Page 61 of His Eternal Temptation

“Need more.” Rowan sounded floaty, miles away from whatever dream had hold of him. Bright and needy and perfect.

He lit a fire in Lane’s soul.

Lane slicked his own cock and slipped it between Rowan’s ass cheeks, sliding along his crease and nudging behind his balls.

“Yes,” Rowan panted. “Fuck me.”

Lane pulled Rowan’s hips back and pushed forward, stroking Rowan’s cock as he buried his face in the crook of his neck. “Tell me you’re needy.”

Rowan whimpered.

“Tell me,” Lane ordered.

Rowan squirmed, thrusting into Lane’s hand. “I’m…I’m so needy, Lane. Desperate. Please. Don’t let go.” His words were heavy with emotion, tone downright addictive.

“Why would I let you go when you’re fucking perfect like this?”

Rowan came on a moan, lithe body arching. Lane worked him through it, resisting the urge to speed up his thrusts. He took his time, cock sliding between Rowan’s cheeks, savoring each little whimper Rowan gave him.

Lane tipped Rowan’s head and claimed his mouth. When he finally found his release, he swore nothing existed but them, together, and he had a feeling Rowan would have said the same.

When Lane woke the next morning, dread seemed to seep into the room alongside the sun. What if they couldn’t get a handle on this situation? Not the curse, not the ferals, not the Hillmans. He wished things were different. Calmer. Then he and Rowan could focus on each other.

If Rowan wanted to. He’d opened up more than Lane ever hoped, but how could they figure out where this growing trust took them while caught in the curse’s clutches? They needed the option of walking away from each other before they could choose to be together. Otherwise, this might all be a coping mechanism, and once it was no longer necessary, they’d have nothing left.

Thoughts swirling, Lane took care of his morning routine, and when he emerged from the bathroom, he was greeted by Rowan’s familiar stony expression.

He was in coven leader mode.

“Has something happened?” Lane asked.

“Nicole thinks they can finally break the curse.”

Lane’s heart skipped. Please let her be right. “Let’s go.”

He couldn’t read Rowan at all as they crossed the hall. A few days ago, Lane would have been frustrated by Rowan’s serious, unemotional side, not realizing it was how he found strength and readied himself to take control. It was what he needed to protect those around him, and Lane loved his quiet strength as much as he loved the Rowan who needed softness and reassurance.

Loved? Lane’s mind stumbled over the word. Was he falling that hard? He couldn’t think deeply about it now. Not until the curse was gone.

Nicole, Vera, and Hunter met them in Rowan’s office, leaving the clinic for Emile. Hunter had stayed all night, keeping an eye on Emile’s progress.

“How is he?” Rowan asked him.

“Healing. Emile’s heart is beating again. He’s on some heavy potions to keep him sedated, but he’ll recover in time.”

“Until then, I’m keeping the casino closed except for coven gatherings, since it’s on the same floor as the clinic.” Rowan frowned. “I don’t like how close the Hillman witch came to Emile, even if he wasn’t after him.”

The Hillmans couldn’t have known about Emile’s weakened state, and the second intruder didn’t seem to have been targeting the clinic. He’d bypassed it and been found in the stairwell, but caution was best while everything was up in the air.

Lane still had no idea what the Hillmans had been searching for, Rowan either, as far as Lane knew.

“Right,” Nicole said, gathering their attention. “I believe our problem is the curse’s inherent need to feed to completion. That’s why halting the feeding cycle didn’t work. Until the curse kills what it’s latched onto, it can’t be stopped completely.”

Lane’s stomach dropped, and he collapsed into the couch, the leather cold and slippery beneath him. “So it’s incurable?”

“No.” Both witches shook their heads vehemently. “We need to give it something else to feed on,” Vera explained.

Rowan’s neutral expression turned wary. “Like what?”