a tree before he grinds against me.
I tear my mouth from his and viciously bite my way down his jaw, his neck, claiming him over and over with my teeth.
He mirrors me, groaning with each slice of my teeth.
You’re mine, a little voice echoes through my head,to kill. I reach a hand down and cup the bulge of his pants, then give it an aggressive tug.
His abs tense up, and he slams his forearm into my neck with a low, menacing growl.
It knocks me from whatever fucked up stupor I’m in, and my eyes fly wide as I immediately let go of his Gods-damn balls. “Shit.”
Cristen’s gaze is entirely black, every thread of color gone. It’s as if he went to the black hole inside my head, and he devoured it with each swipe of his tongue and every bite to my skin.
Maybe he did, I realize, panic and discomfort making knots in my stomach.
His arm pushes harder against my neck, and I thrash against his hold. My feet lift from the ground, and I kick aimlessly at his legs.
“Cristen!” I shriek. I gulp in a breath, then butt my head forward, knocking into his.
He groans and stumbles back, his hands flying up to his forehead.
I drop to the ground and brace myself on my knees. I trail my fingers over my neck, the skin tender.It’s sure to bruise. I look up at him in confusion, rage. “The fuck was that?” I hiss, and it hurts to talk.
He grits his teeth and bows over, clutching his crotch and shaking his head. “Gods, I don’t know.” He lifts his head, and the knots in my stomach ease at the sight of his normal, swirling gaze of color. “Fuck, Zora, I’m so sorry.” He hurries to my side and kneels in front of me. He brings his thumb up to my lip, then pulls it back to reveal blood. I don’t remember him biting methere, but I certainly remember elsewhere.
My eyes train to the teeth marks along his neck, and his find mine, too.
“I swear to you, I’ve never,neverhad that happen. If I knew I would put you in danger like that, I never would’ve tried to read your threads,” he promises, his voice tight and his expression filled with guilt.
“Did you see anything during all of that?” I ask, cringing as my vocal cords tingle with pain.
“Yes and no. It was like the universe fell away and all I could feel was you and…fury.” Cristen gently runs his fingers over my throat. “Forgive me. I don’t know what came over me.”
“This is uncharted territory then, for both of us,” I say.
He nods. “I’ll need to be more careful around you.”
My eyes drift to his lips. I shouldn’t want more after what just occurred. I shouldn’t want him at all.But I do. I bite my tongue.
He traces his fingers up to my cheek, his eyes darkening to maroon and magenta threads. “Deep down, I’ve known I needed to distance myself from you. Whatever is between us, I’m not sure it should ever go further. I wish it could, but I won’t risk hurting you.”
My focus drifts to his tattoo. The circles move in that strange optical illusion, capturing my attention and driving me nuts. “Can I know what that means now?”
Cristen drops his hand from my face and helps me stand. For a moment, we hold on to each other, before he takes a stiff step back. He runs a thumb over his tattoo. “What does it look like to you?” His expression turns nervous as if my answer could solve a thousand riddles.
I lift a brow. “I’d assume the same as everyone else. It’s overlapping circles, but they’re intricately woven to create some kind of illusion.” I shrug. “I like it. I wouldn’t mind my own.”
