For so long, she’d lost all hope to escape. Even when Heath appeared, part of her had thought he would fade. That the obstacle would be too great. But over and over again, he proved he would keep coming. He ran, his body tense and pushed beyond his limits, tirelessly coming to aid. His only focus had been on her, and it seemed as if him finding his past was more of a biproduct.
She knew his memories were important, but they were never as important as her touch.
More and more, these dreamscapes were stolen moments of passion, mere seconds when they were just themselves in a world gone so very wrong.
For them, the world stopped, and everything disappeared until there was only Heath and Asherah. All her senses were alive for him. She gripped the front of his shirt, bunching the material in her fists. His rock-hard chest was just under her hands. So close. A tingle slithered down her spine as her body went soft and pliant against his.
Heath’s hands left her face, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tighter to him. He still wore his weapon, and the promise of the violence she knew he possessed excited her. He was a warrior, not a man to idly stand by. How had she ever thought he would not take matters into his own hands?
That he wasn’t strong enough to do what must needs be done?
He backed her up, and she went blindly. Wherever he led, she would follow. The backs of her legs pressed into the couch, and he pushed her to sit and then knelt between her legs. He kept kissing her as he directed her hand to Wraith, his sword.
He’d never come to her armed before, and the unspoken message was loud and clear.
I will save you.
She ran her fingers over the cold steel which served as an extension of Heath. In all the time she’d watched him travel, he’d never allowed anyone to touch his weapons. He spent hours painstakingly cleaning Wraith, duplicating it with his shadow as if constant practice was needed.
The action of letting her touch them was not lost on her.
With steady fingers, Asherah pushed his shoulder harness off of him and lowered his sword to the floor. She moved her hands to his hips next, knowing the way across the strap that secured the bottom of the sheath. She unlatched it, even as Heath’s tongue, wet and warm, slid over hers. She gripped his waist, pulling him closer. He tasted so good to her starving heart.
Heath broke the kiss long enough to say, “Don’t stop,” and then directed her hands down farther. The backs of her knuckles brushed along the hard evidence of his arousal, and his mouth pressed back into hers, their teeth nearly colliding.
His hands were busy too. He rubbed warm, callused hands down her sides to the top of her dress, pushing it out from between where their chests met. His fingertips grazed the tops of her breasts, which were always unfettered.
Asherah never liked to have them bound like so many other Fae women did, creating soft, willowy figures. She enjoyed the curves of her body, what made her feminine in contrast to the hard planes of a male.
Heath seemed to enjoy that as well, smiling at what was before him.
“I have to see it all,” he said, sitting back. He gripped her dress with rough hands and jerked them apart, ripping the fabric and baring the rest of her body to him. Her nipples hardened to painful points as his gaze raked over her.
“So beautiful,” he moaned.
Asherah lifted the bottom of his shirt, and he let go of her long enough to help her take it off. Once again, she was bombarded with pleasure as his lean and cut body was exposed. His pectoral muscles flexed as he shifted, his abdominal muscles ripped enough for her to wash on. A long, thin scar spanned under his right arm down to his waist. Asherah leaned forward and kissed it.
She knew his memories, that at one time Heath had been a thief, stealing anything he could get his hands on. He’d done it to survive, to feed others. He did not care about what danger he may have faced because of it. The orphans needed him, just like Asherah now, and he met the challenge.
This scar, unseen by most, was from an enraged Escala after Heath had killed one of them the day Lorack was murdered. And that torture had extended into years of servitude until he was able to break away and run through the In Between to the Side of Fragile. That was the only way Heath could break the connection with his owner.
Asherah never wanted him to know such pain again. She wanted him to know only pleasure and happiness at her hands. She licked her way over the scar as Heath’s hands clenched in her hair, holding her to his body. She wondered what he looked like in this moment.
Would his head be thrown back, his neck tense, his black hair falling behind him, and his silver-studded eyes closed? Would his teeth be clenched, jaw working?
She sat up slowly, catching him in the exact position she had imagined. He was so very sexy, inside and out. She looked him over as he lowered his head.
The tip of his cock stretched past his pants, a pearl of liquid resting at the top. She licked her lips, not sure what she wanted to taste next. Heath took the decision out of her hands and grabbed her by the waist, forcing her to stand up. He kissed her stomach, clearing away the tattered remains of her dress. He sat her back on the couch, his eyes ablaze, and spread her legs.
“I think this is my favorite meal,” he whispered and lowered his head.
Asherah screamed, her eyes sliding closed as his mouth touched her core. He was ravenous. He did not let her catch her breath. Each slide of his tongue against her clit pushed her higher. Each nip of his teeth sent pleasure streaking through her. He sucked her, bit at her skin, and held her thighs in a vise-like grip. She arched on the couch, twisting with pleasure, but he would not let her get away.
“Heath,” she moaned. All she could focus on was the heat of his mouth. He shifted against her and caressed her legs with his fingers. He removed the rest of his clothing. She forced herself onto her elbows and opened her eyes. When she peered down, the sight made her catch her breath.
Heath lapped at her, his face glistening with her essence, his eyes tightly clenched. With one hand holding her thigh, he fisted the thick head of his cock with the other. She groaned and grasped his hair, tugging hard, and pulled him up her body.
“Now. I do not want to wait,” she urged and then stopped.
