He’d done this a thousand times, splitting the wood into perfect halves before doing it once more, creating perfectly sized logs for his fire.
“I think that is enough.”
He froze. Her.
Damned if he didn’t have to breathe through the sudden angry swell of his cock. He wasn’t some teenager, stiffening at a breeze, but her voice was an instrument of hot sex and sweaty sheets. He couldn’t get the image of her out of his head: sea-colored hair spread out over his black sheets, eyes wide as he tossed her legs over his shoulders.
Finally, when he thought he had his dick marginally under control, he turned.
And the lie detector test determined that was a lie.
It took everything he had to stop himself from snatching her off her delicate little feet, slamming her into the nearest surface, and plundering her mouth.
I wonder how good she’ll taste.
“I … I do not know how I am here.” She looked behind her, into the house.
Our house, his mind blasted to him.
“Is this Seraph?”
At her uttered words, the scene changed, colors washing by them at rapid speed. In seconds, they were standing in the center of a startling white building, high archways overhead, and the marbled floor was inlaid with glittering diamonds and silver.
Heath spun around. “Where are we?”
His Fate turned pale, her mouth going slack before she closed her eyes, gripping her hair in her fingers and screaming. The world blitzed again, hard enough to make him nauseous, and they were back in the yard surrounded by chopped wood and his axe to the side, forgotten.
“What the fuck?”
He stalked toward her. Afraid his hand would pass through her again, he hesitated but was unable to stop himself from reaching out to her. Warm. Solid. Real. Her heated skin was smooth under his fingers, shimmering with pearlescent colors over gold.
Beautiful.
Heath pulled her to his chest. “I’ve got you, baby. Look at me.”
She kept her face buried in his chest. At full height, she was petite and small against him—so fragile that he feared breaking her. Her slim shoulders quaked with emotion he couldn’t place. He needed her to look at him, to share.
Give me your pain.
“Look at me baby,” he ordered softly, using two fingers to lift her face.
Up close, her eyes had specks of gold and tan in them, looking nearly like the Caribbean Sea kissing the sand.
He stroked away her tears with his thumb. “Talk to me.”
Her white teeth worried her full bottom lip, and he worked to keep his cock down. She needed his support, not him dry humping her like some dog on a pillow.
“I do not want to go back there.”
“Then we won’t. We don’t even have to talk about it.”
For now. Eventually, he’d want to know what made her so afraid, but he wanted her happy instead.
“Who are you, Foraltae?”
“I am called …” She shook her head, letting her voice trail off. “It does not matter.”
“It does to me.”
