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RHYS
Pissed-off energy radiates through the SUV, but as mad as I am, the relief warming my chest holds me together. With Aurelia safely in my arms, it’s tough to remember just how angry I am that she launched herself off a fucking cliff.
Seven days, I think, pressing a kiss to her hair. Seven whole days without her.
How did I survive these last few decades apart when seven days has been the highest form of torture? Maybe it’s because I never really had her.
Maybe it’s because she was never really mine. The thought of going another day without her by my side has my heart falling to my stomach.
Aurelia had been held for a full week before she escaped—six days of which, she was unconscious. The second she opened her eyes, that knowledge etched its way into my soul.
None of it made any sense.
Typically, when I “die” so does she. When I’m hurt, we both bleed. But this time was different. This time, I got medical care immediately, while she was stuck bleeding and alone in the middle of enemy territory.
That had never happened—not in a century and a half—and the absence of her presence in my mind was like losing a bit of my soul. She’d always been there in my head: the bits and pieces of emotions, her needs, her wants, but it was so much more now—our bond only growing stronger since we finally came together.
I knew where she was the instant she opened her eyes, and the five of us got on a plane—not that our rescue attempt was necessary.
The first day she woke up, she broke out, and I don’t know if that’s scary or sexy as hell. Preferring to lean toward sexy rather than think of the alternative, I gather her more securely in my arms and stare out the windshield.
The closest airstrip to the Legion compound is in Eugene, and from there we rented a car to get to the isolated property hidden in the middle of the Willamette National Forest. Said vehicle is filled to the brim with a level of unease I have yet to experience in my lifetime.
A wave of irate energy radiates from Aidan and Ian who are stuffed in the cramped third-row seat. The brothers are still kicking themselves because they hadn’t realized that Javier had been a traitorous Revenant. Well, that, and the fact that we left them in the SUV in search of my woman.
In the front seats, West and Evan’s emotions match the brothers, but according to Evan’s grumblings, it’s just because we didn’t get to kill anyone. And me? I’m trying to forget that I watched Aurelia jump off a fucking cliff on clipped wings.
The palpable silence continues until we reach a bed and breakfast on the way to Eugene. The agreement to stop to let Aurelia get cleaned up and dressed in something other than blood-covered underwear is done mostly with grumbles and truncated grunts.
It’s probably fucked in the head that seeing her bloody, half-naked, and armed made my dick stand at attention, but I can’t make myself give a shit. I have every intention of utilizing our rented room’s full potential and fucking my woman on every available surface until the ache in my chest goes away.
I don’t care if we need to get as far away as possible from Iva and her fucking soldiers.
I don’t care if we have bigger problems.
I need her.
I need to feel for myself that she’s safe—that this isn’t all a dream.
Sneaking her in is easy, the bevy of wraiths in attendance giving us plenty of options as to who will ferry her into the sleepy B&B unnoticed. But being out of touching distance of her does something to me. I’m practically shaking by the time I get to our room, the call of the running water pushing my feet toward the cracked bathroom door.
The simple bathroom is decked out in shades of white, the steam from the falling water making the whole space seem almost like a mirage. Behind the waffle-weave shower curtain, Aurelia is wet, naked, and soapy, the draining puddle at her feet tinted pink from the spent blood rinsing from her skin.
The illogical urge to fuck her against the shower wall nearly overtakes me, and when she meets my burning gaze, I know she feels it, too. Not trying to rationalize it, I start stripping off my clothes, and I’m in the shower without saying a word.
Not that words are necessary.
The only essential thing right now is the connection we share—the need. I don’t wait—I just lift her against the cold tile, grab my cock, and line it up with her center, thrusting into her to the hilt.
“Yes,” she hisses, her fingers roughly threading into my hair and yanking my lips to hers.
Our tongues collide, and I couldn’t give a single shit about the rest of the world. It could all come crashing around our ears for all I care. All I need is her body in my arms, her taste on my tongue, and her slick, wet heat enveloping my cock.
She writhes, urging me to fuck her harder, faster, more. The noises she’s making—Fates—I love those fucking noises. They are one part moan, one part whimper—like she’s begging without ever saying a word. Snapping my hips harder, I give her what she’s asking for.
Aurelia’s breath hitches, her fingernails gouging the flesh on my shoulders, almost breaking the skin. The bite of pain races down my spine, and I can’t keep my pace, can’t hold in my growl. I pump my hips faster and faster until her wail of a moan signals her orgasm. The squeeze of her inner muscles nearly have me following her over the edge.
But I’m not ready to let her go yet.
