His smile was an exquisite sun burning brightly between them. “Mine!” he shouted and slammed into her.
Asherah’s world went still. Power suffused her, snaking up from her stomach and out through her extremities. Heath growled, pushing harder. Each thrust of his cock tore through her, pleasure bowing her back as lightning ran rampant through her bloodstream.
He repeated “Mine” with each advance and moaned with each retreat. She held on as the sea buffeted them, produced by her power. She could not hold on to it. The sunlight flickered, the windows rattled, and the house groaned.
Heath’s possession was like nothing she had ever experienced. The tender tissues and nerve endings of her inner walls twitched. She gripped him tightly, milking his cock for all it was worth. Heath curled his fingers in her hair, forcing her to look at him. She tried to open her eyes wider, but all she could achieve was a lazy, half-mast attempt. His gaze bored into hers, his teeth clenched, his lips pulled back as he stroked inside her. She scored her nails down his back.
“Yes, faster!” she yelled, and he obliged her. His other arm went around her back, bringing her ass off the couch, and he hammered into her, his pace faster than her eyes could catch.
Asherah’s jaw went slack, her eyes slid closed, and she gave herself over to the feelings. Her power wafted around her until she could feel it against her skin. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and then she felt something wrench at her chest. Asherah opened her eyes to see the familiar silver light, from Heath this time, spreading toward her chest. Tendrils wrapped around it, making the connection stronger than it was before, binding them closer together as their souls reached out for the other.
“Yes, Heath,” she cried.
She could feel him in her head as a movie reel of memories played through her mind. Once more she saw Heath as a boy, growing up a street urchin. Saw him morph into a handsome child, the hint of his later sexiness stamped on his features. She saw him as just a teen, running the streets with a girl with blue spiky hair and a lanky male who smiled lopsided as he watched her. They wore odd clothing Asherah couldn’t place, and it didn’t look like Seraph or Daemon.
Each memory quickened Asherah’s heart. He was hers. She wrapped her arms around Heath as the pleasure began to tighten in her groin. It spiraled until she screamed her release into the air. Heath grunted and then exploded within her. She felt his essence jet into her body. She laughed, feeling whole, as if a piece of her she had never known was missing had returned.
“When you wake up, Asherah, I’ll be there. I promise.”
She could only dream.
“That’s a big fucking tower.”
No shit, Sherlock.
Heath couldn’t argue with Cynes. The tower was massive, with sleek lines and no visible footholds. He and his men hovered outside, shielded by the forest, and tried to find a way inside.
As the Fae got closer, they saw the monstrosity nearly touched the sky. Tall marble columns, thick gates, and golden sconces floating in the air greeted them. Skuld’s home. They were close to Ash.
“Could just go through the front door,” Kallan remarked.
It was unguarded, and that made Heath hesitant to storm the place. If a home wasn’t protected, its owner obviously didn’t believe something would be strong enough to face it. He had to think about that. But he was so close. He could feel Asherah, and his soul vibrated.
“Might be the best way in. Take the main floor and go from there,” Heath mused.
“We can do it. We won’t know what we’re facing when we go in there,” Eiravel added, looking over the tower.
So that was the plan: run in, fuck shit up, and find a way to get Asherah past the blood runes she’d mentioned. He was still thinking about that, but they couldn’t stand out there forever. He promised he’d be there when she opened her eyes and he was going to keep that promise, by gods.
“Then we run the fuck over them,” Heath announced as he pulled Wraith from its sheath and commanded it to duplicate.
His men slipped from the shadows of the trees and streaked toward the front. Heath didn’t care what came at him—everything would fall on his blades before he lost Asherah. He gripped his swords in his hands, twirling them to loosen his wrists.
Cynes took the lead, an arrow already notched, with Eiravel not too far from him. Kallan and Teague took the rear, covering their retreat if needed, and Heath stayed to the center to keep watch.
The onyx sang under their steps when they reached the gaping maw of a door.
“No chance of coming in quietly,” Eiravel quipped.
Heath nodded curtly. “So be it.”
They raced in, weapons ready, and they weren’t disappointed. The Hollows were indeed waiting for them—a mass of the animals.
It had been many years since Heath had seen the white tiger-like shadows some magic users could create. They were living creatures, but their true sizes were difficult to determine. One usually had a hell of a time figuring out what was shadow and what was real.
It was a good thing he had an affinity for the tactic.
“Follow where I cut,” Heath ordered.
