Shadow's End (Elder Races #9)

Like an enchanted mirror, her gaze told him he was the most beautiful lover in all the land. He had always known he could only be beautiful through the gaze of someone who looked at him with true love.

Passion rose underneath her skin, so that she burned with the kind of luminescence that could only be seen with his soul. He followed the path it showed him, licking along the curves and hollows of her body, suckling at each of her nipples, until the graceful way she touched him grew broken and demanding.

The hunger in her voice as she cried out sounded like music to him, silvery and passionate, like watching the sun glint off a starling’s wing. The salt of her aroused scent was earthy, addicting. He rubbed his cheek down the flat, shaking line of her abdomen, drawn inevitably to the most secret part of her.

She parted her legs, granting him access to her most sensitive, fragile flesh. He fell into licking and caressing her with his tongue, tracing the silken, delicate folds with the kind of reverence such treasure deserved. The musk of her arousal slicked his lips.

His own body felt molten hot, his erection so thick and tight, it jutted straight out from his body. As he sprawled on his stomach, pushing down lower on the bed to feast on her, the slight friction of his cock rubbing on the coarse sheets caused him to ejaculate.

Gritting his teeth, he endured the unsatisfying pulse of pleasure/pain. He needed to be inside her oh gods so badly, yet he couldn’t leave the sensual wealth spread underneath him.

Carefully spreading her plump, ruby-tinted flesh, he found her clitoris. When he put his mouth over it, a breathless cry broke out of her lips. She lifted off the bed, head arched back, while the long, shapely muscles of her inner thighs clenched.

That was what he wanted. He needed to hear her scream. Contentment eased the fire of his own need. It wouldn’t last, but he would make it last long enough.

Suckling at her tiny, powerful peak of flesh, he stroked the petals that surrounded her entrance, caressing the dainty folds. More of her liquid arousal coated his fingers. She sank shaking fingers into his hair, sobbing, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

What don’t you know? the monster whispered in her head.

“It’s so intense, I don’t know if I can stand it.” The confession tumbled out of her trembling mouth.

Trust me, he murmured. You can take it.

She was stronger than she knew. She was stronger than almost anybody he knew.

Briefly, deliriously happy, he flicked her clitoris with tense care over the edge of his teeth. Finally he was able to make his talons retract, as he plunged two greedy fingers deep inside of her. With his invasion, he felt her convulse.

The climax rippled out from her core to the rest of her body, and it was so fucking beautiful. So fucking beautiful, suddenly, he could barely wait for her to finish. Somehow, he did, massaging her internal passage to help her through it.

When her pleasure ebbed, he pounced. Crawling up her body, he brought the tip of his cock to her entrance. Her hand collided with his as she reached to help him in.

Savagery returned. As he thrust into her tight, hot sheath, he sank his fingers deep into the mattress, clawing at it from a pleasure so deep, it was like agony.

He needed her so badly, he started ejaculating again with the first thrust. His face twisted, his back arching. Eyes wide, she stared up at him in wonder. As she stroked both hands down his chest, he shot harder into her.

It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.

She’s your chance, man.

Take it. Take her.

“You’re mine,” he growled into her face.

She whispered through lips swollen from his kisses, “Yes.”

Almost apologetically, he confessed, “I can’t stop. I’ve got to do it again.”

At that, she wound her arms around his neck again. He could never get tired of how passionately she held him. She said against his mouth, “Take everything you need, my love. Everything I’ve got is yours.”

She’s your chance, man.

He took everything she had to give.

Such a precious gift.





NINETEEN


The day before the masque, they cremated Constantine’s remains. Everywhere in New York City, flags were flown at half-mast. Traffic was muted, and many shops closed their doors.

The weather had warmed as well, and a light drizzle fell from the gray sky. It felt as if the whole world mourned his death.

Dragos had ordered a special brazier created, one large enough to hold a man. It was set on the roof of the Tower. The sentinels took Constantine’s body, dressed in simple, everyday clothes, and laid him gently on it.