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A sob tore out of him, came out a roar of rage and sorrow. His blood was congealing. He had to protect her, to honor her,
to give her anything she needed. But how could he ever do that when he wouldn’t be there for her? If not tomorrow then soon anyway? He just had to find a way. He would…
She half turned in his arms and they snatched feverish kisses and caresses, gasped and groaned and writhed together in a tangle and somehow ended up naked. He turned her again, lay over her back, clamped himself around her, arms and legs. Protecting, warding off the world. She squashed herself against him, demanding him, giving him herself. “Dante—darling, just take me…Don’t hold anything back!”
He took her. Gave her himself. Held nothing back. His roar harmonized with her moan as he invaded her, as she consumed him. He had to plunge deeper into her being, surrender further. Had to give her what she was desperate for, all he had to give, his passion, full release and succor.
His rhythm built, her cries rose—and then it all detonated. The annihilating ecstasy that would silence agony, assuage need, wipe out existence.
They convulsed together until their cries were of desperation for the pleasure to subside, the keening edge to blunt. He poured himself into her in burst after draining burst, wished he’d disintegrate inside her.
With the last pulse of pleasure he collapsed on top of her, drove her into the lumpy mattress. A relieved sound poured out of her when his full weight bore down on her. He understood it. The same sound was welling out of him at feeling her precious body cushioning him, completing the intimacy, anchoring the magic of what they’d just shared.
They didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. They just rested, regained their breath then loved again. And again.
Then it was dawn and they hadn’t slept. The first bleak ray of light came through the grid window, portending the end. Gulnar was draped over him, her lips working patterns around his wound. She suddenly spoke, her satin voice cracked and thick with her abandon in his arms. “Sorry I brought you here. This place…really stinks…”
He dragged her up, swallowed her faltering words. “I’ve had all-luxuries suites, Gulnar. Color coordinated, silk sheets, incense burning, lights of a hundred artfully arranged candles, mirrors, water beds, music—and none of it matters. Only you, experiencing you, your mind-blowing beauty—your desire, feeling you, just the luxury, the magic of your pleasure and fire and life, Gulnar. I’ve never known such hunger, never had such satisfaction then such desperation all over again. Never, Gulnar…”
She turned in the curve of his still trembling body and murmured in his chest, “I’ll just sleep till…”
She didn’t complete the sentence.
Till what? Till he left?
He could tell she didn’t really fall asleep. But she was giving him a way out without a confrontation. Without a goodbye.
He took it. At eight a.m., when he finally mustered enough will and co-ordination to move, he slipped from around her. It felt as though he’d snatched off his skin. He stood there dressing, his eyes hot and wet as he looked at her, twisted in the bed sheets, voluptuous, innocent and the one and only thing that mattered. Nothing else would matter again.
He paused at the creaking door, wished she’d call him back. That she’d at least sob in her pretense of sleep, give him a sign she wished he’d stay…
What was he thinking? That she’d want him to stay so he could tell her he couldn’t? Soothe his torment and add to her suffering? But she wasn’t suffering—was she…?
Just get out of here!
He did, stumbled out of the derelict building and into the ugly light of a new barren Azernian morning, truly lost for the first time in his life.
Where did he go from here? And why?
He’d just left all reason—and all his reasons—up there in that squalid room.
Gulnar held back the storm of misery until his footsteps faded. Then it pummeled its way out of her, slamming her around the bed, shaking her bones apart. She’d thought she’d wept, known desperation and loss before.
She’d known nothing.
Dante. Dante. Gone. Over. It was all over.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“IT’S all over, Gulnar. All the pain and loss.”
“You’re back!”
“Yes, I am, Gulnar. I couldn’t stay away.”
“Oh, God, Dante. Say that again…”
“Did you hear what I said?”
