through the heat and insanity. They twined together, moved together, and the incense-laden air around them sparked.
It seemed no more than a moment before her nails dug into his shoulders and she cried out, spasming against him. He kept going, driving her beyond the first orgasm to another, driving himself beyond madness. Sensation layered atop sensation, until finally pleasure shock-waved through him in an orgasm that locked his muscles tight on a roar of magic and triumph.
The chameleon shield went red and gold with the purest of Nightkeeper magic as he emptied himself into her and she fisted around him, the two of them locked together in thundering pleasure that drew out from one heartbeat to the next, and the next. It seemed unbelievable that the gray-robes didn’t see or sense it as they mounted a concerted rush out the door, leaving the chamber empty, the door still braced open.
Michael was peripherally aware that they were gone, but that wasn’t his focus as passion faded to its aftermath and he sagged, bracing himself against the wall with one arm and holding Sasha against him with the other. He should’ve been wrung out, sated. Satisfied. And on one level he was.
But on another level, fresh and greedy need clawed at him, demanding that he take more, that he take her , make her part of him. And that was a level he didn’t want to go to. One he wished he could rid himself of forever.
Fuck . His defenses were down. She’d stripped him bare, leaving him wide open. And he’d been so caught up in her that he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t reacted to the threat.
Closing his eyes, working fast, he tried to find the center of himself, seeking the peace that had kept him sane for the past year-plus, ever since the talent ceremony that had released the creature within him, the murderous alter ego he called the Other. But he couldn’t find his center. Instead, he found sex magic still burning hot within him, but its jagged edges growing teeth and claws, digging into him, taking him over. Heat rose again, but this time it wasn’t the need to sink himself within her.
It was a far darker, more dangerous need. One she’d brought out in him somehow, even though he’d been able to keep it at bay for so long.
No , he grated inwardly, struggling to keep the Other where it belonged, locked away from the outside world. Don’t you fucking do it . He envisioned the sky-high dam he’d constructed, piece by piece, at the back of his brain, envisioned locking his other self safely behind it. Instead, the dam bulged obscenely as the Other strained to break through, drawn by Sasha’s vital energy, darkness pulled toward the light.
She shifted against him and murmured something into his neck. Strung tight, he pressed his cheek to hers and fought a silent and—hopefully—invisible battle to keep the halves of himself together, fought not to lose control of himself. And in doing so, he missed the moment for soft words and praise.
“I said , your earpiece is yelling for you.” Sasha turned her face away from him, her body tense. “And let me down.”
“Sasha—” he began.
“Let. Me. Down.” Her voice was icy.
Shit . He released her, and watched as she retrieved her pants with as much dignity as possible under the circumstances. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process what had just happened, either between the two of them or between him and the Other. The sex had touched him deeply. And that was a problem.
But he had to say something. So he went with, “Sorry. Postcoital brain freeze. Let me check in with the others; then we’ll talk. I promise.” He waited for her nod, which was a beat slow in coming; then he zipped his fly and jammed his receiver back into his ear. He wasn’t even sure when it’d fallen out. “Stone here,” he grated after keying on his throat mike.
“Godsdamn it!”Strike’s voice exploded in his ear. “What have you—Never mind. Are you in the chamber?”
His gut
It seemed no more than a moment before her nails dug into his shoulders and she cried out, spasming against him. He kept going, driving her beyond the first orgasm to another, driving himself beyond madness. Sensation layered atop sensation, until finally pleasure shock-waved through him in an orgasm that locked his muscles tight on a roar of magic and triumph.
The chameleon shield went red and gold with the purest of Nightkeeper magic as he emptied himself into her and she fisted around him, the two of them locked together in thundering pleasure that drew out from one heartbeat to the next, and the next. It seemed unbelievable that the gray-robes didn’t see or sense it as they mounted a concerted rush out the door, leaving the chamber empty, the door still braced open.
Michael was peripherally aware that they were gone, but that wasn’t his focus as passion faded to its aftermath and he sagged, bracing himself against the wall with one arm and holding Sasha against him with the other. He should’ve been wrung out, sated. Satisfied. And on one level he was.
But on another level, fresh and greedy need clawed at him, demanding that he take more, that he take her , make her part of him. And that was a level he didn’t want to go to. One he wished he could rid himself of forever.
Fuck . His defenses were down. She’d stripped him bare, leaving him wide open. And he’d been so caught up in her that he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t reacted to the threat.
Closing his eyes, working fast, he tried to find the center of himself, seeking the peace that had kept him sane for the past year-plus, ever since the talent ceremony that had released the creature within him, the murderous alter ego he called the Other. But he couldn’t find his center. Instead, he found sex magic still burning hot within him, but its jagged edges growing teeth and claws, digging into him, taking him over. Heat rose again, but this time it wasn’t the need to sink himself within her.
It was a far darker, more dangerous need. One she’d brought out in him somehow, even though he’d been able to keep it at bay for so long.
No , he grated inwardly, struggling to keep the Other where it belonged, locked away from the outside world. Don’t you fucking do it . He envisioned the sky-high dam he’d constructed, piece by piece, at the back of his brain, envisioned locking his other self safely behind it. Instead, the dam bulged obscenely as the Other strained to break through, drawn by Sasha’s vital energy, darkness pulled toward the light.
She shifted against him and murmured something into his neck. Strung tight, he pressed his cheek to hers and fought a silent and—hopefully—invisible battle to keep the halves of himself together, fought not to lose control of himself. And in doing so, he missed the moment for soft words and praise.
“I said , your earpiece is yelling for you.” Sasha turned her face away from him, her body tense. “And let me down.”
“Sasha—” he began.
“Let. Me. Down.” Her voice was icy.
Shit . He released her, and watched as she retrieved her pants with as much dignity as possible under the circumstances. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process what had just happened, either between the two of them or between him and the Other. The sex had touched him deeply. And that was a problem.
But he had to say something. So he went with, “Sorry. Postcoital brain freeze. Let me check in with the others; then we’ll talk. I promise.” He waited for her nod, which was a beat slow in coming; then he zipped his fly and jammed his receiver back into his ear. He wasn’t even sure when it’d fallen out. “Stone here,” he grated after keying on his throat mike.
“Godsdamn it!”Strike’s voice exploded in his ear. “What have you—Never mind. Are you in the chamber?”
His gut
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