Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
I lied.
She’s different.
And she’s different because she’s mine and I’m hers.
And now that I’ve found her, I have to let her go.
I shake my head, holding her still, and I promise myself I will find a way, no matter what it takes I’ll find a way, I have to.
“Let’s go rest for a bit,” I whisper against her cheek, then I carry her to bed.
CHAPTER 37
CLEO
I always knew she would die—and now I have to watch it.--Cyrus
Lying on the bed, spooned in the embrace Cyrus, Ra, my lover, my very own sun. I’ve never been so sated in my entire life. Everything is a mixture of pain and pleasure, hurting in such a delicious way that I want to beg for it again and again just so I can feel him between my thighs, no matter how rough it is. I lost count of how many times he took me, each growing fiercer than the last, though nothing as desperate as that first time during the festival.
Even now where we should be resting, his hand slides over my hip, up along my ribs, teasing my breasts, then pinching one nipple, the other, rubbing back and forth. I wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it. Cyrus leans up on one elbow, shifting me slightly so he can reach that nipple and soothe it with his tongue and lips. Does he realize that he’s both god and man? That right now I can see how powerful he is, but also how vulnerable? I love both sides, and I wonder if he was ever worried I would be fearful of something I couldn’t understand or something that was bigger than my imagination?
He's everything, though.
If all I had to do was worship this god among men, I’d be on my knees. If that’s all it would take for him to survive, to create, destroy—for us to love, it would be the easiest sacrifice of my life.
Maybe that’s the problem? The sacrifice to him would be easy but losing my life to him? That’s the hard part. Because while I would do it a hundred times, not knowing his touch is the most terrifying thing I can imagine.
“Mmmm…” I moan when he moves against me, tugging me back against his chest.
Evidence of his constant arousal presses against my ass as his caresses grow more urgent and chaotic.
“Are you ready to run again?” he whispers in my ear before tugging it with his teeth.
A sigh slips past my lips as I lean back against him, giving him access to more of my body. “I’m a little tired, do you think I can just pretend to run, and you can pretend you already caught me? We are already in bed…”
His laugh brings too much joy to my soul. He flips me over onto my back, his smile real, present, so different than before, like he’s finally found more purpose and I hate the hope in my soul that says it’s because he’s found me the way I’ve found him.
“I can fix the exhaustion,” he murmurs, trailing his hand lower and brushing my clit, just a hint of a touch, light and teasing. My hips buck as heat sparks in my core. Liquid warmth begs its way in, his fingers create magic even with the slightest touch, don’t they?
I don’t know how, but I feel it in my bones, we’re almost out of time, and this is all I have of him, and rather than receive, I want to give, I want to give with my last energy, strength, hope, and love.
But how do you give back to an immortal?
Maybe by giving back to the man first.
I want to leave him something, he deserves that much, something from me, something that’s real, something that has nothing to do with gods and monsters, myths, legends.
Something tangible.
Until my last breath—I need him to have something.
I calm myself, taking a few deep breaths, despite my body’s protests because all I want is to drown in him, when for once, maybe he should drown in me. I want to give back. I want to give Cyrus—the man, not the god—something of me.
I reach down and still his hand bringing it to my mouth, kissing his fingertips gently, relishing the feel of the cold against my mouth before whispering, “Let me tell you a story.”
He pulls his hand away and reaches for my face, cupping it so gently I want to cry. A soft breath escapes from between his lips as he chuckles near my ear. “What kind of story, little human? What sort of story don’t I already know?”
I shrug and offer, “a fantasy.” I giggle. “Obviously.”
He moves his other hand to cup my hip, dragging his thumb back and forth there in a comforting motion that has me acutely aware of him.