She was oblivious to the power she had over him. And that ignorance maddened him more than anything.
“I have to shower first,” he muttered, leaned down, and pressed a quick, possessive peck to her lips.
He swept her hair back, fingers lingering longer than necessary, forcing himself to take one last look at her before turning away. He had to climb the stairs. He had to put distance between them before hedid something unamendable like pushing her against the wall just to kiss and taste the desperate gasps she’d make, or fucking her hard enough that she wouldn’t even have the strength to beg him to stop.
Both images haunted him as he mounted each step, and he wanted both. Fuck, he wanted everything. He wanted her on the couch, against the wall, on the counter, against the door, in the bathroom, in the bedroom, and in every corner possible. The need was insane—that was all he could think about since he crossed the line he drew for himself and ate her out like the starved monster that he was.
Her gaze seared into his back as warmth started heading south. He clenched his teeth to stop himself from turning around, regretting that he’d not drained more of his blood in the cave earlier—if only he had bled until nothing remained, perhaps blood wouldn’t be rushing to his cock, perhaps he wouldn’t be walking to the bathroom as it throbbed stiffly from the wild, obscene thoughts tormenting him.
He was going to jerk himself off like he’d done multiple times, that was for sure. He was breaking apart under the weight of his own need, and he knew he was a breath away from losing control.
He could feel it in his bones.
And he needed her to stop him.
Hebadlyneeded her to hold him back from claiming her more than he already did.
Because if she didn’t—if she kept looking at him like he was the air she needed to breathe—then the carnation he dreaded would come, and he would drag her into ruin with him.
And gods help them both, he wanted it.
Giving up on fighting himself for the moment, he paused on the steps before he turned.
Her eyes were waiting and expectant, and he could sense her thoughts like they were his own.She wanted to come with him.
This woman didn’t know it, but she was oxygen in a world where he had only ever known suffocation.
She was his, even if it was only temporary. He would cherish the three weeks he got to be close to her. He would drain every drop of her into him until it was enough to keep him breathing for the next lifetime of torment he was cursed to endure.
Thrax’s voice came out low and rougher than he expected. “Come and undress me,Nher.”
Immediately, her face lit up—so bright it tore his chest apart—and then she was moving in eagerness, skipping up the stairs to him. With his pulse thundering in his ears, his restraint snapped another thread as he watched her radiate life and everything he had been empty of for centuries.
Sanora followed him into the bathroom, and he shut the door after her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
SANORA
I stood in front of Thrax in the enclosed space, my chest heaving slightly from excitement. He was dressed in his usual black—shirt buttoned, coat hanging from those wide shoulders, his dark hair brushing against them as if even strands of it were made to tease me.
He was tall. Broader than I could wrap my arms around. And for a second, my legs almost buckled while my fingers burned with the ache to strip him bare, to peel the fabric away and finally roam every inch of the skin I’d been craving to touch.
Thrax stared down at me without a word, gaze heavy and commanding. He was waiting for me to begin.
My throat bobbed as I swallowed, stepping closer until the heat rolling off his body kissed my skin. I slid his coat from his shoulders, guiding the fabric down the muscled length of his arms and letting it drop to the tiled floor. My fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. By the time I reached the last, my cheeks were burning, his eyes alone setting me aflame.
It had been two days since he told me he’d been celibate. Celibate for six hundred fucking years.
How the fuck does one even do that?
Unbelievable. I couldn’t stop my curiosity from clawing at me, desperate to know who the last person had been—the woman whohad touched him last, the one who had pushed him into a lifetime of abstinence.
When the final button slipped free, I tugged his shirt from his shoulders, my fingertips brushing hot skin as I helped it down his arms. I dropped it onto the pile with his coat before my hand came back, desperate and ready to explore his bare chest. But as I was about to press my palms where I ached to, his hand shot out, catching my wrists mid-air.
I frowned, my gaze snapping up to his. He only dragged my hands lower, wordlessly demanding I keep stripping him.
I bit my lips, but continued.
