Page 75 of Crimson Moon Falling

Conall stared down at me. “You’ll have to expose yourself for us to use it.”

“I know.” I swallowed.

“Fucking hell,” Parker muttered. “I’ll go get your shit. I can’t stay here and not yell.”

Conall walked out and came back with a glass of water. “Drink.”

I drank, hoping my stomach would keep it down. When I’d finished, he took the glass and set it aside.

“You need to get clean.”

He was right. I had dried blood under my fingernails, and dried sweat coating my skin. Conall helped me undress with careful efficiency as the clawfoot tub filled.

A small whimper escaped as he set me in the steaming tub, and the hot water soaked my aching body. Conall knelt beside me, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and washed and conditioned my hair with methodical tenderness. His fingers worked through the tangles, massaging my scalp and making my eyelids heavy.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, “what it does to me when Parker calls and says you’re bleeding and unconscious.”

“I have some idea.” I reached for his hand. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

His thumb traced the inside of my wrist, and the bond purred. “But you’re not sorry you went alone and didn’t tell me.” I didn’t want to lie to him, so I kept my mouth shut.

He carefully scrubbed me clean and helped me out, wrapping a towel around me. When he tucked me back into bed, he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Sleep. I’ll be here.”

I did sleep, deep and dreamless this time, and woke to a dark room. Conall sat in the armchair by the window, reading something on his phone, the light catching the angles of his face.

He looked up when I stirred. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better.” I sat up and moved my neck. “My little friend has been busy.”

“Little friend?”

“The implant and I are starting to figure a few things out. It’s aware and separate, but we’re learning to live in the same body.”

Conall blinked. “When we get to a place where we’re not working in crisis mode, you and I need to have a long talk.” He set the phone down and sat on the edge of the bed, one hand resting on my stomach. “How’s the head?”

“It’s good.” The throbbing had subsided to a dull, manageable ache. My little device steadily pulsed, back to its efficient baseline after it’d figured out how to relieve the pressure in my skull. The whole process both disturbed me and left me grateful.

He walked over and set his phone down on the nightstand, then leaned over me, his hands on each side of my head.

“Drew is still processing the strands, then he needs to double-check the Database. He says we’ll have something by morning.”

My fingers curled around his forearms. “God, I hope I’m right.”

He leaned in and ran his lips over my collarbone. “You scared me. I want to fuck you, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m feeling better. Come here.” He came, his mouth finding mine in the dim light. The kiss was nothing like his careful tenderness when he bathed me. It was hungry and desperate. His teeth caught my lower lip, and his hand tangled in my damp hair. Frustration and anger still simmered in him, but beneath it, possessive lust raged.

The implant struggled to categorize the emotions flooding my system. Dopamine and oxytocin crashed against its attempts to maintain order. I mentally pushed back and told the thing that sex was healthy and a good way to release emotions. The cold receded, and Conall’s scent and taste settled my mind.

We made love in the near-dark, his mouth skimming my shoulders, then trailing down to my breasts. I arched against his hot mouth, panting in the dark. His body moved against mine, controlled at first. When my nails curled into his shoulders, he thrust into me, speeding up as I wrapped a leg around his waist to feel him deeper.

His hands were everywhere. My hips, my breasts, tangled in my hair. Each touch carried a frustrated tenderness.

He pulled out and rolled me over, then drew up my hips and mounted me from behind, reaching around to stroke me as he pistoned inside. His wolf reveled in this position, and Conall’s own lust spiked. My breath stuttered as his pleasure rolled through me, and when he worked my center, I came with a soft cry. Tiny strands of pure energy swirled around us, sharp desire hitting us both, triggering his own orgasm a few strokes later. His knot swelled and caught me, sending me headlong into another high.

Long minutes later, our breathing evened out as his knot receded. He gathered me against his chest, my head tucked under his chin, his heartbeat steady against my ear.