Page 56 of Edge of Stars

I slide one hand up to her cheek. Stretch my fingers out toward her hairline for the sole purpose of keeping her head in place—and her huge, breathtaking eyes right where they should be. Commanding my fortitude—and calling to my cock—in every way that I need. Every degree that I crave. Every inch that matters.

“That, Mrs. Kane, is the most exceptional idea you’ve ever had.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

KARA

The orgasms on the kitchen counter were amazing—but half the intensity of what Maximus gave me on the stairs. And then on the couch, in front of the wall-sized aquarium-that-isn’t.

He’s passed out cold to sleep now, his head against a pile of decorative pillows with his dark-gold hair spread against the couch’s bigger cushions. I’ve long forgotten where he ditched his dress shirt and underwear, and I’m far beyond caring. With one leg splayed straight and the other bent to keep his foot secure on the floor, he’s almost like a model posing for a Renaissance artiste: a glorious proxy for Adam in a garden or David asleep with his lions, characters used as excuses for some kinky guy with a paintbrush.

The things I’d like to do to him with my own paintbrush…

I hug my knees to my chest in order to stifle a small laugh. Who needs a paintbrush?

I only wish it was so easy to giggle about my new nightmares.

But they haunt me even when I’m awake. To the point that even now, in the throes of exhaustion, I don’t dare go to sleep.

Like that’s helping.

I can still envision the storm. I remember how cold and afraid it made me. How I couldn’t stop shivering despite my gown being completely dry. In my dream, it was restored to all its original and gorgeous detail, and I walked so regally down the aisle in it.

But around me, there wasn’t soaring music and smiling faces. The air was consumed slanting rain and flying debris. I felt like a doll, able to watch the chaos, but only from a detached glass shelf.

Until they appeared.

Like they do right now, occupying every shadow of my imagination.

Mother, Kell, Jaden, and a huge crowd behind them.

But it’s not really them now, either. They’re only forms, identifiable solely from the characteristics of their wide, accusing eyes. The black oil that covers the rest of their forms…it wipes out everything else, including their limbs and their mouths. They can’t push their way free or even scream for help.

And yet they do.

They take over my head. Invade my heart. Torment my soul. The misery in their moans. The desperation in their shouts. The terror in their throats.

Why did you leave us here, Kara?

Where did you go, Kara?

What have you done, Kara?

I curl up tighter. Smash my hands over my ears, silently begging the air itself for any help. But the chaos in my psyche rages on as if the villa’s been scooped up by the Wicked Witch’s hurricane and plunked on an airport runway.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

But it all keeps blaring. Their screams gain more layers.

Where are you, Kara?

Why have you abandoned us, Kara?

What-what-what have you done, Kara?

“My best!”

I sob-sough it into the night from the second my escape onto the patio is final. The double glass doors nick shut behind me, bringing a second’s worth of comfort.