Serpent's Kiss (Elder Races series: Book 3)

Rune asked, Are you all right? I didn’t push things too far, did I? Even his mental voice seemed hoarse, as though he had been shouting.

 

She had to think about it. She had witnessed many things, always holding herself separate from the sexual excesses of history, but she had never seen or heard of anything like what she had just experienced. It was not just the exoticism of the act itself. It was the exoticism of him, that playful, affectionate, dangerous on-the-edge man.

 

Just a little bit of naughty fun, and perfectly private. You’re safe, trust me.

 

A ghost of a chuckle escaped her. He poisoned her with affection and compassion, and he taught her what it meant to play again. He gave her hope and tore down her past, all with a fierce laugh in those remarkable eyes. He had already taken her soul on an impossible moonlit flight. She might as well give him her shredded, useless heart too, since she hadn’t been using it all these years.

 

She whispered, “I’m okay, you lunatic. But I really cannot go any further out here . . .”

 

He was already shaking his head. “I don’t think I could hold on to the cloaking and take you at the same time,” he growled. “And I will not risk exposing either of us like that.”

 

Because she was safe, and she really could trust him. She really could.

 

She hiccupped in a silent sob, a physical reaction as involuntary and shocking as the climax had been.

 

He smoothed the tangled hair away from her face. Are you sure you’re all right, darling? he asked again, sounding concerned.

 

His handsome features were blurred like the memory of a dream, and the giant invisible force that had been propelling her forward these last several years, faster and faster, shoved her into a realization and then she really was moving at the speed of light.

 

What was this feeling? She had sensed it before in so many others. She felt shards of it, for dogs and other creatures, nations and ideals, and old lovers who had been gone for so many, many years. She had always felt those shards were pieces of something that was bigger than anything she would ever be able to understand, until just now, as they coalesced and made a whole.

 

Love. This feeling was love.

 

She sat back on her heels, dragged the back of one hand across her face then leaned forward to kiss him. Stop worrying, she told him gently. I’m fine.

 

He frowned and rubbed her back. Okay. Here, let me help you.

 

She buttoned her caftan unsteadily as he finger-combed her hair into some semblance of order. He tried to twist it into a knot at the nape of her neck and tuck it in on itself the way that she did, but he didn’t have the knack and it fell down her back again. Damn. You’ll have to let me know how you do that.

 

She gathered it up swiftly again and tucked it into place. Or maybe I’ll just cut it. It’s been a long time since I’ve had it short.

 

Really? He helped her to her feet. A short haircut would show off the gorgeous bones of her face, but that long extravagant fall of dark hair cascading to her hips was flagrantly feminine and outrageously beautiful. Could you grow it back if you cut it?

 

How did he do that? How did he manage to tuck that crazy out-of-control passion out of the way and act almost as if nothing had happened? She could barely stand on her feet, and even though she had climaxed, her body still felt empty and aching and unfulfilled.

 

Or maybe she was the only one who had experienced the crazy out-of-control passion, just as she was the only who had realized she had fallen in love. Falling in love was such a lonely business.

 

They had achieved an understanding back at the island cottage. They had made a pact, and she was very aware she had agreed to it. This was supposed to be a love affair with a built-in expiration date. Clearly he had been in control the entire time.

 

Well, he had discovered too many of her secrets already. He could not have this one as well. She would keep her epiphanies and realizations to herself.

 

She realized he had asked her a question and answered absently. My hair and fingernails stopped growing when I stopped taking in physical nourishment. If and when I cut it, it’ll be gone for good.

 

That would be tragic. Your hair is one of the wonders of the world. She smiled with pleasure at the compliment in spite of herself. He bent to pick up their bags. He asked, Are you ready?

 

She assumed a composed expression, twitched the skirt of her caftan to make sure it fell into place, and told him, Yes.

 

Thea Harrison's books