Page 194 of Remnants: Disruption
“You are so perfect,” she whispers into my ears, my consciousness fading quickly from an orgasm that took everything. “So lovely.”
“All yours?” I ask, somewhat dully, catching up with the conversation.
“If you will have me, my love,” she says, kissing my neck and the spot below my ear.
“Yes, please,” I say as sleep takes my brain.
Chapter 67
Interlude IV
Morning After
The two newcomers had arrived about the time of the First Disruption. One had been dark as night itself. The other like an angel. The latter had judged, and the former was the judgement.
Journal of Ivan Castor, 340 A.D.
Arya’s body is soft against mine. Her skin no longer bears the sheen of sweat from last night’s activities. And yet, despite the sweat, the musk, and her mussed silver hair, she’s perfection.
She is everything.
And it only now occurs to me that I almost let the Prophecy push me away from her. I almost let the idea of her importance outweigh the possibility of her being my match—my other.
The Seers had made it so clear that Arya was the key to this puzzle. They had said she was the one who would bring forth the new age. The new era. And I can’t find it in me to put that pressure on her. Not yet.
Not when she’s bearing so much.
Aaron had said she was a natural leader—that the assaults on Old Chicago had been put down with embarrassing ease. That she was brutal in her efficiency.
And I had dared to question her. Had dared to act as if I would not do the very same thing.
I press a tentative kiss to the curve of her ear, and she nuzzles closer. Her backside wiggles against my front and I feel another flush of heat at the contact.
“You’re awake?” she asks in a deep, sleepy voice. The timbre rumbles against my chest and unlocks the further depths of my heart this woman will eventually sink into.
“I do not often sleep,” I whisper, kissing her neck more roughly. “Not when I am fully fed.”
She’s quiet for a moment before wriggling further into me, like she can’t get enough contact.
“Sunlight?” she asks, and I grin a little against her neck.
“Painful, but not deadly. Weakens my abilities in human form. Sanguine form is unfazed.”
“Garlic?”
“Delicious.”
“Mind control?”
This time my breathing hitches. I hadn’t expected her to ask about that—nor for that to be one of the many stereotypes she’d know of. But, of course, Arya is well-read. She’d have to be with the amnesia.
“Cass?” she whispers, but before I can answer, she turns in my arms.
Her breath warms against my jaw, silver eyes staring up at me inquisitively.
My jaw hurts from the clench and I fear I might have pricked my own lip with the incisors.
“Baby,” she breaths, pressing a sweet kiss to my mouth. “I didn’t—”
