Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“No. Yes, I mean—” Shaking his head, he takes a deep breath. “I’ve done this, but never with someone I love.” He swallows. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone, and it scares me a little—how I feel about you. How much I need you. It scares me how . . . how this has all come together.”
I smile. “Here we are. Against all odds.” I release the button at his waist, and our hands tangle as we work together to free him of his pants.
I’m not shy when I look at him—at his tanned skin and strong chest, at the tight muscles of his abdomen and his powerful thighs and . . . the rest of him. I do blush at that, but I don’t turn coy. I know what I want. I walk to the bed. Keeping my eyes on him, I settle onto the feather-soft mattress and crook a finger, beckoning him to join me.
He takes me in again and again, and my skin grows warmer with each pass of his eyes. When he finally climbs onto the bed, he lies at my side and props himself up on one elbow. With his free hand, he strokes down my body, dipping just below my navel and making my breath catch, then back up, between and across my breasts.
I hold his gaze and arch under his touch, guiding his fingers where I want them. “I imagined this,” I whisper, reaching for him. “Imagined you like this. I never thought it would happen. Don’t walk away now, okay?”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to.” His eyes darken, and he shifts and settles over me. The weight of him sends a delicious pleasure pooling low in my belly. I draw my knees up and lead him to settle between my thighs, gasping at the press of him against my sensitive center.
“You’re okay?”
I nod, but okay isn’t the right word. I’m desperate and needy. I’m grateful for this moment and scared of what comes next. I’m in love and loved and undeserving. I’m not okay, but I want this. “You?”
He smiles at that. “Better than ever.” Sadness darkens that smile, as if he senses the undercurrent of my thoughts. “I want more than this, but if tonight is all I get, I’ll take it.”
“I want more too,” I whisper, then echo his words back to him, back to the gods who’ve granted me this moment of happiness. “If tonight is all I get, I’ll take it.”
I slide my hands into his hair and hold his gaze as I shift my hips to guide him inside me. My body tightens, and his breath hitches. His hands frame my face, and he slowly begins to move, but I can sense him holding back and I need more than these tentative touches. I guide his mouth down to mine and kiss him until he’s helpless to do anything but let go and give us both what we need. Soon enough any guilt or sadness is gone and we become our pleasure, become nothing more than the connection between us—and a kernel of hope that this love might be enough.
* * *
Can’t. Breathe.
My eyes fly open, and the specter of a woman peers down at me. I open my mouth to scream, to gasp for air, but she’s sitting on my chest and my lungs refuse to expand.
She leans forward, like a lover leaning in for a kiss. I can’t stop her. My arms won’t move. I want to turn, to flail, to kick and push, but my body isn’t my own. I’m paralyzed. Trapped.
“Abriella,” she says, her breath dancing along my cheek. My name is a song from her lips, and her silver hair floats around her face like she’s in water. “Abriella, Abriella, Abriella.”
The song of my name is haunting but beautiful. I’m so transfixed, I forget that I need air. I forget that I can’t move. I watch her lips and let the melody fill my ears.
I feel consciousness slipping from me, and I let it. She continues to sing my name as the world goes black.
* * *
Lark stares at me with big silver eyes. We’re underwater in a deep, dark abyss, and her hair floats around her like the Banshee’s did. The only light emanates from her glowing silver eyes as she strokes my face. I’m still not breathing, but I’m not sure I need to.
Someone in another world is calling my name. Not the Banshee. Sebastian. Calling my name from above this abyss, begging me. I look up, but the surface is too far away to see.
Lark’s small fingers trace a path from my temples to my chin and back. When she meets my eyes, I sense her words in my mind more than hear them. “I see three paths before you. In each, the Banshee’s call is clear. Don’t be afraid.”