There and Back Again

Chapter 135: Apparent Anger

And he responded, moaning and writhing underneath me, arching his back and gasping for breath under my relentless assault. He let me set the pace, take what I needed, even though I could feel his erection pressing against my belly, his hands fisted in the sheets to stop himself from grabbing at me and taking over. I could practically taste his yearning for completion.

When I finally tackled his soft sleeping trousers, I heard him mutter praise to the Maker as he scrambled to help me get him naked. I gave the length of him one long, languorous lick and a firm suck, and then I was crouched above him, lining him up with my needy channel, sinking down to take him in with a strangled groan. I was so wet, so desperate, that I took him to the hilt in one smooth slide, both of us crying out at the fulfillment of being joined.

I waited there for a moment, allowing my fluttering sheath to become accustomed to the intrusion, and finally he could take no more. He sat up, pressing his chest to my sensitive breasts, one hand immediately tangling into my curls as he dragged my face to his for a soul-shattering kiss, the other hand squeezing my hip hard enough that I knew he'd leave bruises – and then he started to move me.

I lifted my hips and slammed down onto him, matching the rhythm he demanded from me, rubbing my pebbled nipples against his chest as he plundered my mouth. I felt taken, possessed, but also so powerful, knowing I could bring this man to such heights of desperation. I had control, if I wanted it. Instead, I surrendered to him as he had to me, and we moved together instinctively, climbing toward our peaks together. I raked my nails across his back, sobbing as I felt the resulting surge of his hips under me, and then I was screaming and falling as my orgasm overtook me. I barely noticed when his rhythm suffered as he spilled inside me, as overwhelmed by white-hot pleasure as I was.

Sated, my overtaxed mind finally returning to me, I lay sprawled bonelessly across his chest, his softening length still inside me. I took a deep cleansing breath as he finally slipped out of me, rolling to one side and wrapping his arms around me protectively.

"You're real." It wasn't really a question; the hallucinations I'd had, while confusing, had lacked the scent, the feel of my husband, and the overwhelming warmth of the taint running through his veins. I'd been too disoriented to notice at first, but it was more than obvious once I had my brain engaged.

"Last I checked," Alistair responded; I could hear the amusement in his voice. "I am a little bit disturbed by what we just did if you weren't sure." I giggled, and he chuckled softly. "So are you, for the record – real, I mean, though I wasn't sure for a while either."

His humour gave way to anxiety, and I finally lifted my head out of the comfortable spot it rested in to look at his beautiful face. "Did I disappear?"

He frowned. "You...flickered. Briefly. Less than a minute, I'd say. Maker's hairy arse, Sierra, what happened to you?" His tone sounded so frightened, so desperate, I wanted nothing but to hold him until the fear subsided.

I thought over my ordeal, wondering where to even start, when a few of the more horrific details I'd apparently been repressing made themselves known again. "Avanna," I gasped, tears gathering in my eyes. "Faren!" The tears began to overflow, and I buried my face back in his neck.

"Avanna?" He sounded confused. "That soldier?"

"We have to find her. I swore to myself I'd find her, that I wouldn't leave her like that..."

"Sierra, Avanna's safe. Faren...well, he's here. He's unconscious, but he's alive. We need to talk about that, but it's going to be okay."

I couldn't even respond. Avanna, not a Broodmother? Faren, alive? I wriggled, trying to sink further into Alistair, flailing and grabbing at him until he wrapped me in a bone-creaking embrace, holding me close as I finally let loose and wailed, letting go of all the fear, the guilt, the mind-numbing exhaustion and defeat.