Lover Reborn

For him.

The reversal of her tense rigidity was so complete, it felt irreversible, and what did that matter? So consumed was she that she cared for naught but more of what she was getting.

THIRTY-ONE

Tohr orgasmed shortly after No’One’s first strike. There was just no stopping the contraction of his balls or the pulsing shocks that traveled up his shaft or the explosion that blew out the head of his cock as he jerked underneath the sheets.

“Fuuuuuck… No’One…”

As if she knew what had just happened, and what he was asking permission for, she nodded against his throat. Then went so far as to take his wrist and push his hand under the sheet.

No asking twice on that one.

Spreading his legs, he stroked his rigid length in a rhythm that matched the pulls on his vein. And as he released again, his arousal kicking like mad, he dipped down, gathered his sac, and squeezed hard. Pleasure and pain became a fun-house mirror, the distorting reflection of one against the other amplifying everything from the feel of the fangs in his neck to his below-the-waist eruptions.

The sense of letting go, of putting aside the pain he struggled with night and day, was such a fucking relief. He was the lake temporarily melted and free from its ice cover, and he reveled in his openness to her, the way he let himself lie there beneath her slight body, captured and held by her dainty weight and her powerful bite.

It had been so long since he had felt anything good deep in the permafrost of his soul. And because he knew that all of his burdens would be waiting for him when this halcyon sunrise faded, he drew himself even more into the experience, deliberately clothing himself in all the sensations.

When No’One finally retracted her fangs, the drawing lick of her tongue as it sealed the puncture wounds made him come all over again: the wet, warm drag over his skin translated down his body to his erection, which kicked and bucked, sending out more of what already covered his lower belly and soaked the sheets.

He stared up into her eyes as he orgasmed, biting down on his lower lip, kicking his head back—so that she knew exactly what he was doing.

And that was when he knew… she wanted some for herself.

Her luscious scent told him so.

“Will you let me make you feel good?” he said hoarsely.

“I… I do not know what to do.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes…” she breathed.

Rolling onto his side, he gently pushed her against the mattress. “All you have to do is lie there—I’ll take care of everything.”

The ease with which she complied was a humbling surprise—and an immediate cue, as far as his libido was concerned, to get her naked, mount her, and come all over her.

Not going to happen. For so many reasons.

“I’ll go slowly,” he groaned, wondering which of them he was speaking to. And then he thought… fuck, yeah, he was going slowly. He wasn’t sure he could remember what to do to a female—

From out of nowhere, a shadow crossed through his mind, jumped out of his brain, and barged in between them, darkening the moment.

With a sad ache, he realized he couldn’t remember precisely when he and Wellsie had been together for that final time; if he’d known their future, he would have paid much greater attention to so much.

No doubt, it had been one of those comfortable, forgettable, but ultimately profound sessions in their mated bed, with both of them half-awake and happy to ride the currents—

“Tohrment?”

The sound of No’One’s voice scrambled him, threatening to completely derail what was happening in the present. Except then he thought of Lassiter… and he thought of his shellan in that gray underworld, trapped in that desolate field of dust.

If he stopped now, he was never going to come back to this moment, this potential, this situation again with No’One… with anyone else. He was going to get permanently stuck on the road out of his grief—and Wellsie would never be free.

Damn it, as with so many things in life, you had to push through the obstacles, and this was the big one. It also wasn’t going to last forever. He’d had well over a year of mourning and grief, and there were decades and centuries of it in front of him. For the next ten minutes, fifteen minutes, hour—however long this lasted—he needed to stay only in the here-and-now.

Only with No’One.

“Tohrment, we can st—”

“May I loosen your robe?” His voice sounded dead to his own ears. “Please… let me see you.”

When she nodded, he swallowed hard and brought a shaking hand to the tie of her robe. The thing loosened with little or no help from him, and then the folds were free of her sheath-covered body.

His sex kicked hard at the sight of her barely concealed from his eyes, his hands… his mouth.

And that reaction told him that unfortunately… or fortunately… he could do this. He was going to do this.

Sliding his hand around her waist, he paused. Wellsie had had such a lush body, all feminine curves and female strength that he had loved so much. No’One wasn’t like that.

“You have to eat more,” he said harshly.

As her brows came together and she appeared to retract from him, he wanted to punch himself in the head. No female needed to hear about shortcomings at a time like this.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said, eyes probing the thin fabric that covered her breasts and her hips. “I just worry about you. That’s all.”

As she relaxed again, he took his time, stroking her through the simple linen coverlet she wore, slowly moving over onto her belly. That image of her suspended upon the crystal palm of the pool’s blue water, floating with her arms out, her head back and her breasts tight at the tips made him groan.

And gave him a specific direction.

Trailing his fingertips upward, he brushed the bottom of her breast—

The hiss she let out and the sudden arch told him that the contact was more than welcome. But there was no hurrying. He’d done that down in the pantry; not going to happen again.

With languid ease, he went higher until his forefinger surmounted her nipple. More hissing. More arching.

More exploring.

His body was roaring, his cock straining against the covers, against his self-control, against the tempo. But he was keeping things under wraps down below—and shit was going to stay that way. This was about her, not him, and the quickest way to flip that table would be to get his naked body anywhere near her.

It had to be her blood in him. Yeah, that was it. That was the cause of his crazy urge to mate.…

When No’One was thrashing her legs on top of the duvet, and she had gripped his forearm with her nails, that was when he cupped her whole breast, switching his thumb for his forefinger as he stroked her.

“Do you like,” he drawled as she gasped.

The reply she eventually gave him was nothing but a bunch of sounds; then again, all that erotic straining gave him his real answer.

She really liked the way she felt.

Encircling the small of her back with his arm, he gently lifted her up to his mouth. He had a moment’s hesitation before he latched on, just because he could not believe he was actually doing this to someone: It had never occurred to him that he would have any kind of sex life outside of memories, but here it was, up close and personal, so to speak, that electric connection sparking, his body naked and aroused, his mouth about to taste