Pure Destiny (PureDark Ones #12) - Aja James Page 0,46
happen when we get there?”
“Let’s not think about that yet,” she said. “Let’s focus on the journey instead. It’s an adventure, right? Try to take a nap now. You need to be strong to make the most of this expedition.”
She smoothed the soft golden curls from Benji’s brow and channeled a sleepy tranquility into the boy. At least, that’s what she hoped she was doing. Today was the first time she tried to purposely wield the Gift she used to have as Ninti.
It seemed to work, because after Benji ate a packet of nuts and drank half a bottle of water, his big blue eyes fluttered closed and his mouth went soft, relaxed in a little boy pout.
Sophia kissed his forehead and straightened. Took a deep breath as if bracing herself to do battle. And so it was—
The war to regain Dalair’s soul.
She went back to the front of the helo and squeezed by Dalair again to get into her seat. This time, she purposely exaggerated her movements, squeezing her breasts against his shoulder and upper arm, bracing her hand on his rock-hard muscles as if for balance, while her fingers and palm unnecessarily smoothed (groped) down his right side, before she finally sat down.
By the time she was in her seat, Dalair’s breathing came and went in short, agitated bursts, his thick pecs rising and falling in a riveting rhythm. His small, male nipples beaded into pebbles. The smooth muscles of his chest twitching as if he was being shocked by electrical currents.
Sophia couldn’t help staring. Feeling. This physical connection between them was…incredible.
She’d desired him madly as Kira. And since she hit puberty in this incarnation, she’d been helplessly obsessed with him.
No. That wasn’t true. She’d been enthralled by him even before she knew what obsession was.
But since her Awakening—now—her need for him defied description. She felt as if she’d die if she didn’t have him inside her soon.
Inside, above, beneath, and all around. Surrounding her with his heat, his musk, his silk-over-steel maleness. If she couldn’t breathe him like air, drink him like water, devour him like food, then there was no point in living. Existence was a barren wasteland of tasteless, colorless, meaningless dust.
Her own breathing grew just as agitated as his, her pulse thrumming with arousal and awareness of his closeness.
He was her Mate. She yearned for him.
Each person was composed of the soul and the body. Each soul was made of many parts—the heart, the vital essence, the personality, the shadow, the life force, the name, and the mind.
Unbidden, the lessons she learned at the Temple of Neith came back to her.
She’d healed his body with hers, strengthened his life force. She’d invoked his name—Dalair. Her Prince. She’d taken his vital essence inside of her, just as she’d given him Sustenance in return. Their minds were connected now, though she couldn’t hear his thoughts the way he seemed to hear hers. The burst of rage he indulged in minutes ago showed that his emotions were rekindling.
She never had trouble making him well and truly frustrated, Sophia thought wryly. At least, not in this incarnation. As a teenager, she often picked fights with him just to push his boundaries. He was usually unflappable, but sometimes…she might be an awful person for rejoicing in the ways she could always push his buttons.
And his shadow, the darkness within each person, that was always present. The only thing missing was his heart.
His beautiful, tortured, broken heart.
It was time she picked up the pieces and cherished it the way she always wanted to. The way she was born to do.
Even Destiny couldn’t stop her now.
Sophia settled back in her seat and casually walked her fingers across the narrow divider that separated them, wrapping the sensitive digits around his thick wrist while funneling a feeling of calm sluggishness into his being, forcing him to relax by slow degrees when his body automatically tensed at her touch.
His right hand jerked once, twice, as his body and mind fought her inducement. His nostrils flared with the strain. But ultimately, he didn’t remove her hand from his wrist. He didn’t tell her to stop.
Chemicals, poisons and vampire venom didn’t work on him. No foreign substance did. But her Gift affected him. If she’d known about this ability, she’d have done it sooner. But better late than never.
And so she began:
No matter how much I tell you about my desperate love for you, you never believe me, isn’t that right, Dalair?