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One of Luna’s fangs scraped against him, and Brand’s soul practically left his body as he bowed on a shock of absolute pleasure. In a blink, all of his focus was on experiencing that feeling again. On realizing he could give, even as he took.

Brand gripped the footboard behind him with his free hand, ready to hang on for dear life. “Take it, Luna,” he growled down at her, holding her still so she got the message. “Take my gift, freely fucking given.”

Her eyes rolled back in her head on a lengthy mewl and he actually felt the saliva flood her mouth.

And then she struck.

“Fucking…fuck!” Brand bellowed to the rafters, release hitting him in pounding waves.

Those twin points of pleasure-pain transported Brand out of space and time, galaxies wrapping down to consume him. Every gush of his essence, every sucking draw of her perfect fucking mouth as she fed, was pure ecstasy.

She drank and drank as he emptied himself into her, Luna’s incandescent power swelling around him with every swallow. The pressure of it was intoxicating, piecing him back together particle by particle, happy to hold him together.

Brand went limp, so spent he hardly knew his own name. He hissed through his teeth as Luna detached herself, his entire body shuddering. It was possible that—aside from their mating—he’d never experienced anything so incredible in his life.

Except the haze of lust buzzed away, leaving him shivering as it was replaced with utter exhaustion.

Marrow-deep, edge of the Veil exhaustion.

Luna healed her fang punctures, tucked herself into the crook of his arm, and misted them the right way ‘round on the bed, the pillows rising up like clouds to carry him away. All he thought as he drifted off was…

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing.

Thank the Sisters.

Lunara ran her fingers through Brand’s cropped hair, tempted to send a few threads of her power into the strands so it would grow back faster.

You know better than that. He didn’t ask. And you can’t go throwing magic about willy nilly.

She did. She did know. It was just…

Endellion told you to be gentle with him.

Endellion also said to follow the urgings of her heart and mind. She had a few ideas here and there, one sticking out above the others. But fixing his hair was a simpler task with far lower stakes. What if it was enough to help him feel more himself?

What if he needs to come back slowly?

Right. Which…seemed to be the case. Not that he, himself, really knew what he needed.

Until yesterday, their communication was entirely one-sided, Brand incapable of uttering a single word. Of doing anything but keeping his gaze fixed on her through the days, like he didn’t believe she was real. Like he was afraid she’d disappear forever if he lost sight of her.

She expected it because of Endellion’s one truth, but that look on his face…

Lunara sighed and snuggled closer, hoping the dark cocoon of the Evesong—along with the tireless day and night he made voracious love to her—might hold him under for longer this time. Perhaps he’d wake and be a little more whole. Maybe even loosen the death-grip he had on their bond so she could finally feel him again.

Or, at least, what was left of it. If it was there at all.

A part of her was struggling to accept this, that Brand was actually with her again, that the delicious ache in her body was real, because of the uncertainty. Lunara half expected to look up and discover his face warping, black bleeding from the pits of his eyes. That it was all a cruel trick, no matter how many times she sank her power into him to check that Night was truly gone.

Let’s hope Endellion meant it when she said all would be well.

It sure as shite didn’t feel like it at the moment.

Lunara breathed deep, taking the scent of salt and pine into herself, finding comfort in the freshness of it. In the distinct lack of the beast’s foul note beneath it.

It’s fine. He’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.

She was drifting off to join him in sleep when her wards triggered, a ripple passing through the cottage.