Shadow's End (29 page)

I treasure the breaths we take together, and I am stricken with envy for them, for they mingle closer and more completely than our bodies can join.

Your beauty makes me fall out of the sky and want to stay tethered to earth. Let me follow you everywhere, my love, through the lightest moments, and the darkest. I can only be happy if we share all our pain.

Don't leave me, I beg of you, for my spirit will go with you, and then I will truly become clay.

He whispered things against her body, the monster. He did not even know what. They were raw and naked, words that came from wounds of the heart, blooming like roses.

She sobbed and twisted underneath the caress of his lips, his deadly hands. He could not make his talons retract, and so he found gentleness after all, for he would die before he could ever mar her delicate beauty.

She tasted exquisite, like every dream he'd ever had of bliss. He tongued her plump lips, plundered the private recesses of her mouth, licked at the slender stalk of her neck where her life beat, strong and sure, underneath the velvet-scented veil of her skin.

While he lost himself in doing to her everything he had ever imagined, squandering the yearning daydreams of centuries, the flow of her body coursed underneath his hands, twisting and turning to match the needs of his body.

Like an enchanted mirror, her gaze told him he was the most beautiful lover in all the land. He had always known he could only be beautiful through the gaze of someone who looked at him with true love.

Passion rose underneath her skin, so that she burned with the kind of luminescence that could only be seen with his soul. He followed the path it showed him, licking along the
curves and hollows of her body, suckling at each of her nipples, until the graceful way she touched him grew broken and demanding.

The hunger in her voice as she cried out sounded like music to him, silvery and passionate, like watching the sun glint off a starling's wing. The salt of her aroused scent was earthy, addicting. He rubbed his cheek down the flat, shaking line of her abdomen, drawn inevitably to the most secret part of her.

She parted her legs, granting him access to her most sensitive, fragile flesh. He fell into licking and caressing her with his tongue, tracing the silken, delicate folds with the kind of reverence such treasure deserved. The musk of her arousal slicked his lips.

His own body felt molten hot, his erection so thick and tight, it jutted straight out from his body. As he sprawled on his stomach, pushing down lower on the bed to feast on her, the slight friction of his cock rubbing on the coarse sheets caused him to ejaculate.

Gritting his teeth, he endured the unsatisfying pulse of pleasure/pain. He needed to be inside her
oh gods so badly
, yet he couldn't leave the sensual wealth spread underneath him.

Carefully spreading her plump, ruby-tinted flesh, he found her clitoris. When he put his mouth over it, a breathless cry broke out of her lips. She lifted off the bed, head arched back, while the long, shapely muscles of her inner thighs clenched.

That was what he wanted. He needed to hear her scream. Contentment eased the fire of his own need. It wouldn't last, but he would make it last long enough.

Suckling at her tiny, powerful peak of flesh, he stroked the petals that surrounded her entrance, caressing the dainty folds. More of her liquid arousal coated his fingers. She sank shaking fingers into his hair, sobbing, “I don't know. I don't know.”

What don't you know?
the monster whispered in her head.

“It's so intense, I don't know if I can stand it.” The confession tumbled out of her trembling mouth.

Trust me,
he murmured.
You can take it
.

She was stronger than she knew. She was stronger than almost anybody he knew.

Briefly, deliriously happy, he flicked her clitoris with tense care over the edge of his teeth. Finally he was able to make his talons retract, as he plunged two greedy fingers deep inside of her. With his invasion, he felt her convulse.

The climax rippled out from her core to the rest of her body, and it was so fucking beautiful. So fucking beautiful, suddenly, he could barely wait for her to finish. Somehow, he did, massaging her internal passage to help her through it.

When her pleasure ebbed, he pounced. Crawling up her body, he brought the tip of his cock to her entrance. Her hand collided with his as she reached to help him in.

Savagery returned. As he thrust into her tight, hot sheath, he sank his fingers deep into the mattress, clawing at it from a pleasure so deep, it was like agony.

He needed her so badly, he started ejaculating again with the first thrust. His face twisted, his back arching. Eyes wide, she stared up at him in wonder. As she stroked both hands down his chest, he shot harder into her.

It wasn't enough. It could never be enough.

She's your chance, man.

Take it. Take her.

“You're mine,” he growled into her face.

She whispered through lips swollen from his kisses, “Yes.”

Almost apologetically, he confessed, “I can't stop. I've got to do it again.”

At that, she wound her arms around his neck again. He could never get tired of how passionately she held him. She said against his mouth, “Take everything you need, my love. Everything I've got is yours.”

She's your chance, man.

He took everything she had to give.

Such a precious gift.

NINETEEN

T
he day before the masque, they cremated Constantine's remains. Everywhere in New York City, flags were flown at half-mast. Traffic was muted, and many shops closed their doors.

The weather had warmed as well, and a light drizzle fell from the gray sky. It felt as if the whole world mourned his death.

Dragos had ordered a special brazier created, one large enough to hold a man. It was set on the roof of the Tower. The sentinels took Constantine's body, dressed in simple, everyday clothes, and laid him gently on it.

Then everybody who could fit onto the roof of the Tower came. Those who couldn't fit on the roof stood on the stairs, all eighty flights down to the street, where people gathered around the building on the sidewalks. Bel heard later that the crowd extended for several blocks in every direction around the Tower.

She took her place beside Graydon in a circle of the sentinels, holding his hand. Rune and Carling joined the circle. The harpy Aryal wept openly, while her mate Quentin
rubbed her back, his jaw tight. Grym and Alexander stared fixedly at Constantine, while the fourth gryphon Bayne bowed his head, covering his face with one hand.

Dragos, Pia and Liam stood nearby. Pia's eyes were puffy and red, and Liam kept wiping at his face. Pia kept her arm around the boy's shoulders. Occasionally she whispered in his ear and tightened her hold, hugging him against her side.

And Dragos . . . Bel did her very best not to stare, but she couldn't help stealing a glance or two at his bleak expression. The fierce gold of his eyes had gone dull, and she thought she saw something hot and smoking on his lean cheeks. It was almost as if the dragon cried tears of fire.

The Great Beast could feel love and loss. He could feel grief. Her understanding of who and what he was metamorphosed into something new. While she could never imagine becoming close to him, she could finally accept he had grown into someone else. He was no longer the animal that had preyed on the Elves so long ago.

Graydon gripped her fingers tight. His expression appeared stony as he clenched down on his grief. He didn't shed tears or speak, but she knew how raw his grief was inside. While she hadn't known Constantine, she grieved for Graydon's loss.

When everybody was assembled, Dragos stepped forward, to the edge of the brazier. Looking down at Constantine's quiet face, he stroked back the tawny hair. He didn't speak any words. Nobody said anything.

The soft murmur of voices stilled, and the rest of the Tower went completely silent, except for the sound of the wind and the rain. While the silence seemed strange to Bel, it also felt somehow fitting, as if the Wyr's grief were too large for words.

Constantine's body disappeared in a great blaze of fire, and he was released forever to the open sky. A column of smoke appeared briefly overhead, signaling to the whole city that he was gone. A few minutes later, when the blaze died down, the brazier was empty. The dragon fire had blazed so hot, nothing remained.

While they held no wake, they had pared work down to a minimum, only to essential personnel. Graydon was still on medical leave, so after the short, silent ceremony, he and Bel walked back to his apartment. Once inside, he didn't release her hand.

Instead, he led her to the shadowed bedroom, and she went willingly. There, he undressed her in silence, while she focused on removing his clothes, injecting all the love and compassion she could into each passing caress, until they stood naked, facing each other.

Graydon's body was as powerful as ever, his massive frame covered with heavy muscles and deeply tanned skin. Vitality poured off him, while inside, she knew his shattered rib cage, breastplate and chest muscles were still strengthening after Pia had healed him.

He could do normal activities, but his surgeon had not yet cleared him for strenuous flights or battle.

A scar like a starburst covered the middle of his broad chest.

She stroked it. The intensity of his silent grief broke her composure. Her face crumpling, she leaned against him and pressed her lips to the shiny scar.

“I'm always going to be grateful to him,” she whispered. “Every single day of my life, I'm going to thank him for what he did for you.”

A shudder rocked his powerful frame. Breathing raggedly, he gathered her close and kissed her.

Everything he couldn't say poured out of his fingers, his mouth. She felt his pain and need as keenly as if it were her own.

He kissed her so hard and deeply, he bruised her lips. She welcomed the discomfort, kissing him back, meeting his need with her own. His hands roamed her body with restless urgency, cupping her breasts, running down the curve of her spine, gripping her hips.

She pulled away, only to take him by the wrist, fall back on the bed and tug him down with her.

He came eagerly, covering her body with his. His welcome
weight settled on top of her, she parted her legs and wrapped them around his hips until his large, heavy cock pressed against her pelvis.

The need drove them both. As she reached between them to grasp his hard erection he lifted up on his elbows, and she guided him to her opening. This wasn't about sensuality, or taking their time to explore each other's pleasure points. This was something darker and so much more necessary.

Despite the taut urgency in his body, he pushed in gently, rocking deeper with every thrust, until he had seated himself all the way inside her, filling her completely, not just physically but emotionally.

“I don't know how I lived without you,” he whispered into her hair, as he moved inside her. “I know I did. There's a full, complete set of memories in my head of a very long, complicated life. But it's almost as if those memories belong to another man. A man very like me, but still someone else.”

“I know what you mean,” she murmured stroking the back of his head, his shoulders, the broad, long line of his back. “I have been needing and wanting you for so many centuries, before we even met, I just didn't know that what I needed and wanted was you.”

He cradled her head in the palm of one large hand, leaning his weight on one elbow as his hips flexed. The hard length of his cock was so big.

He was almost too big, stretching her as far as she could go. It was a deep, good ache that obliterated the cold, empty spot that had existed in the depth of her soul for so long.

She never wanted him to stop. She wanted them to always be joined just like this, moving together, in a rhythm so ancient, so essential it consumed them. They were each among the oldest of their kind, yet this need—this drive—still ruled them.

Gradually, he picked up the pace, and she lifted her hips to meet each thrust gladly. A deep, burning pleasure tightened her body, until it became a high, piercing spike of need.

He reached between them to stroke along the soft petals of flesh at her stretched opening where he penetrated her. Whirls of sensation cascaded through her at each stroke,
until he found the tiny bud of her clitoris. When he massaged that small, unbelievably sensitive spot, an explosion rocked her body.

Crying out, she clutched him, shuddering as the ripples of the climax rippled through her nerve endings. He was so beautiful to her—even in the midst of his own grief and need, he gave, he didn't take.

Rocking his hips so that he kept fucking her gently, he didn't stop massaging her, drawing out her pleasure until her sensitivity grew so great, she couldn't bear it any longer.

Pulling his hand away, she pushed at his shoulder and urged him softly, “Roll over, my love. Let me come on top.”

Readily, he complied. Keeping them joined by wrapping an arm around her hips and holding her to him, he settled back against the pillows.

Straddling him, she settled into place. With him inside her, this position made him feel even bigger than before. Spreading her hands on his flat, muscular stomach, she braced herself and began to move.

The look in his eyes. His tight, raw expression.

She wanted to cry for him. But that wasn't the kind of release he needed. He needed to break free himself. She picked up her tempo, undulating her torso as she gripped his cock as tightly as she could with her inner muscles. Massaging him, working him, silently urging him to cut loose.

Bowing her head, she held his gaze, and her dark hair fell forward covering him like a silken tent.

As she fucked him, he stroked her breasts and fingered her hair. “I love you,” she told him. “I love you.”

Her words seemed to break him out of a trance. Gripping her by the hips he thrust up, and up again, until he pistoned inside her. The friction grew unbearable, and while she had wanted to make this about him, her own pleasure skyrocketed again, until another climax slammed into her body. She flung out her hands and cried out from the force of it.

He grabbed her hands, gripping them tightly, as he shoved into her. His careful tenderness splintered and the expression on his face turned feral.

Then he arched his spine and ground his pelvis bone against hers, groaning. She was stretched so tightly inside, she could feel when his cock began to pulse. He spurted inside of her, shaking.

This time, she knew what to expect. Even as his climax slowed, his face twisted. He growled, “It's not enough. It can't ever be enough.”

“Come on,” she invited softly. “Give it to me. Give everything to me.”

He lifted her off his body. Rising up to his knees, with one hand on her back, he urged her onto her hands and knees.

Eagerly, she settled into place, bracing herself for him. It was a frank, carnal position, everything she could possibly want it to be. She had thought he needed to cut loose. She hadn't considered her own needs, or that she needed to cut loose as well.

He came over her from behind, covering her, and before she could reach between her legs to help guide him in again, she felt the broad, thick head of his cock probing at her entrance. This time, when he slid in, she was slick from both of their pleasure, and she felt him enter her in one long, luxurious thrust that shoved her forward onto her elbows.

She groaned, shaking everywhere. The large muscles in her thighs quivered. Everything civilized that she thought she knew about herself fell away, as he wound both big hands into her hair and pinned her down.

“You're mine,” he growled. “Say it.”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“I fought for you. I waited for you. I'll live for you. I'd die for you.” With each sentence, he thrust into her again. “You're my heart, my soul. Mine.”

“Don't let me go again,” she sobbed into the bedspread. “Don't ever let me go.”

“Never
.
”

He would never give up, never let her go, never stop wanting or needing her. He would always be faithful, always welcoming. The emotional reality of that began to sink in.

Finally, after all the issues that had darkened her life,
this devotion, this adamant dedication, was what lay at shadow's end.

The last of the cold, sharp pain that had haunted her for so long shattered. Tears spilled down her face. She couldn't climax again. She was spent. But still the pressure built, as he kept up such a patient, steady and
oh my gods
relentless pace.

Then her gentle, adorable, dangerous lover came down over her back and bit her at the back of her neck, and it was such a possessive, animalistic thing to do, it shocked her right out of her exhaustion and hurtled her into a third climax.

Sounds came out of her. Sounds that she had never heard herself make. She was no longer in control of her body. He was.

He twisted behind her. With a muffled groan, he began to shudder all over as he climaxed again too. He had barely begun to slow, when he gasped, “Again—I've got to.”

She was beyond physical words. She breathed,
Whatever you need. Take me however much you need. I'm yours.

Totally and completely, devoted to him.

Driven by need, he took her again, and again, until the sun set and the room lay in total darkness. At some point, she felt transformed, existing almost outside of her body, as if she had gone through a crucible to emerge on the other side, a new burnished stranger.