Page 78 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

As I ground into her, finding our rhythm, sliding one hand down—first to cup her breast and tweak her nipple, then up the inside of her arm where she braced, tracing the delicate skin with my fingers as I began to pound, sliding my fingers between hers and gripping her hand with mine.

With the other hand, I slid a palm down the back of her thigh, then back up, until her skin prickled and her head came up, then I reached around to stroke her from the point where we joined, then up, slowly, pressing, sliding, until I found that nub, massaging, up and down, slower than my thrusts, but insistent—and cursed when I felt her begin to tremble and she gasped.

Bridging myself over her, panting in her ear, her body held to me, but enveloping me, nothing existed but her.

‘Silence… we must—’

‘Donavyn!’

Curled over her, still biting on her shoulder, my hands shook with the force of my need as Bren stiffened, then arched, her back bowing, ass rising and knees trembling as she found her peak.

She clamped down on me and I swallowed a roar, forced to cover her mouth again when she sucked in to find air for her own cries.

Bren threw her head back, my hand clawed over her mouth, and the rush of her joy and bliss shoved me over the edge of control. My orgasm detonated, taking my sanity with it.

Holding silence brought everything into perfect, crystalline focus for a single breath… then we fell. Tumbled off that summit.

Together, we twitched and jerked, I dug my boots into the dirt for leverage as we rode out the final waves then slid back to earth together.

Slowly, devastatingly, reality returned…

I cupped the top of her head as she slumped a shoulder against the tree and let it take our weight. My knees shook, and my temple against her neck stuck to her with sweat.

Then a shudder rippled through her and I went still, blinking, facing the reality of what we’d done.

The risk.

Holy shit.

“Bren—”

“Thank you,” she whispered, shaking her head and giving a small, shaky laugh. “Thank you, Donavyn. I love you.”

We took pains to separate slowly. I used a handkerchief to clean her gently, leaving kisses on her thighs and cupping the back of her calves until her knees stopped shaking. But finally, we faced each other. She combed fingers through my hair, as I tucked her breast back into her dress, and we made ourselves presentable again. Then, with high points of color in our cheeks, and sweat at our temples, our eyes met.

We both went still, drinking each other in.

It was a risk. A stupid, reckless, necessary risk.

I could feel her happiness, yet, also felt the pinch of something cold and fearful underneath it.

Tucking a fluttering tendril of hair behind her ear, I swallowed. “What is it? What pains you?”

She smiled and shook her head. “I fear everything less and less… except losing you,” she said, her eyes dropping to my chest as if the words embarrassed her.

I grasped her chin and lifted it, made her meet my gaze. “That makes two of us, Bren,” I muttered.

She inhaled sharply and let her hand slide down to the center of my chest, right over that space where the bond nestled next to my heart. My body—and the bond itself—leaped for her touch. “I’m just grateful you’re here,” she finished in a whisper. Then tipped her head against my chest.

I held her there, tightly, for some time as our hearts slowed and synced.

When the first boom exploded overhead, my body snapped to attention—expecting attack.

But even as Bren startled, I pulled her close and pointed up into the sky where crackling, red and white lights burst into flame with a staggering boom, then cascaded, dropping towards earth and fading to nothing, before another night flower bloomed.

Again and again, the lights and fire surged, scattered into fragments, then descended in cooling trails that disappeared before they reached the treetops.

Neither of us spoke.