"Stop it," I whisper, knowing what his words do to me.
"I mean it, angel. I'd spend my life like this if I could. I'd die a happy man if all I spent my nights at your side."
"Rexxan!" I beg, my mind scrambled. I don't even know what I'm asking him for anymore. He rolls his hips and I half moan, half sob into his shoulder.
"You intoxicate me," he murmurs, kissing my breasts. "You're a drug I've been high on for eighteen months, Rennalya. I'm so fucking addicted to you but I can't stop. I need you so bad."
"Stop talking!" I shout, his words weaving through my veins and pushing me closer to the edge. I feel the exact same about him, but I can't articulate that now. Everything between my ears has turned to mush. Oh gods, I can't move my legs.
"Why, Ren? Afraid you'll come again?" He teases, dark orange eyes on mine. "Because you will, together with me."
Every word drives me further to insanity, my nails clawing at the ropes. "I won't," I whisper, my lips swollen from his kisses as he takes us up to the edge. My gaze meets his and his ruthless eyes soften, one huge hand coming to cup my jaw.
"I'll look after you on the other side, Rennalya."
"I can't move!" I say, every muscle on my body shaking.
"I know, love," he replies, his forehead against mine. I long to cling onto him, or to feel the heat of his scars beneath my fingers. Anything to ground me. "One more. Take us home."
He buries himself inside me again, thick and heavy, his hips pinning me hard against the table. I've been on the edge for minutes, but I don't have anything left in me. "No," I whisper, closing my eyes.
"Yes," he argues, squeezing my jaw so my eyes open. I'm so close. So close. It's torture.
I can’t. He leans down, his teeth grazing my ear as he whispers a sentence that sends me tumbling over the edge.
"To be loved by you, Rennalya, is all I need for the rest of my life."
I sob his name. I can't get him to say those three little words to me, but that's the closest I'll get and it’s enough for me. The raw emotion in his voice has me coming around him in a mind-bending, thought-melting, body-breaking wave of pleasure. He drops his face to my neck, his body shaking too as I feel him reach one himself. He stays there a moment before pushing himself up, the muscles in his tanned arms flexing. His lips are swollen too, his dark gaze sated and relaxed. "Don't cry."
"I don't know why I'm crying," I say, shaking on the table. It's involuntary. I have nothing left in me, every ounce of my energy drained. I think that was a life-affirming moment for me.
"Did I hurt you?"
"Only in a good way," I say, as he wipes my tears. I feel physically broken, but oddly peaceful too. The usual chaotic hustle and bustle inside my brain is quiet for once, like all my thoughts are walking instead of running. It’s nice.
He steps off the table and I take him in. He's a work of art, the personification of power. The V of his abdomen tenses as he quickly dresses his lower half, starting to untie the four ropes at each corner of the table. "I can't feel my legs!" I say, frantically.
"Hey, don't panic. They've just been tied up for a while." He rubs life back into them gently, before doing the same to my arms, caressing my mind with praise about how well I did today. He runs a towel over my midsection, sitting me up and running it over my back, before cleaning the table beneath my hips. "How do you feel?"
"Tired. Well-fucked. Overwhelmed. Sleepy. Mind-blown,” I whisper, as he takes us into the bedroom.
I crawl into bed on trembling arms and shaking legs, enveloping myself in the covers. "Did you mean it?" I whisper, as he sits beside where I lie. "That you want to be loved by me?"
"I'm not sure that I've ever meant anything more," he murmurs, his fingernails scratching my aching back gently as I fight sleep. “I don’t know what it means, Ren. We make no sense, and we can’t be together in a normal way, but we have tried and tried for eighteen months to pretend this isn’t real but it is. I can’t pretend any longer.”
“Neither can I,” I mumble, rolling into his side. I bask in the warm, inebriating presence of the Forest King and succumb to the sleep that hovers above me.
* * *
I’mjolted awake by a hard knock on the door. It's dark out. It must be the middle of the night. Rexxan is sitting up beside me, reading a book in the dim light. Does this maneversleep? All he does is read research journals, all night, every night. He's obsessed with knowledge. It can't be good for him.
"Yes?" He asks, running a hand through his dark hair and tying it up. Sleepily, I reach up and pull out a little strand so it flops in front of his face. He rolls his eyes at me.
"Aiaeleyne," comes a deep voice.
"Eile," says the King, sitting up a little straighter.
"Delene assesa cinte loqueia," replies the voice, and Rexxan stands, shrugging on a shirt. I have no idea what they’re saying, but Rexxan looks grumpy about it.
