The memory of finding her in that shower on the brink of death turns my fire ice-cold.
But then, I see her.
Aurora lies on her back, knees drawn up, one hand gripping the sheets. The other is beneath the blanket, buried between her thighs, moving in slow, trembling strokes.
Her eyes are shut, her lips parted. Her brow is furrowed like she’s fighting her own body.
She’s glowing. Literally. That shimmer in the air around her is thicker than I’ve ever seen.
Her hips roll in slow, desperate circles. A moan slips out before she can stop it.
Fuck.
Maybe I should leave?
No. I’ve never left before, and I won’t start now.
I step closer. “Aura?”
Her eyes snap open. She startles out a gasp but doesn’t stop.
“It hurts. Talon,” she pants.
My gut tightens. I move to stand at the foot of the bed. My heart twists at seeing her in pain, while my cock jerks against my boxer briefs, already thickening at the sight of her. Heat coils low in my spine like my own magic wants to spark. I clench my jaw and breathe through it, locking my hands at my sides to keep them from shaking.
“You should’ve woken me.”
“I didn’t want you to see me like this. I’ve never...not before...”
Her voice breaks as she looks away. And then her hips lift with another desperate grind. Her hunger is boiling over.
My fingers flex and then curl into fists. I can feel her need licking at my skin, making it hard to hold still. Every muscle in my body strains not to cross the line I'm sorely tempted to.
While all my sexual encounters have been limited to my own hand, this is the first time Aurora's ever touched herself. It’s always been about feeding from someone else.
Even under the covers, I can tell her motions are jerky, rushed, and uncoordinated.
“Take off the sheet,” I say.
Her motions slow as her eyes widen. “What?”
I lick my lips and swallow down the lump in my throat, already knowing how I can help. “Take it off. Let me see you. Show me that pretty little pussy, Aura.”
Her mouth parts then shuts. She draws the sheet away slowly, baring herself to me, her thighs trembling and fingersslick and shaking where they rest between her legs. My breath catches like I’ve been punched in the chest.
Fae fucking witchtits.
My dick’s hard now, full, aching, pinned against the line of my waistband. Every part of me screams to touch her, to crawl on top of her and finish what she started.
Her glowing, sun-kissed skin stretches over the curves I’ve mapped a hundred times with my eyes but never my hands. Her sweat glistens in the light like flecks of gold dust, like magic seeping from her pores. Her full, round breasts rise and fall with every sharp, uneven breath, nipples dark and tight from the strain of holding herself back.
Her gorgeous thighs tremble. I’ve watched them sway behind the bar, straddle a barstool, wrap around strangers, but now, they’re parted, giving me a view that damn near brings me to my knees.
I shift my stance, trying to ease the pressure in my underwear. It’s useless. I’m a goddamn furnace, barely contained. My pulse hammers in my ears as my eyes devour every inch of her.
No matter how many times I’ve seen her naked, no matter that she walks through this apartment with little to no clothes on, I’m always struck stupid by her. Awed.
“Touch yourself for me,” I command. My throat is dry. My voice breaks at the edges. I feel wild with barely contained restraint.
