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Stomach swooping, breasts tightening and tingling in anticipation, she reached up to bring him closer. Opening to him, answering the dipping thrust of his tongue with a teasing flick of her own. His soft laugh vibrated along her bones as he pulled her into the cushioning prickle of loose hay upon the loft floor. Lay beside her, elbow crooked, head resting upon his hand, watching her with a weather eye.
“The one good in being deathless, your brother’s outrage holds no threat.”
“He doesn’t understand.”
“He understands too well. He knows the savagery lurking within because he experienced it himself.”
“What stayed your hand?”
His brows raised on a question.
“I spoke to my sister-in-law. She says you could have killed them, but you didn’t. Why not? What held you back?”
He dipped his shoulder in a quick shrug. “The only force that chains the beast inside me every time it tries to surface. You.”
“You didn’t know me then.”
“I can’t explain it, Sabrina. It was your face I saw. Your love I remembered.”
Heat stole along her limbs with the strange sensation of being borne along a swift-moving current. Tumbled out and under so that she couldn’t say where up and down or light and dark were.
Daigh’s stare anchored her, his body hard and solid beneath her fingers. His breath and his heart slow and steady.
“You’ve been given a rare gift,” she whispered. “To recapture the life stolen from you. The fate that would have been yours had you not been killed at Pentraeth with Hywel.”
“The woman who would have been mine?”
“She still can be.”
Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him on the jaw. The chin. Her breasts crushed against his chest, their hearts thundering in unison. With exquisite care, he popped button after button down the front of her gown. Eased her free of petticoats and stays until she lay exposed, her flesh pebbled against the cool air and his feather-touch. His tongue swirled and sucked the sensitive aureoles. Nipped her taut, the tingle knifing straight to her wet and throbbing center.
She squirmed against the rough splay of his palms and the sweet exploration of his lips as he rubbed and kissed his way over her body. Skimmed her stomach. Stroked her hips before caressing her inner thighs, then probing the aching core of her. She melted into him. Bit her lip against a moan, while fumbling him free of his clothes. In the dim light from a setting moon, his skin shone pale as marble, the scars glistening silver white.
She followed the path of the intersecting lines, each mark a story of soulless brutality, until he gently pulled her hands away. Drew them up over her head. Pinned her beneath him with a stare of such greedy hunger she shivered. Slanting his mouth over hers, he kissed her. Long and deep. Leaving no time for second thoughts or regrets or even a stolen breath.
She wantonly twisted and writhed against his imprisonment. Ground against him. Lifted her head to take his tongue deeper into her mouth.
He broke free first. Gasping against her seduction.
He lay between her legs, his midnight gaze burning a path over her, a devil’s smile lifting a corner of his mouth.
“’Dwi’n cofio hwn. I remember this,” he murmured, his tone wistful. “I remember you.”
She rocked against him, letting him feel her growing need. The rising power of her yearning.
And with a groan of animal need, he pushed himself inside her. Thrust deep and hard and fast.
She gasped, the excitement building and growing. The power behind their joining crackling the air between them. She lost herself in the glide of supple muscles, the hard sculpted back, the chiseled face. She watched him pleasuring her. Smiled as their rhythm brought them closer. Stars in her eyes. A deep pooling heat building between her legs. Expanding to flow up from her center. Winding her like a watch spring until, with a shuddering, swallowed gasp he kissed quiet, she peaked. Ground against him, refusing to let the glory end. Waves pulsed through her like ripples in a pool. Outward, fainter, but her body quivered with each pass until spent, she dozed.
The heavens spun overhead, shadows lengthening across the floor, Sabrina asleep in his arms.
Daigh dropped his gaze to where her hand rested upon his chest, the web of scars glowing silver in the moonlight. For a moment, he reveled in the sweet ecstasy of simply being alive. Heart beating. Blood pumping. Lungs expanding with every breath he drew.
He’d had this and lost it and gained it again. Perhaps it was a gift. The men he’d fought with and died beside—what would they trade for a chance to break free of the underworld, even for a few precious moments? A chance to gaze upon a sky vast with stars. To smell the musky sweet scent of a leaf-strewn wood. To love a woman to climax.
And how hard would they fight to hold on?
How hard would he?
