Kinked (Elder Races, #6)

As aggressive sounding as the words were, saying them still left him feeling raw and wide open. Man, he had a gods-given talent for self-destruction. He rolled away, putting his back to her, and rubbed his chest where that burning pain had settled.

Aryal said, sounding exceedingly aggrieved, “You’re like some kind of high-maintenance girlfriend. I have one of the worst days of my life. Hell, I might be crippled. I might never fly again. That’s beyond my worst nightmare. I don’t know if I can live with it, and yet somehow tonight has become all about you. What about what I need?”

“What do you need?” he whispered.

She said tiredly, “I could use a hug. And you’re the only person around who can give me one. So put out, will you?”

It shocked him immensely, that she would be so open and frank enough to say it. It shocked him even further to discover he could really use a hug too.

He rolled back and reached for her, and she came into his arms, hugging him back. “I’m sorry about the bad timing,” he whispered. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Shut up,” she said. “I’m so mad at you I can hardly think straight.”

“Of course you are.” He sighed. Even their conversations were twisted. “You’re not crippled. You’re just not healed yet.”

Her chest convulsed silently. He never would have known if he hadn’t been holding her. “The joint is crushed. I felt it.”

“You’re going to fly again.” He pushed all the conviction he had into the words. “You will, Aryal. Healers can do miraculous things with joint repair these days. If all else fails, there’s joint replacement. You’re going to fly again. I swear it.”

He knew he might not be right, but she didn’t need that kind of honesty right now. She needed optimism and belief, and he put everything he had into giving it to her.

Her chest convulsed again. He kissed her temple. She didn’t cry easily and wouldn’t let go. It felt like it was wrenched out of her, and she fought it every step of the way. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

Funny how while he was comforting her, for some reason, the burning pain in his chest had eased.

“I can’t believe what a drama queen you are,” she told him.

“Me?” He was genuinely astonished.

“You made a mistake. Sure, it was a bad mistake, but nobody died except the bad guys. What are you going to do, cry ‘mea culpa’ and beat your chest for the next ten years? Everybody’s over what happened but you. I am not saying this because you wanted somebody to. I’m saying it because it’s true. Move the fuck on already.”

Her words were rough, but they were sincere. He went from burning to lightness. It might have gone to his head a bit, because he rolled her over onto her back, and he came up over her to kiss her.

She made a muffled noise against his lips. She sounded incredibly grumpy. Then she kissed him back.

They were both filthy, blood streaked, and the cold floor was making him nuts. None of it mattered. This wasn’t about sexual passion. Or maybe it was, but it was about something else too, something that was more important.

That made him suspicious. He didn’t know what to call that important, unknown thing, but whatever it was, it felt necessary and right. He teased her lips and she licked at him. Then he deepened the kiss until their tongues met and caressed. She tasted of apple brandy, heady and light.

The sensation went to his head. He eased over her more fully, pressing one leg between hers. The friction of denim cloth from their jeans was a quiet sound interspersed with the sound of their deepening breath. She ran her hands up his back, her touch on the expanse of naked skin sending a shudder through him.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t been inside of her yet. He needed to know her response to that most basic and primitive joining. Her long lean body was a match for his. It felt amazing to stretch out along her and revel in her feminine strength, like it unlocked a previously unacknowledged part of him.

Somewhere inside of him, that wild, dangerous part that he kept so tightly leashed broke loose and started running unfettered again. He had just enough presence of mind to wonder where the hell it was going, and why it needed to get there so urgently.

Neither one of them was capable of consummating a goddamn thing, yet still they kissed and kissed. He ran his fingers up her torso, underneath her ruined T-shirt to stroke at the graceful swell of one breast. He played with her soft, distended nipple as she cupped the back of his head, holding him down to her mouth.

Finally he pulled away enough to kiss the corner of her lips, and he leaned his forehead against hers. She stroked his hair, and it felt like a miracle.

He sighed. “Okay, when you’re not making me batshit crazy, I guess maybe I like you after all. But if you tell anybody that, I’m going to have to throttle you again.”

A soft explosion came out of her nose. She said, “An hour.”