Ascension - Book Eight - Man x Man

Chapter 94

"You're talking out of your mind because you're exhausted," I respond gently, he's been doing everything in his power to avoid me, I knew how poorly he slept on his own because I'd gained the same trait. 

With a low growl, deep in his chest, he flips me, pinning me to the bed beneath him as he hoovers over me. Those icy eyes meet my own with an intensity that takes my breath away, I reach up to brush the back of my fingers over his cheek, soothing myself as much as him. I had to erase any memory of the black-eyed Randy attempting to crush the life out of me. 

If I touched him, he was real, he was here.

Verando's gaze flicks to my neck where the dried blood remains from the multiple bite marks. It's enough to give him pause, "Is it you who no longer wants me? You said you feared what I'd become, holding the apocalypse beyond my own soul is a bit of an ask. You look frightened." 

With the deep roll of his tone, the depth of his voice, and the regret of seeing what he'd done to me, it was my turn to growl back, enough to make him smirk at the less-than-intimidating nature. Yet, the amusement didn't touch his eyes, I bear my neck to him in an attempt at going a more playful route.

My wolf was afraid of him, it wouldn't dare show its fangs. 

My favorite look appears, and I brush my thumb over his dimpled cheek. "I will always want you and don't you dare think otherwise. I know that when you're alone, all of that trauma is going to come flooding back and you're not going to feel this way anymore. You're upset with me, but you love me. I'm cautious, my wolf has a healthy respect for you now."

"Then don't leave me alone." He retorts shortly, bending to pass his tongue over the bite mark on my neck, it's an odd feeling to have it knit together so quickly. The warmth of his tongue against the ache of my skin from his fangs soothed the burn. Shuddering, I think of his fangs and attempt to not make a sound of desire at the thought of them so close to my neck. Being bitten was undescribable in the way that it felt, painful, incredible, and possessive. 

I practically will him to take another taste.

Cursing, he swallows back his own desire, brushing his nose against mine as he steadies his breathing. "Gods, what you do to me."

"Speak for yourself. I'm hard as a rock and you haven't even touched me yet." I murmur, searching for his lips with my own, yet he stops me and I know I've reached the rational side of his brain. Hovering his over mine, I flop back onto the bed, hands over my head with my best political face. "This is a poor place to have this discussion."

"Then stop talking."  Attacking my neck, his stubble on my chest as he starts to move down, the thrill of his body pressing to mine. It'd be so easy to let go.

Don't let him. We need to talk.

I curse myself, my ridiculous need to be different, to be healthy as a good role model for our children.

"Randy, stop." I plead, sitting up, gripping his face in my hands to pull him up to me. On his hands and knees before me, he crushes his lips against mine in an attempt to turn me off this discussion. Kissing him, passing my lips against his, his tongue teasing my lower lip, I clench my fingers in silent damnation of myself. 

"I love you," I tell him firmly, waiting for him to sit on his hip before me, irritated and unimpressed with my self-control. "But I need to know we are actually okay."

Setting his jaw, he glares towards the window, forming his thoughts in the serious way a brooding warlord might. As if he were planning battle tactics, or one's death, thoughtful yet menacing. "It didn't matter last night." 

Defeat echoes in his tone, he felt the same way I did. We could step back into each other so simply. It would probably work, but what if he ended up hating me for it? How would I survive without him?