If he lives.
CHAPTER 17
CHOOSING
ELENA – RYTHAR’S FORTRESS IN THE GREEN REACH
I waketo the feeling of being held by someone huge and warm. Hours must have passed. Rythar is wrapped around me, his bitten arm banded tight over my middle, his breath slow and even above my head. I turn my head enough so that I can check his status. There’s no fever in him, and the black marks of the venom under his skin are practically gone. There’s just the deep, pulsing warmth of a male who’s come back from the dead. Rythar’s body turned my antidote into a victory. Relief shudders through me, only to catch when I realize how snugly he’s got me pinned.
The blanket is kicked half off. I’m still wearing my white dress, but it’s bunched up high, baring my legs. I lift my head and see Rythar’s exposed hip, the way the muscle dips to the center of it. He must have stripped down to nothing in his sleep, and every time his chest expands, it presses the whole length of his body tighter into mine.
I try to shift, and his grip tightens, fingers flat against my stomach, drawing my back even closer to his front. The hard length of his cock presses against my ass—and I feel it throbbing against me. I freeze, unsure if he’s awake or just running on instinct.
The answer comes when he buries his face in my hair, inhales deeply, like he’s savoring me. Then he lets out a half growl, half groan.
“Hey,” I mutter, trying to twist away, but he’s not having it.
His hand slides from my stomach to my hip, his fingers pressing hard, possessive, and he pulls me tighter against him. Every inch of him is pressed into me now, his chest against my back, his hips grinding into my ass, his cock pulsing against me.
“Hey?” he echoes, his voice low and rough, thick with sleep and desire.
“I want to go.”
His brow pulls tight, like he’s trying to figure something out. His grip tightens, just enough to remind me of his sheer size, the power held in every muscle. It’s not painful, but it’s not gentle either. It’s powerfully sexual, pure desire, and my body reacts to it.
I keep the tension in my body, my spine rigid.
“No. No go. No run,” he says, the words clipped and oddly placed, like he’s grabbing at the wrong meaning. He ran hot enough last night to denature human proteins. The translator under his skin never stood a chance. There’s an edge to his voice now, frustration or need, I can’t tell.
“I want to go,” I say again, wiggling.
“I want, too,” he grunts. His voice is low in my ear, rumbling down my skin.
For a second, I wonder if his patience with me is finally cracking. But it’s passion, not frustration. I wiggle more, but my wiggling only makes him hold me tighter, his cock grinding into my ass with every movement. I can feel the heat of him, the way his body tenses like he’s barely holding back.
“Did your brain get fried or is your translator broken again?” I snap, trying to sound pissed off instead of breathless.
He shifts suddenly, rolling me onto my back so fast I don’t have time to think. I’m pinned under the weight of his arm, staring up into his ember-gold eyes as they glow like wildfire. He’s studying me.
And he looks confused, like he’s lost the thread of what I just said. Still, his gaze drops to my lips, and I swear I can feel it like a physical touch.
He doesn’t kiss me.
Instead, the confusion lingers while we look at each other.
“You fried my brain?” He frowns. Then his mouth twitches. He understood more than his words let on.
“Yes,” I lie, because my body is screaming at me to stop talking and just give in.
He grins. "You lie." He taps his ear where the translator sits. “Broken.” Then he taps his head. "Not broken."
“Get off me,” I say, voice breathy.
He rolls off, but only far enough to cage me with his body, his thigh pushing between my legs and spreading them apart as he plants one hand beside my head. His cock throbs against my hip while arousal pools between my legs.
Leaning in, he brushes his nose along the curve of my jaw before lowering his mouth to the pulse pounding at the base of my throat. My breathing hitches as he flicks his tongue over sensitive skin, and a shiver rolls through me.
I want to yank him closer so he can do exactly what he’s doing—just a little rougher.
