Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,56

How utterly marvelous.

Just when he felt he could absorb no more, the pleasure escalated, expanding in exquisitely precise increments, each thrust of his cock bringing him closer to nirvana.

As Moe reached the most astonishing climax of his life, a high-pitched cry signaled Klara’s own orgasm. Seconds later, she seemed to fold inward, taking him with her.

Where there had once been two, only one being remained, existing as two halves of one whole. Nothing could part them now. Wherever she went, he would go with her gladly—even into death.

For what good was life without one’s mate?

Chapter 15

As a ball of warmth formed in her lower back, Klara knew this episode was different from the last. Something within her had changed at such a basic level she knew she would never be quite the same again. Moreover, she wished they’d done this the night before rather than in the morning so she could go back to sleep. Even her bones felt as though they were melting. The heat moved steadily outward, unfurling like a flower to spread throughout her entire body. She closed her eyes against the brightness of the morning sun, allowing herself to drift on a tide of what she could only call—

Joy.

That line about giving her “joy unlike any you have ever known” was spot-on. What she couldn’t figure out was why this was so much better than the oral sex. Sure, it was physically different, but was the chemical reaction different as well? Then again, there was nothing quite like getting the full treatment. She almost wished she had another experience with which to compare it, although she couldn’t imagine that anything could possibly be any better.

A kiss placed lightly on her brow made her open her eyes, but the light still seemed too bright for some reason.

“Good,” he whispered. “I haven’t missed it. So incredibly beautiful…”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice vibrated with her purr, robbing her tone of the slightest hint of irascibility.

“Your eyes. You should see them. They’re like, wow.”

Shielding her eyes with an unsteady hand, she attempted to look up at him, but she might as well have been trying to look at the sun. A quick glance was all she could stand. “Speaking of my eyes…what’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing,” he replied. His gaze never wavered. “Your pupils will constrict eventually, but right now, they’re huge.”

“Another side effect of snard?”

He nodded. “One of the cooler effects. At least, from the male’s perspective. I don’t think mine do that.”

She stole another peek at his dark orbs with their glowing vertical pupils. “They look the same as always. Maybe a little brighter, but that could be my dilated pupils talking.”

“Possibly.” With a tiny grin, he dipped his head and kissed her—meltingly sweet, and on the mouth this time—before rolling off her. The shocking loss of his warmth came as a surprise; she’d endured worse losses at the hands of Nedwuts, but this was singular in its impact. “So, ready to start a revolution?”

“I’m too sleepy to get up, much less start a revolution,” she replied. “You might have to start it without me.”

He shook his head slowly. “Not gonna happen, sweetheart. You’re the spark of the rebellion, remember?”

“I haven’t forgotten that—or the part about leading it.” She bit her lip, hesitating. “All I’ve ever done with my gang is try to keep them alive and reasonably healthy. To lead a large population is…” She stopped, unable to find the right words to describe the heavy weight of responsibility such a role would entail.

“A daunting task?” he suggested.

“Yeah. That.”

“I think your main job will be holding them back. I mean, they’ve been patient for a long time. Your spark is liable to create an unstoppable inferno.”

“So if I say something like the time has come, they won’t need me anymore?”

“Could be. In fact, you may have already done the most significant part of the job simply by showing up.”

Klara couldn’t help but laugh. “If only the rest of it were that easy.”

“It might be easier than you think. More akin to falling off a log than summoning the courage to lead an army into battle.” He paused. “Not that it won’t require some courage.”

She gasped with dismay as his meaning became clear. “You aren’t suggesting what I think you’re suggesting. Are you?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “Been giving this some thought. They need a goal. Not so much someone to fight against, but someone to fight for. Something more tangible than an ideology.”

“But if we die in the