more.
Slowly, hesitantly, she began to move, circling her hips against his. His hands tightened, then with a groan, he let go and brought his hands back up to rest beside his head.
Tyriel covered them with her own, twining their fingers until their hands were as entwined as their bodies.
“Aryn...”
He shuddered, sweat breaking out across his body, his eyes locked with hers. “Tyriel...love...”
Tears flooded her eyes. Wild magic escaped her, slipping past her grip with ease because she had no control left, barely any strength.
Aryn pulled her closed and took her mouth, arching beneath her as she tightened around him, climax racing closer. Tugging his other hand from her tight grasp, he reached them, clever fingers seeking, then stroking the pulsating knot of her clitoris.
She jolted, her spine going rigid as she jerked upright. Aryn arched beneath her, his powerful body pumping hard and fast, driving into her as she clenched around him, her orgasm slamming into her with brutal force.
He muttered her name, swore, then again, in a low, awed whisper, “Tyriel...”
As he climaxed inside her, she cried out his name.
Magic, wild and unfettered, escaped them both, choking the air with light, while Tyriel’s skin glowed from within.
She sank down, still shuddering to collapse against his chest.
The glow of her skin didn’t fade for a long, long time.
Chapter 21
“You are thinking so very loudly,” Tyriel mumbled.
“Am I?” Aryn stroked his hand down her back, far too aware of how thin she was. But the energy, the inner strength that was her core, that filled her.
He could sense it, all but taste the sheer life of her.
So many questions tumbled inside his head. But he pushed them aside. If he was thinking loudly, as Tyriel had put it, he was keeping her from resting. She might not be able to see inside his head as he’d once accused her of doing, but she had the most sensitive soul he’d ever encountered. That she’d picked up on the turbulence inside him was no surprise.
She sat up, the movements far slower than he was used to seeing from her, and her normal fluid grace wasn’t there. But her cheeks glowed with color. Her eyes no longer reflected screaming darkness he’d seen in the days after they’d taken her out of the miserable hole where she’d been held captive. Her dark, tumbling mass of curls was a wild tangle as she tugged a coverlet around herself, her chill another sign she still had healing left to do.
“I think I know part of why you are so quiet while your thoughts are so very loud.” Tyriel cocked her head, gaze watchful.
“I guess it’s time for those questions,” he muttered. He sat, adjusting his position until his back was braced against the elegantly carved headboard. “Will you come to me?”
Her lips curved in a lovely smile and she came just as he’d asked, throwing one leg over his so she sat astride him. The coverlet started to fall and he caught it, securing it around her before the chill could return. “You’re still weak,” he said quietly.
“Yes.” Her nose wrinkled, her disgust at her state quite clear.
He cupped her cheek. “You survived a monster. That you’re whole and sane at all is a miracle. You can always rebuild your strength. Be kind to yourself…give yourself the time to heal.”
“Since when did you become a speaker of wisdom?” But she smiled as she said it, covering his hand with her own. “I thought you humans had to become graybeards before you started tossing out such sensible advice.”
“That may well be the only useful wisdom I ever impart,” he said solemnly, even as the sight of her smile made his heart clench. “It’s a good thing you didn’t have to wait until I was a graybeard to hear it, considering that it’s likely I’ll live centuries now. The magic…”
He lifted a hand and breathed into it, watched as flames lit there.
And he was acutely aware of the silence within his own mind.
“Irian has long said his power was settling inside your skin.” Tyriel’s eyes were watchful.
“It’s no longer his power, but mine.” He closed his hand around the flames. As they extinguished, he looked back at Tyriel. “He’s gone.”
She drew in a slow breath, but there was no surprise in her eyes. “I thought he might be.”
Aryn placed his hands on her thighs, thumbs stroking restlessly.
“Aryn, about Irian…”
He slanted a look at her, reaching up to press his thumb to her soft mouth. The shadows in her eyes