Retribution (59 page)

“You can't die, Quin,” she demanded, pressing her lips to his.

Her heart slowed in defeat, and she resolved to make it stop altogether if she lost his.

Gripping his jaw with bloody hands, she noticed his face was colder than the last time she touched it, just seconds ago. Or was it minutes? She was so scared, sad and confused, she couldn't think straight, and she wasn't sure of anything except she wanted her hero to stay, to keep breathing and looking at her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, expelling fat teardrops as she begged like never before. She begged in her head and heart, sending the plea to God and the Heavens and anyone else who might be listening.

“Please don't die, Quin... Please...”

“Layla!”

Her eyes popped open as panic rushed her, scattering her brain, body and vision. Hysterically flailing her hands, she gasped while blinking away blurry moisture. Then her fingers found Quin's cheek – warm and strong – and her eyes found his skin – tan and healthy. It had been a dream, a horrid dream.

She sobbed and ran her hands down his unmarred torso, but her heart still beat its unnatural and frenzied rhythm, making her sense-of-touch pitiful, so she searched his body with her distraught gaze as well.

“Hey,” he soothed, taking her cheeks. “It’s okay. Everything's okay. Deep breaths.”

She clutched his sides and closed her eyes, letting her breakdown take her for the ride she was powerless to forsake. She wailed in his face for at least five minutes before she could pull in a steady breath, but the tears continued to flow as she found his eyes. At least they were quiet tears. The gasping and blubbering had passed.

“What on earth did you dream about?” he asked, wiping the moisture from her cheeks.

She shook her head no, her face flexing as she stroked his.

He furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at her aura. “You don't want to talk about it?”
 

She shook her head again, keeping her quivering lips sealed. She couldn't say it out loud. The dream still chilled her bones, and she didn't dare repeat it.

Quin stared at her for several seconds, shocked by her refusal. “You're really not going to tell me?”

“No. I don't want to talk about it. I can't...” Her throat tightened, and she had to swallow a painful lump to keep going. “Please don't make me.”

“Okay,” he conceded, tucking her face into his neck.

She nuzzled his throat as another wave of tears broke free. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

“How did you know I was dreaming? Did I say something?”

“No, but your heart was going crazy, and you were crying and trying to push me away.”

No, she was trying to stop the bleeding. “I'm sorry.”

He pulled back and found her eyes. “Stop apologizing. I can handle being left in the dark about your nightmare, but I can't handle your guilt.”

As she stared at him, the horrible dream barged through her mind, and her jaw tensed as she fought more tears.

“Layla Love,” he whispered. “What can I do to make it better?”

She knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do to make it better. Only pulling through the impending battle unscathed would ease her worry. “Just hold me,” she answered, hoping the feel of his healthy body would at least ease the smothering weight of despair.

He kissed the moisture from her cheeks. Then he rolled her into a ball and tucked her into his chest.

“Tighter,” she insisted.

“I'm scared I'll hurt you,” he countered. “Your heart's making me numb.”

“Please. I'll tell you if it hurts.”

He sighed then gently squeezed. “Better?”

“Tighter, Quin. I promise I'll let you know if you're hurting me.”

“I'm not the only one who's numb, Layla. I don't want your muscles waking up to pain later.”

“I don't care about my muscles,” she snapped. “Please.”

“Okay.” He slowly tightened his hold. “Tell me when.”

She needed to know his muscles were well, so even when his grip became snug, she didn't tell him to stop, which garnered her a quiet reprimand.

“Layla.”

“Just a little more, Quin. I promise you're not hurting me.”
 

He added a little more pressure and finally got her approval. “Thank you,” she whispered, touching her lips to his heart. “Just stay right there. Just for a while.”

“As long as you need.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost one.”
 

Her heart sped up, further strengthening and deadening their muscles, and he loosened his grip.

“Quin!”

“I'm sorry, love, but I'm terrified I'll hurt you. Please be patient with me.”

His guilty and frustrated plea tugged at her vibrating heartstrings, and she sighed while wiggling up his torso. “You're doing everything right, Quin. It's me who's not being fair.”

“Nobody says you have to be, just don't make me hurt you. If I were to cause lasting damage...” He paused and swallowed. “I wouldn't handle it well. I'll hold and touch you all day, just let me mind my force, because I can't trust it right now.”

“I know,” she whispered, wrapping one leg around his waist. Then she pulled him closer, stroking his strong features while watching his tender eyes. “This is perfect. Let's stay like this for a while.”

“Gladly,” he agreed, sliding his hand to her butt. Then he smiled and gave a squeeze. “Last night was amazing.”

“It was better than amazing.”

“Hopefully we'll get the chance to do it again, but if we don't, I'll still die a satisfied man.”

She tensed and scowled. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?”
 

“Don't talk about your death,” she scolded. “I don't want to hear it.”

His forehead wrinkled, but he quickly reassured her. “Okay, love. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. Just don't do it again. It's not something that should be brought up so carelessly.”

He tilted his head as he flipped his gaze between her eyes and aura. “Is that what your dream was about? My death?”

She tried to turn away from him, but he forced her to stay put.

“I don't want to talk about it,” she whispered.

He saw through her refusal to answer, and his expression softened as his aura darkened. She could tell he was searching for ways to make her feel better, but this was out of his hands. “Just stop, Quin. Stop looking for ways to fix it, and let me try to forget about it.” She wouldn’t forget, but maybe she could push it to the background.

Returning her face to his neck, she parted her lips and breathed him in, still unable to stem her tears. Part of her wished she could go back to sleep to be visited by her usual sweet dreams instead of horrifying nightmares. She could just sleep in his arms and experience heavenly dreams about him until it was time to move into battle. Then the nightmare wouldn't get an opportunity to haunt her like a stinging itch she couldn't reach. But if she slept, she’d be giving up something precious and perfect – time with her hero. Real time, not dream time. Actual time to touch his immaculate body and look into his passionate eyes. No amount of peace-of-mind was worth losing that.

Taking the back of her head in one hand, he slid the other down her thigh. “Will you let me help you? I can’t make you forget, but I can distract you.”

That’s exactly what she needed – a distraction. And they were mere hours away from marching into battle. This might be their last chance.

She left his neck and found his eyes. “Distract me. Just one more time before… before we have to leave.”

“I’d love to, but not while your heart’s beating like that.”

“I trust you won't hurt me, Quin.”

“I know you do, but I don't trust myself, so you have to slow your heart down before we do this. We'll let it have its way with us when we're done.”

She didn’t waste a moment before closing her eyes and slowing her pulse, and she knew it was back to normal when Quin laid her on her back and moved over her. Her lungs froze, her eyes closed as she anticipated his touch, waiting for her distraction, dying for it.

His fingers drifted down her stomach and reached between her legs, dipping into folds that were already moist despite her despair and terror. Then he poised to enter her body and moved his hand away. Bracing himself with one arm, he took her cheek and kissed her forehead, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, gripping him like her life depended on it.

His muscles flexed as he pressed inside her, and a heavy sob composed of the happiest and saddest feelings she'd ever experienced burst from her chest.

He halted, not breathing as he listened to her cry.

“I'm sorry,” she gasped. “I'm so sorry.” She felt absolutely awful for bawling in the intimate moment.

He hugged her to his chest. Then he floated from the bed, keeping her wrapped around him as he sat on the comforter. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she blurted. “Please don't. It makes me so happy to be this close to you.” A thought occurred to her, and the waterworks paused as she found his eyes. “I'm turning you off. My crying turns you off.” And with that, a wave of sorrow took her, and she slumped into his chest as more tears chased the others.

“No,” he assured, stroking her hair. “It probably should, and I feel a little immoral that it's not, but I don't think anything could stop me from being turned on by you.” His thumb stopped on her temple as his chest expanded. “Look at me, love.”

She obeyed, and he gave her a kiss before whispering against her lips. “I can handle your tears. I understand why they’re there.”

“Then you know it’s because I love you, because I love this.”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t stop.”

He smiled and raised an eyebrow. “That sounded like a challenge.”

How he still managed to display confidence and a smile when she was blubbering during sex, she didn’t know, but he throbbed inside her at the word challenge. Maybe it was his ego talking.

He reached under her hair and took the back of her neck, bracing her with his forearm. Then his other hand grabbed her butt and lifted, almost pulling her off him.

She clutched his shoulders and shook, her rapid breaths puffing into his mouth as her body yearned for him to come back. But he kept her on the edge for a long time, teasing her and watching her face, waiting for desire to dry her tears.

The fingers on her backside curled between her thighs, and the others clutched a handful of curls, giving him precision control while keeping her from stealing it. Every time he moved her, she held her breath, waiting for more, but then he’d raise her back to the edge and leave her there, twice as turned on as before. And she loved it. At that moment, she didn’t need an orgasm, she needed him. She needed his hands on her, his eyes on her; she needed the feel of his flesh and the peace of his lights. And she had it all.

He smiled, and she realized her tears had finally run dry. Distraction indeed. She didn’t even remember the moment she stopped thinking about the end.

He pulled her into a hug while pressing her down around him, and the grip in her hair loosened, his hand smoothing her curls as he kissed her head.

Considering he’d spent so much time teasing her, she didn’t expect him to take things slow, but he did, and it was exactly what she wanted – to stay lost in him as long as possible.

She closed her eyes and nuzzled the dip between his neck and shoulder. Then she ran her lips over his heart. Soon, she found herself rubbing up against him – kissing and sucking as her nails dipped into flesh, trying to pull his healthy body closer. Vocal cords humming, she groped his back, kneading rippling muscles while dragging her breasts over hard pecs, and her mouth made love to his neck, pausing only so she could stroke her face on his strong shoulder.

While she took advantage of him like a needy feline, he spoiled her by sliding his palms along every inch of flesh he could reach, making sure she got the skin contact she needed. But he was restricted to her backside, and she craved his touch in the front.

He had his hands on her thighs, his fingers curving around the back as he raised her up, and before he could bring her back down, she arched and pulled away.

The air swept from his lungs as he sat frozen, suddenly severed from everything that mattered, but she ignored his shock, using his knee to brace herself as she flipped her left leg over him and turned around. He had yet to come to his senses when she returned to him, and his lungs refilled with a gasp when she took him into her body.

“Oh shit.”

He leaned back and stretched, lifting her from the bed as his hips thrust him deeper, and she moaned and arched toward his chest, hungry for his hands. With a quiet growl he sat up, wrapping her in a hug. Then she turned her face into his neck, listening to his heart thunder as his palm found her breasts.

He caught a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing just hard enough to make her breath catch. Then his other hand reached between her legs, his attentive fingers pressing all the right spots.