Page 159 of Black Sea

Him, him, him.

87

When dawn came, the thick walls of shadows had already faded. Amlach was still asleep beneath me, his strong legs tangled with mine, and his arms holding me tight even though there was no need.

Because I was draped all over him.

I didn’t know how long I’d been squeezing him so spasmodically. I just knew I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.

I wanted to be able to control the darkness to keep him here. Forever. Unbeknownst to anyone.

I didn’t want the sun to come up.

I didn’t want him to go back to being Mornon the Abomination.

I wanted to keep listening to his steady breathing and admiring his sculpted profile and feeling the hair on his chest tickle my nipples. I wanted to have him inside me once more, hard and insatiable. I wanted to hear him growl my name again as he reached climax. I wanted to pant his name into his ear as he filled me.

I wanted our love to save us.

But it was impossible.

I was about to wake him up and beg, beg, beg him to give up his lust for conquest and sheer power when I caught the echo of the soldiers’ paced footsteps and the rattle of hooves along the grassy main road through Aegel.

The army was moving.

My time with Amlach was over.

As if his subconscious had sensed it too, he inhaled suddenly, and his eyes flew open.

I parted my lips to tell him to close them, to go back to sleep, that I would protect him from everything and everyone, but no words came out.

It was as if terror had robbed me of my voice.

Amlach tried to sit up, but I pressed my palms on his chest to hold him down. He then took a breath full of hatred, grabbed my wrists, and forced me to sit up with him. I struggled to pull free from his grasp, so Amlach locked my hands on the mattress on either side of his legs.

I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against his so forcefully that we both groaned. “Not yet,” I pleaded, rubbing my cheek hard against his beard. “Not yet.”

And he gave in with an angry sigh.

I ran my hands through his hair to remember its softness, over his shoulders to remember their strength. I tucked my head into the crook of his neck to imprint his scent on my memory, and I bit and sucked his throat so I wouldn’t forget the sound of his hisses of pleasure.

He kissed my arms, my palms. He buried his face in my hair to sniff me like an animal as he held me tight with anger. He ran his black fingers through my wavy hair with the face of someone who knew it was the last time.

However, when I tried to kiss him, he dodged my lips and swung his legs out of bed.

Before he could stand up, I slid my arms under his and clutched at the top of his shoulders like a hawk. “Please don’t go,” I gasped in despair. I kissed the tip of his ear, hearing him inhale sharply and shiver. “Stay.”

His body grew stiff as a block of stone as he shut down all emotions. As he cut me out.

The moment I realized I was no longer holding onto Amlach, but Mornon, chill spread through me, gradually freezing all my anguish, all my suffering.

All my love.

Very slowly, I released him and clenched the tangled bed sheets in my fists with such force that my knuckles turned white.

Mornon lingered on the bed’s edge for a few more seconds, marble-still, his mind seeming light years away. Finally, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, he rose. He extended one hand toward his torn clothes, and they magically reappeared on him, whole. He did the same for the boots, then turned slightly toward me.

“Don’t be late, Elf,” he said hollowly.