Shadowfever
Page 148
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I look up at him and hes part beast. His face is mahogany, his fangs are out. His eyes are Barrons. The look in them isnt. It makes me wild. I can be whatever I want to be with him. No inhibitions. I feel him growing harder, longer inside me.
You can do that? I gasp. The beast was bigger than the man.
He laughs, and it is definitely not a human sound.
I moan, I whimper, I writhe. Its incredible. Hes filling me up, gliding deep and deliciously inside me where Ive never felt a man before. Oh, God! I come. I explode. I hear someone roaring.
Its me. I laugh and keep coming. I think I scream. I use my claws and he bucks in me, sudden and rapid. He makes that sound in the back of his throat Im so crazy about. I love that sound.
Id walk through hell and back, smiling, as long as he was beside me. As long as I could glance over at him and our eyes would meet and wed share one of those wordless looks.
You havent lost your feathers. His words are strange, guttural, forced out around fangs.
Id snort, but then his tongue is in my mouth, my jaws are wide, and I cant breathe, and hes right. One day you do meet a man who kisses you and you cant breathe around it and you realize you dont need air. Oxygen is trivial. Desire makes life happen. Makes it matter. Makes everything worth it. Desire is life. Hunger to see the next sunrise or sunset, to touch the one you love, to try again.
Hell would be waking up and wanting nothing, he agrees. He knows what Im thinking. Always. Were connected. The atoms between us ferry messages back and forth.
Harder. Deeper. Come on, Barrons. More. I feel violent. I am unbreakable. I am elastic around him. Insatiable. His hand is on the side of my neck, around my throat, half cupping my face. His eyes bore into mine. He watches every nuance, every detail of every expression, as if his existence depends on it. He fucks with the single-minded devotion of a dying man hunting God.
As he fills me, I wonder ifin the same way that sex makes its own unique perfumewe dont really make love. As in create, manufacture, evoke an independent element in the air around us, and if enough of us did it really well, for real, not just for the hell of it, we could change the world. Because when hes in me, I feel the space around us changing, charging, and it seems to set off some kind of feedback loop, where the more he touches me, the more I need him to. Having sex with Barrons sates my need. Then feeds it. Sates, then feeds. Its a never-ending cycle. I get out of bed with him, frantic to be back in it again. And I
hated you for it, he says gently.
That was my line.
I never get enough, Mac. Drives me bug-fuck. I should kill you for what you make me feel.
I understandperfectly. He is my vulnerability. I would become Shiva, the world-eater, for him.
He withdraws and I nearly scream from the emptiness.
Then hes lifting me into his arms and Im on the bed, and hes spreading me over the mound of pillows, nudging my legs wide, and when he pushes into me from behind, I sob with relief. Im whole, Im alive, Im
I close my eyes and ride the mindless bliss. Its all I can do. Be. Feel. Live.
Im Pri-ya again.
I always will be with this man.
Much later, I look up at him. Hes on top of me, barely inside me. Im swollen, hot, and fiercely alive. My hands are over my head. He likes to tease, an inch, maybe two, until Im crazy with need, then drive it home hard. It undoes me every time.
I know part of what turns me on so hard, makes me so violent with lust, is that hes dangerous. I fell for the bad guy. Im crazy about the one whos trouble. The alpha that doesnt play well with others and doesnt take orders from anyone.
What else would I expect? Its possible Im part of the ancient creator of the Unseelie race.
Hes kissing me. Vlanes name is long gone from my tongue. Theres only him, and hes right: No other man would fit.
Maybe theres nothing wrong with you at all, Mac, he says. Maybe youre exactly what youre supposed to be, and the only reason you feel so conflicted about it is that you keep trying to bat for the wrong team. He thrusts deep, rocks his hips forward with a muscle Id be willing to bet no human man had.
I arch my back. Are you saying you think Im evil?
Evil isnt a state of being. Its a choice.
I dont think
My mouth is suddenly busy. By the time I get around to finishing my sentence, I have no idea what I was going to say.
We end up in the shower, an enormous affair of Italian marble and shower heads on all walls. A dozen feet long, six feet wide, it has a bench thats just the right height. I think we stay in there for days. He brings in food and I eat in the shower. I wash him, slide my hands over his beautiful body.
When you die, do your tattoos disappear? Wet, his hair is darker, glossy, his skin a deep bronze. Water runs over muscle, sprays off his erection. Hes always hard.
Yes.
Thats why they were different. I frown. Do you come back exactly how you were when you died the first time?
Were you Pri-ya the entire time?
I gasp and try to duck my head so he cant see my eyes. My eyes betray me sometimes, no matter how hard I try, especially when my feelings are intense.
You can do that? I gasp. The beast was bigger than the man.
He laughs, and it is definitely not a human sound.
I moan, I whimper, I writhe. Its incredible. Hes filling me up, gliding deep and deliciously inside me where Ive never felt a man before. Oh, God! I come. I explode. I hear someone roaring.
Its me. I laugh and keep coming. I think I scream. I use my claws and he bucks in me, sudden and rapid. He makes that sound in the back of his throat Im so crazy about. I love that sound.
Id walk through hell and back, smiling, as long as he was beside me. As long as I could glance over at him and our eyes would meet and wed share one of those wordless looks.
You havent lost your feathers. His words are strange, guttural, forced out around fangs.
Id snort, but then his tongue is in my mouth, my jaws are wide, and I cant breathe, and hes right. One day you do meet a man who kisses you and you cant breathe around it and you realize you dont need air. Oxygen is trivial. Desire makes life happen. Makes it matter. Makes everything worth it. Desire is life. Hunger to see the next sunrise or sunset, to touch the one you love, to try again.
Hell would be waking up and wanting nothing, he agrees. He knows what Im thinking. Always. Were connected. The atoms between us ferry messages back and forth.
Harder. Deeper. Come on, Barrons. More. I feel violent. I am unbreakable. I am elastic around him. Insatiable. His hand is on the side of my neck, around my throat, half cupping my face. His eyes bore into mine. He watches every nuance, every detail of every expression, as if his existence depends on it. He fucks with the single-minded devotion of a dying man hunting God.
As he fills me, I wonder ifin the same way that sex makes its own unique perfumewe dont really make love. As in create, manufacture, evoke an independent element in the air around us, and if enough of us did it really well, for real, not just for the hell of it, we could change the world. Because when hes in me, I feel the space around us changing, charging, and it seems to set off some kind of feedback loop, where the more he touches me, the more I need him to. Having sex with Barrons sates my need. Then feeds it. Sates, then feeds. Its a never-ending cycle. I get out of bed with him, frantic to be back in it again. And I
hated you for it, he says gently.
That was my line.
I never get enough, Mac. Drives me bug-fuck. I should kill you for what you make me feel.
I understandperfectly. He is my vulnerability. I would become Shiva, the world-eater, for him.
He withdraws and I nearly scream from the emptiness.
Then hes lifting me into his arms and Im on the bed, and hes spreading me over the mound of pillows, nudging my legs wide, and when he pushes into me from behind, I sob with relief. Im whole, Im alive, Im
I close my eyes and ride the mindless bliss. Its all I can do. Be. Feel. Live.
Im Pri-ya again.
I always will be with this man.
Much later, I look up at him. Hes on top of me, barely inside me. Im swollen, hot, and fiercely alive. My hands are over my head. He likes to tease, an inch, maybe two, until Im crazy with need, then drive it home hard. It undoes me every time.
I know part of what turns me on so hard, makes me so violent with lust, is that hes dangerous. I fell for the bad guy. Im crazy about the one whos trouble. The alpha that doesnt play well with others and doesnt take orders from anyone.
What else would I expect? Its possible Im part of the ancient creator of the Unseelie race.
Hes kissing me. Vlanes name is long gone from my tongue. Theres only him, and hes right: No other man would fit.
Maybe theres nothing wrong with you at all, Mac, he says. Maybe youre exactly what youre supposed to be, and the only reason you feel so conflicted about it is that you keep trying to bat for the wrong team. He thrusts deep, rocks his hips forward with a muscle Id be willing to bet no human man had.
I arch my back. Are you saying you think Im evil?
Evil isnt a state of being. Its a choice.
I dont think
My mouth is suddenly busy. By the time I get around to finishing my sentence, I have no idea what I was going to say.
We end up in the shower, an enormous affair of Italian marble and shower heads on all walls. A dozen feet long, six feet wide, it has a bench thats just the right height. I think we stay in there for days. He brings in food and I eat in the shower. I wash him, slide my hands over his beautiful body.
When you die, do your tattoos disappear? Wet, his hair is darker, glossy, his skin a deep bronze. Water runs over muscle, sprays off his erection. Hes always hard.
Yes.
Thats why they were different. I frown. Do you come back exactly how you were when you died the first time?
Were you Pri-ya the entire time?
I gasp and try to duck my head so he cant see my eyes. My eyes betray me sometimes, no matter how hard I try, especially when my feelings are intense.
