Pure Destiny (PureDark Ones #12) - Aja James Page 0,86

wasn’t his. Maybe the Goddess was right. Maybe Destiny was a cruel, heartless bitch.

But he was hers. She’d chosen him. Destiny could go fuck herself if she disagreed.

He would never let her go again. Not even death could stand in his way.

He grasped her jaw and turned her head around to take her mouth in a voluptuous kiss, before pouring his hot seed into her hungry core one more time.

Dalair locked his jaw against a ravaging groan as he broke apart for her. His heart thundering and thrashing between them, filling his body with exultant pleasure and sweet pain as he emptied himself, poured every last drop of life and love into her.

He’d never given her the words, he was well aware. He’d never told her that he loved her. She said them freely, passionately, and he even believed her.

But he would always love her more. There were no words in any language that could convey what he felt for her. So he showed her with his body, through his actions, and prayed that she understood.

At last, he settled behind her, cocooning her totally. His body vibrated with both exhaustion and an endless supply of strength. Throbbed with soreness from both his residual wounds and hours upon hours of release.

But he was almost fully healed, he knew. By daylight, he would be as good as new. Perhaps even stronger than before.

Their Mating…the Claiming… had healed him. In every way.

First, she began the process with the joining of their bodies back at the Shield. Then, the melding of their minds in the helicopter. And now, their souls. Inextricably entwined.

He was Reawakened.

Dalair gathered Sophia as close as he could, finally stilling within and around her, letting sleep overtake him. They would need all of their strength for the road ahead. He could feel it.

Their enemies were closing in.

*** *** *** ***

Sophia snuggled deeper into the protective cocoon wrapped all around her. The hot brand throbbing inside her, filling her with peace and contentment, feeding her never ending hunger.

She needed his strength, his unconditional, infinite love. For the memories of Before assailed her subconscious mind, peeling back the scabs over old, forgotten wounds.

Leaving them raw and bloody, pulsing with ominous portent…

Third millennium BC. Capital City of Akkad. Sometime before the Great War.

It was just another day like any other.

Or so Titi thought.

Papa was chasing her in his leopard cub form round and round their humble hut, Titi squealing with delight and laughter whenever the kitten pounced, full of throaty growls and rumbling purrs.

Mama was inside making supper, one of Papa’s favorite lamb stews and Titi’s least favorite—beetroot salad.

Mama always made the food Papa liked best. Titi caught on pretty quickly that Papa sometimes pretended to like foods Titi liked just so Mama would make them.

It was their little secret. One of many. Conveyed across the worn wood table through winks and mischievous grins.

Titi loved Papa lots and lots. And he loved her so much she never really felt the lack of affection from Mama. It would have been nice if Mama loved her too.

Perhaps she did, in her own quiet, solemn way. But Titi never saw demonstrations or heard word of it. Mama was very “reserved,” Papa always said.

Even so, that didn’t prevent Titi from feeling Mama’s love for Papa. It was a visceral thing. A little frightening, if Titi was honest. Suffocating.

But Papa didn’t seem to mind.

Just when Papa rounded the corner from the back garden to surprise Titi from behind, back in his Pure One form, the sound of approaching hoofbeats and grinding wheels made both of them pause in their antics.

Four black-robed warriors astride four identical black stallions led the unmarked caravan that trundled down the dirt road near their hut.

It was one of two roads that wound from the nearby village to the bustling city that surrounded the Ivory Palace, but few travelers and merchants used this road. It was narrow and filled with ruts and stones. Many a horse had lost its shoe, and many a wagon had stuck its wheel in this unpaved, backwoods path.

Titi had certainly never seen anything as fine as the caravan that was passing through. The horses looked like they walked on air; their riders, moving as one with their steeds. Big chests puffed out, backs straight, shoulders broad.

Papa swung Titi into his arms, setting her on his hip.

This surprised her, because Mama didn’t like it when he held her like a baby any more. She always admonished that he was coddling her,