Rythar’s hands are fists at my hips, his whole body shaking with the effort not to thrust up and take control.
I start to move. Slow at first, rocking back and forth, the friction stoking a fire in my belly that burns away every thought except more. He watches me, eyes black with need, lips parted.
The scent of the Reach’s minerals, spices, and sex mix in the air until it’s all I can taste.
I’m close, so close it hurts.
He feels it, too. “Don’t stop,” he rasps.
Never.
I ride him, grinding down, every nerve ending lit up. The heat spreads out, flooding my pelvis, my torso, my chest, my neck, my head. My body clenches hard around him.
I come, heat detonating outward, goosebumps prickling my skin, muscles locking down as I ride the wave. Rythar groans and lets go, thrusting up into me once, twice, then spilling inside me with a shudder that shakes the bed.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the pulse, our breaths, and the slow return to reality.
I collapse onto his chest, breathing hard. His arms wrap around me, holding me in place.
We lie there, tangled together, for minutes or hours. The light never changes. I lose track of time as the mental bond that connects us slides back into place like it was always meant to be there.
The world narrows to the bond, the heat between us and the slow beat of our hearts.
I must have slept.
A spike of cold hits my spine.
A second presence slams into my head, shattering the peace.
Sophia.
It feels like she’s in the room with me, but she’s not.
Terror.
Sophia’s mind is compressed to a single, shivering point of terror. She’s controlling it, locking it down.
The bond yanks me upright, gasping.
Rythar sits up, alert, instantly aware that something is wrong. His body shields mine, even as his eyes scan the empty room for threats.
“What is it?” he asks, voice deadly.
I clutch my head, trying to block out the psychic intrusion, but it’s everywhere. Sophia’s fear, her pain, her refusal to submit. The connection is total, as if she’s in my blood.
“Sophia,” I choke out. “The connection to her. She’s not okay.”
Rythar's face hardens. He gathers me against his chest with one arm, his free hand pressing flat between my shoulder blades. He reads the speed of my breathing through his palm. I know because his own breathing shifts to match it, slowing mine down by force of example. "Easy," he murmurs, the way he talks to things in his jungle. "Easy. Stay with me. Stay here." His thumb moves in slow circles on my spine, patient and repetitive, until the shaking in my ribs downshifts from violent to something I can almost control. The Stone must have reactivated the circuit with my friends when I fully accepted the bond.
“I can feel her,” I say, voice shaking. “She’s screaming, but no one hears her.”
Rythar’s jaw locks, the muscle standing out along his neck. He pulls me into his lap, holding me tight, as if that could shield me from psychic assault.
The next wave is worse. Sophia’s mind—her voice—slices through me in a psychic scream.
HELP ME.
I can’t take this. I squeeze my eyes shut and beg the Stone to make it stop.
