Page 100 of Dark Destiny: A New Thread in the Tapestry

Yaaf felt the change and drew back just far enough to look at her face.

"What happened?"

She wanted to deny that anything had, but that wouldn't get them anywhere. They were both damaged, they were both battling their demons, and if they didn't talk to each other, everything would fall apart. Yaaf needed to know how she felt, and she needed to know how he did too.

"I can't do this if they're here with us," she whispered. "I need to know that they retreated." She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, but she faced him anyway. "I had a dream about you. A long time ago on the island. It was the first erotic dream I ever had, and it was about you. The way you were looking at me in that dream made me feel special, safe, and I wanted you, but then they came and stood around the bed in the dark, watching. The wonderful dream turned into a nightmare, and I woke up screaming, or I would have, if your hand hadn't been over my mouth."

"I know." Yaaf closed his eyes. "I was there."

She stared at him. "What do you mean you were there? In my room? I know that you were. You stopped me from screaming my head off."

He shook his head. "I walked into your room to wake you up, and you were dreaming so loudly, and I wasn't prepared for it, so I wasn't blocking anything. I was sucked into your dream, and before I understood what was happening and had a chance to raise my shields, the others were privy to what I saw. We don't always notice everything each of us does or feels, but when the feelings are so strong, they have no choice but to notice, and your dream ignited a bonfire." He opened his eyes, and there was old shame in them. "I pulled them out as fast as I could. I sealed it just before the good part turned bad. But I was the reason it turned bad. I let them in. I'm sorry."

Somehow, that made it easier, not harder, because she didn't need to explain. He'd witnessed it. He knew what had happened.

She let out a breath. "So they know. They saw it."

"They saw nothing. They felt the heat, but I shut the door before the dream turned into a horror show." He took both her hands. "They will never see anything that you don't want them to see. I'm much better at this now than I was then. I can keep them out. We've been practicing, and we've all gotten better at it, so it wouldn't be just me blocking. It would also be them retreating behind the wall. They know how much you mean to me, and they respect that what's between us belongs to you and me alone."

He held her gaze. "But I won't tell you they'll feel nothing. That would be a lie. They'll know I'm happy. They'll feel it the way you feel music through a wall. You can be aware that someone somewhere is playing something, but you won't be able to distinguish the notes. They won't see you, or hear you, or feel your skin, or know a single thing that happens in this room." He lifted their joined hands to his lips and brushed them over her knuckles. "If anything more slips through, I will stop, and I will tell you the instant it happens. I promised you that once, and I'm promising it again."

Music through a wall. Echoes of feelings. Not a movie playing on a screen and showcasing every detail. She could live with that.

"Okay." She nodded. "Put your shields up and kiss me again."

"They are up already." His eyes flared, the blue turning luminous from within, and he kissed her again.

This time it didn't stay gentle, and she didn't want it to. She'd wanted this, chosen this, walked toward it with her eyes open, and the fact that she wanted him so much was its own miracle. Her body craved it instead of bracing against it.

But then his hand slid up her side and cupped her breast through her dress, and her body betrayed her.

She flinched.

She couldn't control it. It'd come from a place in her mind that had learned a long time ago that a man's hand meant a thing was about to be done to her whether she willed it or not, and it wasn't going to feel good or even tolerable. It would have to be endured.

Survived.

Yaaf stilled, then dropped his hand to her hip. "You're in charge, Sullha," he said quietly, against her mouth. "Nothing happens that you don't invite. If you want my hands somewhere, put them there. If you want them gone, take them away. We have the whole night, and I could spend all of it just kissing you and count it the best night of my life."

She believed him, and that was what broke through, the thing that dissolved the bracing. She believed that he would spend the night kissing her and be happy with that, and because she believed it, the dread loosened its grip, and what rose up underneath it was warm and getting warmer.

She rose to her feet, took his hand, and tugged him up. "We'll be more comfortable on the bed.

Where she found the courage to pull her dress over her head and toss it to the floor, she didn't know. Perhaps it was his promise that nothing she didn't want would happen. She wasn't wearing a bra because she didn't need one, and the way he looked at her was exactly the same as it was in the dream before it became a nightmare, as though she were something precious and improbable, a thing he could not believe he was allowed to hold.

The love in his face was so plain it hurt.

He removed his shirt, tossing it over her dress, and he laid her gently on the bed. When he came over her and braced on his arms, a part of her waited for the dark to fill with faces, for seven shapes to gather at the edges of the bed, and for the warmth to curdle, but they didn't come.

There was only him. His weight and his warmth and his glowing eyes and the low sounds he made against her throat.

Sullha felt safe.

Her body belonged to her, and for the first time in her life, she was offering herself because she wanted to and not because she was forced to surrender.

"You are so incredibly beautiful, Sullha," he whispered against her throat, and then he began to move down her body, kissing as he went, and she didn't know what he intended to do.

No one had ever done that in bed with her.