His greater half purred within him, unable to help the swell of pride, the contentment. He would gladly be her sole source of sustenance if that was how it always felt to do so.
Fuck. The thought of her fangs sinking into him was like heady wine.
Brand finally opened his eyes, ready to turn her around and beg on his knees for her to feed from him directly, but the words got stuck when he saw a lock of her clean hair caught on the grime of his soiled tunic.
Ever so slowly, he loosened his hold and stepped away. Swallowing a growl of frustration, he turned his back to her and ripped off the offending garment.
“Thank you, Brand. That was…” She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
At least she sounded like herself again. At least he’d given her that.
He turned around to respond just in time to see her dress disappearing. It didn’t matter that she was facing away or that the river was black as midnight and rose well above her waist because she was glowing—literally fuckingglowing—and the water that should’ve covered herdidn’t.Instead, her body was revealed as a luscious shimmer beneath the lapping current. A beacon in the darkness, beckoning to him.
Seeing that much of her, so close, hit Brand like an avalanche on the mountainside.
It took every ounce of self control he possessed to look away and resume his own undressing. Unfortunately, the relief when he freed himself from his trousers was short-lived. His ears latched on to the sound of Lunara humming under her breath, accompanied by the tinkling music of water droplets splashing as she washed, and it nearly killed him.
On a heavy sigh, he sank into the water, holding himself under until his lungs screamed for air. Submerged in the murk, he finally accepted that there was nothing in all of Bordoroth capable of quelling the overwhelming desire he felt for the stunning Sorcerit. She was the most captivating female he’d ever met, beautiful inside and out.
And he wanted her with a burning intensity that should have shocked him, but didn’t.
Not when the staggering truth was settling even deeper into his bones.
Not when Brand would swear he was starting to faintly feel her emotions as if they were his own. When he’d projected slow breaths and soothing ease, control, and she’d absorbed all of it like a sponge as he’d cleaned her.
Not when his greater half was crowing inside, alive with the triumph of certainty.
Mag and Hedda’s faces flashed—his look of awed realization, hers of quiet understanding.
They knew. They fucking knew it too.
Pushing to the surface, he raked both hands through his hair, washing it as quickly as he could. He couldn’t stay that close to her, not a stitch of clothing between them, any longer. Not without doing something utterly reckless. She deserved more, better, than a muddy river bank less than an hour after having to put him in his place.
Brand tossed his shirt and pants onto the bank along with everything else and strode out of the water, every sloshing step taking him further from where he actually wanted to be.
When he bent to retrieve a towel, Lunara’s singing dwindled to nothing, and her softly gasped,“Weeping, fucking shite,”made him pause.
Made him wonder.
If they were sharing feelings, it was possible she was as tightly wound as he. Maybe having similar thoughts and realizations of her own.
The notion made him wicked. The distance and water between them made him bold.
Still facing away from her, Brand slowed his movements, running the cloth over his skin with deliberately drawn outstrokes. He didn’t bother to keep his head from tipping back, or his hand from gliding the linen over his cock once, twice, again…
Fuck.
He had to get dry, after all. May as well torture them both while he did it.
Brand froze when he heard her leaving the water.Bold, unfortunately, did not meanreformed, and his nerves spiked. Ignoring the throbbing jut of his erection, he tied the towel around himself in a rush and turned.
Weeping, fucking shitewas right.
Mere feet away and dripping, Lunara was wrapped in a scrap of linen that had no hope whatsoever of fully covering her luscious curves. It gaped wide open up one rounded thigh, exposing a generous hip, and only tapered closed when it hit her much smaller waist. Her breasts were barely concealed, spilling over the top where her arms held the ends together.
Every inch of her skin shimmered in the moonlight, and Brand had the sudden, overwhelming urge to to drop to his knees and worship the goddess in front of him.
Lunara was every fantasy he’d ever had—and she was shivering.
