“You got Sophia and Jack out of here.” My voice cracks. “You kept your promise.”
Niklaus remains rooted to the ground but closes his eyes for three long seconds. Each breath is full of a decade of knowledge he now has that I do not.
“Will you let me keep mine? Can I bring you home?”
The shadows around his gaze are dull with exhaustion. He bows toward me, running the metal plate across his mouth over my thigh as if leaving a trail of kisses. And needing no additional time to recover, Niklaus scoops me into his lap and slides his tip along my sensitive clit, then eases himself into me. This time it’s lazier and without the underlying pent-up anger. His face nestles between my breasts. My hips roll back and forth, the second orgasm much easier to achieve.
And as Niklaus clutches me to him, roaring as he slams upward one last time to spill his cum again, I hold him close and let my love harden like armor around us, like a sword that cracks the door of the Nightlung open, and I throw it overtop of us.
Thirty years in the future.
68. The Carousel of Time
Sapphire
His arms have aged. Theyare locked around me. Firm and unbreakable. His skin is coarser, not just from the scars, but the way his surroundings and violent environment have called for thicker armor.
I wake in a place all too familiar.
There is a stadium. Rows of seating. Inmates scattered across a stage in a social hour. The uniforms we read about when our parents were in this prison.
I grit my teeth, feeling tremendously embarrassed that I just finished telling Niklaus I can control it—yet here we are…
Still in fucking prison.
“I can explain.”No, I can’t.
I look back at him, only to see him simply communicating with only his eyes. They soften and watch me beautifully, like he’s waited eons to witness my fuckups again.
“I need to hear your voice,” I say wistfully. He has such a special voice, a velvet and cruel baritone that can command a room.
Niklaus glances to the left just as Dellilian approaches with something in her mouth. She rubs up against Niklaus’s side like a cat and drops a piece of metal in his lap.
“A key? Good job, Dellilian!” I praise.
I race to jab the key in the lock on the back of his neck. The chunk of metal falls into his hands. My eyes work to adjust to his short-trimmed beard. Three scars along his jaw. His calloused hand rubs at his mouth in gratitude and soreness.
“Say something,” I urge impatiently.
Niklaus’s eyes go round. “You have not aged a day.”
That kills me.
“I know.”
“I’m thirty-one now, Spitfire.” And his voice, though still similar, reflects that progression of time. It’s matured. Lower. Steadier.
“You’re an old man now.”
“I am.” Though he does not smile. This seems to really bother him.
My hand caresses his beard, and he balks. I pause my affection before continuing, waiting for him to process that it’s really me.
“You could be in your nineties, and I’d still be in love with you,” I murmur.
That sapphire-stained gaze snaps up in surprise.
“You don’t mean that.”
