Passion Unleashed

“It’s okay. I trust you.”


He slipped his hand beneath her to tilt her hips. Instinct guided her, had her clamping her thighs around his hips even tighter. The head of him started to ease inside…

I think I love you.

Her words clanged around in his skull so hard it hurt. Sweat popped out on his brow.

I trust you.

Emotion clogged his throat and cut off his breath. Only Shade had ever really trusted him and even then, the trust had limits.

“Please, Josh.”

I trust you.

Serena was flame against him, her body scorching him on the outside, her trust and love warming him on the inside, a place that had been a dark, cold cavern for as long as he could remember. She was beautiful inside and out, and she didn’t deserve what he was about to do to her. Not without a guarantee that she would survive afterward.

His brothers would never forgive him, but he couldn’t take her life.

“I can’t,” he panted, rearing back. “No.”

“But—”

“I can’t give you what you want, Serena. I’ll never be able to. Not like that.” Gods, he was a fool, a fool who had just signed three death warrants. “I’ll make you feel good, though. I promise you that.”

He kissed his way down her body and dove between her legs, used his mouth to punish her for making him burn like this. His punishment made her come over and over, until she couldn’t move, lay limp on the bed.

Shaking with a combination of extreme arousal, exhaustion, and not a little fear, he crawled up beside her and pulled her into his arms until her breathing eased into sleep. He thanked his lucky stars he’d shot up with the anti-libido drug before dinner, because although he was experiencing some serious blue balls despite the earlier release, he wasn’t in crippling pain. This would ease off eventually. He winced as he adjusted himself. Hopefully, it would ease off soon.

He didn’t know how long they lay like that, her sleeping peacefully and him feeling the chill of death take hold, but when she began to stir, the sky outside the window had lightened. A muffled beeping came from his pants on the floor. He stifled a groan and dug his phone out of the pocket.

No cure.

The text on the screen from the demoness sat like a hot coal in his gut. There truly was no hope now. He lifted his other wrist, which felt way too heavy, checked his watch.

And knew what he had to do.

Carefully, he eased out of the tangle of their naked bodies and dressed. Every joint, every muscle screamed in agony, and he had a feeling that, this time, no amount of medication was going to help.

“Hey,” she mumbled. “What are you doing?”

He jammed his foot into a boot, and when he didn’t answer, because he didn’t know what to say, she sat up and brought her hand down on his shoulder. He jerked away.

“The train will be pulling into Cairo in half an hour. I’m getting off. Going home.”

She blinked, her groggy gaze unfocused. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“We almost had sex.”

“No, we didn’t.”

She didn’t remember. He wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not.

“Yeah, we did.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Even if we almost did… we didn’t. So… why are you leaving?”

A shudder wracked his body as he exhaled. He bent to pick up the wooden top that had fallen to the floor. “I’m leaving because I’m afraid that eventually, we will, and I can’t be responsible for killing you.”

“What?” She came to her feet, tugged the bed sheet to her chest, as if that would hide anything. Her body, her curves, every freaking detail was imprinted on his brain. “You think I’m not strong enough to resist you? You think you have to play martyr and keep yourself away from me so I won’t weaken in your presence and force you to have sex with me or something?”

“Ah… no. I’m not exactly the martyr type—”

“So you just don’t want to have sex with me?”

He opened his mouth, but before he could deny that particular question, she slammed her palm into his chest. Hard.

“Answer me!” she shouted. She was coming down from the effects of the aphrodisiac. He recognized the signs of a drug crash, had lived them himself.

“I can’t risk your life, Serena. I won’t. And I’m not strong enough to promise that I can be near you and not want you.”

“Get out!” She was coming down hard, practically spitting fire and completely irrational. She pointed at the door. “Get out and… and go to hell!”

“That,” he croaked, “is only a matter of time.” He opened the door and paused at the threshold. “I’ll make sure someone will get on in Cairo to take you the rest of the way home.”

Larissa Ione's books