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“Christ.” My hips pumped against hers, surging with mighty, jarring plunges, over and over again.
She panted, desperate mewling sounds exiting her throat as her hips repeatedly met mine, grinding forward as if she couldn’t wait for the power of my next heave. Her nails scored my back through the cloth of my tunic and her breasts bobbed against the front of her dress.
I felt her come through the mark just before her pussy began to quiver against my cock and contract with each pull of her orgasm. Then, with an almost animalistic growl, I joined her, pressing her so hard against the damn tree as I jetted inside her that I feared I might have cut off her air for a few seconds there.
But then her breath fell against my neck, and I buried my face in her hair, holding her a little looser as our bodies started to come down from the high.
This was why I was here, I realized. Not because my mark had targeted and promised me a future with her, but this.
Her.
Being with Quilla, still connected with her body as her fingers gently stroked the short hair on the back of my neck, I knew my place. She was the reason for it all.
I would do anything for this woman.
I drew in a deep breath, inhaling her as I asked, “Starting to believe that there is no one else for me but you yet?” I asked, stroking her thigh before beginning to ease out of her. “No mermaid princess or anyone?”
Her fingers drifted over the side of my neck as she bit her lip and grinned. “I’m not sure,” she teased, her eyes lighting with mischief. “You might have to convince me in a similar fashion quite a lot. At least twice a day to begin with.”
I laughed, loving that idea. “As you wish, empress.”
And I kissed her: a long, sweet, closed-mouth coupling. She swayed forward when I pulled back, and closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead to my cheek. Then she balled her hand into a fist and held it over my heart as if she might still want to be mad at me but couldn’t summon any anger.
“I know,” I murmured sadly. “I realize how difficult this is for you.” Kissing her brow, I stroked her hair. “But we have time. The rest of our lives, in fact. It’s been years since I first sensed you. So I’m used to waiting.”
“Years?” She looked up at me, the skin around her big brown eyes crinkling with curiosity. “You sensed me years ago? When?”
“When I was fifteen, right after my grandparents were killed.” Gathering a piece of her pale hair, I focused on threading it between my fingers. “I was in the village of Warren. When they sent me up to live with Everett, I had to travel with a caravan of suppliers who were picking up and dropping off merchandise, so instead of going straight to Tyler from Elaina, they detoured through Warren first to pick up a load of clear rock.”
Lifting my hand to my love mark, I traced the circle surrounding the heart. “I felt a great disturbance right here, and I remember knowing immediately it was you nearby. So I jumped from the wagon and ran in the direction it was trying to send me. But I couldn’t find you, and I never got quite close enough to really lock on to your essence, so I wouldn’t be able to find you again after that either. One of the guards chased me down and caught me before I could get that close. They forced me back to the wagon and chained me up to keep me from escaping.”
Quilla touched my cheek, sympathy in her gaze. Gently, her fingers lifted until they smoothed over the mark where she tapped it enough times to cause it to crackle and spark.
I caught her wrist and kissed her hand gratefully.
“Sometimes, I would break free from my uncle’s home and try to return to Warren, but I was always caught and dragged back, then beaten for running away and locked in some dungeon or another. When I met Jemma by accident one day while I was walking around the edge of the loch, contemplating a way to bolt without getting caught, Jemma came up to the surface and introduced herself. Her friendship was a balm I hadn’t realized I even needed. My cousin Axel was never cruel to me, but he wouldn’t get too friendly either, afraid it would upset his father. So I was grateful to have Jemma as a companion who freely talked to me. And when she asked out of curiosity one day what it felt like to kiss a ground-walker, I let her experiment, mostly as a thank you for her amity.” My gaze went to Quilla as I apologized to her with my eyes. “But that was all it ever was, I swear.”
She nodded, letting me know she believed me. Then she blinked back tears. “Did you really sense me in Warren?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “The day I turned eighteen and was free from Uncle Everett’s custody, I returned there, but I couldn’t sense you anywhere in the village.”
“What year was that?”
“Three-twenty.”
Quilla released a breath. “That was the very year I left the academy and began searching for amulets with Melaina. You probably just missed me.”
That sounded like my luck.
“I joined the High Cliff army after that, hoping it would give me a chance to get out and search for you. But I always wondered what would’ve happened if I had found you back then. It was strange, knowing someone existed somewhere out there that I belonged to but never having any assurance that I’d actually find them. I could’ve gone the rest of my life and never sensed you again. Friends would tell me I was crazy for holding on to one moment from years ago that kept me clinging to my hope. They’d encourage me to give up and just settle down with some nice woman. And a part of me did, I guess. I basically stopped searching and I eventually gave in to the ladies who were only interested in a couple of hours of companionship. But I could never seem to let myself allow anyone more than that. More belonged to you. Always.”
She sighed sadly and cupped my face. “I don’t feel like I’m worth it.”
“Oh, you’re more than worth it,” I assured, pressing my brow to hers. “Never doubt that.”
I opened my mouth, wishing I could explain what being in her mere presence did to me, but she gasped and slapped a hand over her inner forearm, right on top of her mark, distracting me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked a split second before I felt her pain through my tattoo. “Shit.” Gripping her arm to check her mark, I asked, “Is it just like before?”
