She answered with a broken whimper, and under the water she ground against me, rubbing her body against mine. Heat shot straight through me.
“I want more.” It came out as a whimpered plea.
I didn’t hesitate. I caught her mouth one more time, hard and hungry, before I pulled back to breathe. Then I guided usto shore, lifting her from the pond with her legs wrapped tight around my waist.
I laid her on the grass, letting the jungle and the sound of frogs and rushing water work as our symphony.
She looked up at me, hair wet and clinging to her face, chest rising and falling fast. Gods, she was beautiful.
I kissed her again, slower this time. My mouth trailed down her throat, tasting the droplets of water that clung to her skin. My hand ran over her thighs, tracing my fingers over her hip as I settled between her. I rubbed my hardened cock over her, and she gasped.
Her lips were swollen from our kiss, and I wanted to swallow every sound, every shiver. But more than that, I wanted to give. To show her what it meant to be wanted, to be worshipped. To be loved by me.
“Brent,” she whispered, and the way my name cracked against her lips made me groan.
I kissed lower, down her chest to her stomach, savoring every inch until I reached her underwear. She shifted to pull them down and widened her trembling legs. I placed a kiss there before parting her with my tongue. Her sharp intake of breath was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. My breath fractured, the edges of my control fraying. But I held on for her, not wanting to take more than she was ready to give.
I licked slowly, unhurried, drinking in the way her body arched, the way her hands fisted in the grass. I wanted to map her, learn her, build her pleasure until she shattered on my mouth. My fingers slid into her core, curling while my mouth drew circles around her mound. Her thighs quaked against my shoulders.
She gasped my name again, a broken cry that made me groan against her. Her taste wrecked me. Every sound, every quiver fed my desire to worship her. To make her forget everything else.I forced my breath to steady, but my heart pulsed with every sound she made.
Her hips quivered as I pressed deeper, my hand and mouth working in unison until her breath came in ragged pants. The bond flared, her emotions crashing into me. Need, desperation, surrender. Until I couldn’t tell if the pounding in my chest was hers or mine.
Her body arched off the ground, a cry tearing from her lips as her climax rolled through her. I held her through it, my mouth and fingers coaxing every last tremor, every last cry, until she collapsed, boneless and stunning.
I pressed a final kiss against her trembling thigh before lifting my head. Her eyes shone white and bright, shimmering with more than just her release. With trust. With the bond that tethered us, pulsing fierce and eternal.
And I knew, I’d never stop chasing that look.
I imagined my magic clinging to her skin in thin wisps of smoke, languid and draping over her like it had no intention of letting her go.
I gathered her in my arms and carried her to the pond, going in slowly so the cool water didn’t startle her. She murmured my name, nuzzling her face against my throat while I lowered us into the shallow water. I cleaned her with careful hands. Every touch now meant to bring her back down. She kissed my throat, running her nose along it in a way that both tempted and soothed.
After I laid us back on the grass, she turned to me, her eyes a dull white that didn’t suit her. I cupped her chin, trailing my fingers across her cheek.
“What is it?” I asked. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She held my hand against her before she dropped it away. “I think . . .” Her voice was quiet, almost ashamed. “I think I want to surrender my magic to Zaicha.”
The words sliced through me, but I held my breath and waited.
She swallowed, her gaze dropping to the grass between us. “I like how this feels. Right now, without any magic. It’s quiet and peaceful, and I don’t have to worry.”
Where she felt peace, I felt an emptiness where my magic should be.
I forced my voice to steady, careful as I smoothed a thumb over her hand. “Lolli, I need you to hear me, okay? What if Zaicha is the same daughter of the gods that Alastor mentioned? What if she’s the one who forged the Orb of Sacrifice? What if she’s using you? What if she’s the one who used you as a conduit to kill the dragons?” I tried for each word to come out soft, but I knew I failed when she flinched away from me.
Her eyes flashed with hurt. “No. You saw it yourself, Brent. She’s helped me. She understands me and my magic. How can you say she’s using me when she gave me a choice? I don’t have to relinquish my magic to her, but I want to. Can’t you understand that?” Her words seemed to bleed from her chest, an open wound that had never sealed. “Can you trust me?”
“I do trust you.” I dropped my forehead to hers. “Always.” I inched away, cupping her cheek so she looked at me. “But I’m asking you to be open to the possibility that she’s behind this. That she might not be the friend that you believe her to be.”
Silence stretched, broken only by the chirping of those tiny jungle frogs. She worried her lip before her attention darted away.
“I trust her, Brent.” The words barely made it past her lips. They were so thin, so fragile.
Her shoulders drew in, and she wouldn’t look at me as she curled her fingers into tight fists, trying to grip something that wasn’t within her grasp.
“She sees me.” They came out as barely a sound. Not only a smaller version of her voice, but a smaller version of her.
