As if this erases the horrible moments she had to endure and gives her memories of lovemaking she can savor and delight in.
I move faster. Pleasure transforms into yearning. Time wields away reason, and her need becomes more apparent. Her hands roam with fervor and place demands I’m all too happy to concede to.
I fuck into her and give her what she craves from me. I coax her body higher, until desperate cries escape from her lips and her back bows as her climax hits with brutal intensity. I met her pleasure with my own, drawing more gasps from her lips, and stealing the air from her lungs, until my own release crests.
My balls begin to tingle, and my body goes rigid. My ass muscles tighten as my entire body gives over to it, and all too soon, I empty myself deep inside her, pumping my release into the woman who’s captured my every thought. The moment I’m spent, I close the distance between her mouth to mine, laying my own claiming brand on her lips. One I hope she will remember long after this day.
When I draw back, I stare into the eyes that have captured and held my soul for longer than she knows. “You are mine now, Eliora. Just as much as you are his. A bond that will stand beyond what this world's end has in store for us. Do you understand me?”
She gives me that same small nod that I don’t accept.
“No, love. Tell me. Don’t hide. Share your thoughts with me.”
I hold her gaze until she answers me properly, until the words form. “I don’t know why or how, but—” She palms her chest and rests her hand over her heart. “This feeling…I recognize it. It has always been a connection I couldn’t explain. For years, I fought it with everything I had. But doing so now, I…it feels exactly like what you said. Fighting any more feels impossible.”
The tension in my shoulders eases. My thumb brushes along her jaw.
“Good,” I murmur, a faint smirk curving my mouth. “Because fighting with you is the last godforsaken thing I want to do. This is far more enjoyable.”
She rolls her eyes and slaps my bicep in mock offense, though there’s no real heat behind it.
I fall onto my side and bring her with me. She settles easily, instinctively, burying her face into my neck. Her breath warms my skin. My arms close around her, anchoring her there. Behind her, Pollock shifts closer, claiming the space at her back. His arm slides over her waist, where mine do not, his presence a permanent and unmovable one, but in a different way than my own.
She falls asleep the way she was always meant to, between us.
Her breathing gradually evens out. Her fingers slacken where they rest against my chest.
Only then do I lift my gaze to my brother.
He hasn’t stopped watching her.
There is no mistaking what lives in his expression. He is taken with her. Entirely. He wants her in his arms, that much is clear, but for now, he is content simply because she remains here.
Alive. Breathing. Ours.
“Just be grateful she no longer wants to kill you,” I say lightly.
He exhales, long and slow, and something flickers across his face — a memory of how close we came to a very different ending.
“There’s always tomorrow,” he replies dryly.
“Yes,” I answer, adjusting her slightly so she’s more comfortably tucked against me. “So perhaps try not to enrage her quite so thoroughly next time. And for now, stay out of her thoughts unless she invites you in.”
He rolls onto his back, one arm folding behind his head. “The spear through the gut delivered that lesson rather effectively.”
“Then there’s hope for you yet.”
His quiet chuckle fills the dim room. After a moment, his eyes drift to mine.
“Will you tell me how you met?” he asks. “What I missed out on. My mind won’t quiet, and I doubt I’ll sleep unless you give me something else to think about. I need a distraction.”
I nearly roll my own eyes at this because there were many nights in our long existence when I had to do precisely that, keep him occupied so he didn’t do something reckless and get us both in trouble. His mind has always been a restless labyrinth, and stillness has never suited him.
I glance down at the beauty in my arms. Her breathing is slow, even. Peaceful in a way neither of us has ever mastered.
Then I look back at my brother.
And I begin.
