“This is what I want.” He shifted, positioning himself so the blunt head of his cock slipped between her slickened folds and pressed at the entrance to her body. “You’re what I want.”
Her body said “yes” before her mind could catch up—her legs parting and accepting him, curving so one heel slid up and crooked behind his knee. “I—” she began, but then broke off on a gasp when he thrust inside her in a single powerful surge, filling her and setting off a sparkling chain reaction of energy, power and pleasure.
As she shuddered against him, he held her close, held her down and thrust into her with a sharp, bright pleasure that stripped away thought and left only sensation behind. She moaned and clutched at him, would have moved to counterpoint his thrusts, but he didn’t give her the leeway, didn’t give her any choice but to take, and take more. And gods. Oh, gods.
Breathing became unimportant; self-preservation became unneeded, until the only thing that mattered was the pound of his body against hers, into hers. New pleasure gathered, surprising her. She would’ve thought she was done, spent—she’d come twice already, after all. But as another orgasm built, she arched up into his kiss, then pressed her cheek to his, her lips to his throat, and inhaled the scent of the two of them together.
This. This was what she needed, what she had come to him for.
“More,” she whispered against his throat.
“Hell, yeah.” His voice was a passionate rasp, his grip on her hips inexorable as he shifted, held her, and intensified the tempo.
Pleasure gathered within her, seeming suddenly huge and important, becoming the only thing she could think of, the only thing she could seek. She widened her legs, tipped her hips and—ahh, there. Fuck, yeah. There. She might’ve said the words aloud, because he growled low in his throat and slowed his thrusts, lingering at the point of contact, pressing into her within and without.
“Oh.” She dug her fingers into the strong cords of muscle beside his spine, and the scars beneath her fingertips added a sharp poignancy to the moment as her body coiled in that perfect, breathless pause that presaged orgasm.
She had almost lost him; they had almost lost each other.
Tears stung her eyes as she came.
The orgasm spiraled in and then flared out again, washing through her with a glorious, intense heat. She cried out—his name, a curse, a prayer, she didn’t have a clue what she was saying, only that it went on and on, almost blurring past pleasure to something stronger and more insane. He groaned long and low, gasped her name as he came. His hips pumped into her, his arms clamped around her, and he surged once, again and again.
Her inner muscles milked him, pulsing, pulsing . . . and then slowed.
Everything. Slowed. Stopped. And then it was over.
Only it was far from over, wasn’t it?
Oh, shit, she thought as she turned her face away from him, grateful that he was collapsed against her, his heart thudding a heavy drumbeat. Ohhhh, shit.
That had been way more than she’d been expecting, way more than she’d been prepared for. She’d wanted sex, but she’d gotten . . . gods, she didn’t even know what to call that, what to make of it. Yes, she was strong. But she wasn’t sure she was strong enough for this.
“Rabbit,” she began, but then fell silent, because she didn’t have a clue what to say to him. Not after that.
“Later,” he rumbled thick-voiced, already fading into his familiar postcoital coma. “We can dissect things later. For now, let’s just fucking enjoy it. Deal?”
Yes. No. Shit. Don’t make this into more than it needs to be. “Deal,” she whispered.
He was snoring almost before she’d gotten the word out, his big body going lax and warm around her. She couldn’t sleep, though. Not when . . .
Darkness. Warm and wonderful darkness.
Sometime later—more than an hour but less than the dawn—Myr startled herself by coming awake from a doze she hadn’t meant to slide into. She was tucked tightly against Rabbit’s warm bulk, with her arm partway across his chest and her hand on the steady beat of his heart. Their legs were woven together, their breaths coming in synch—at least they had been when she first opened her eyes. Now, though, her breathing quickened beneath a flood of heat, longing and disquiet.
Gods. The things he had done to her, the things he’d made her feel. She’d never done that before, with anyone, hadn’t ever wanted to. And you enjoyed every minute of it, said her better sense, which had been pretty damn quiet up to this point. Question is, are you going to enjoy what comes next?
Holding her breath, she eased out from beneath the covers, and tried not to shiver as the cold air hit her skin and raised goose bumps. Her nipples pebbled, serving only to remind her of his lips on them, his hands. New tingles erupted—of want, of need—but instead of drawing her back to the bed, they spurred her away. Padding on bare feet, she found her jeans and shirt, her boots and one sock.
She slipped on the jeans and shirt, shoved the sock in her pocket and held the boots dangling in one hand as she looked back toward the bed.
Rabbit slept on, undisturbed and magnificent, looking like he’d been cast in gold thanks to the flickering light coming from the white candle. She wanted to crawl back beside him and kiss him awake. She wanted to give herself to him, lose herself in him.
Gods. What had she done?
“Stop freaking out,” she said under her breath. “You got what you wanted.” She was the one who’d made the booty call. So what if he’d changed things up some? It shouldn’t be a big deal that he’d gotten her off rhythm and out of their routine, shouldn’t even matter that he’d taken over. It did, though. And that left her feeling far shakier than she liked as she headed for the door, moving silently on her bare feet.
Behind her, Rabbit shifted and muttered something. She tensed but he didn’t wake up. He just rolled over onto his side and buried his face in her pillow.
As she slipped through the door, she heard him mutter, “No, Myr. Don’t.” Seeing that he was talking in his sleep, she didn’t answer him. Besides, it was long past time for her to go.
Summer solstice, 1984
Chichen Itza
“The dreams said that I’m the key, that I can win the war right here, right now,” Jag said as he and Asia faced the chac-mool. Magic thrummed, coming from the shimmering air above the altar.
She took his hand. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Gods, was there anything more terrifying than knowing that? He wanted to order her away, wanted to hide her, protect her, surround her in freaking bubble wrap and know she was going to be okay no matter what. Instead, he grated, “Stay behind me. You’re in charge of our shield.”
And then, facing the intersection, he tapped into the joined magic of his warriors, and began the second spell. Where the first had opened the portal connecting this world to the next, the second spell would break the barrier, then seal it forever.
He hoped.
Raising his hands, he summoned the magic and let it rip, pouring the energy into the intersection as—
Unexpectedly, horribly, red-orange light flared in the doorway behind him. And Asia screamed.
Rabbit jolted awake at the sound of a cry that wasn’t his own, yet echoed in his ears. The blue-gray of dawn was seeping in through the windows, and the other side of the bed was empty.
Myrinne was gone, and he was having visions. This couldn’t be good.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
December 13
Eight days until the zero date
