Page 78 of Her Unending Horizon

Specifically the choice to turn it off.

The whine had been keeping me awake. Then—because I am apparently a masochist—I couldn’t fall asleep without the whine. Because I was a fucking mess.

At four o’clock in the morning, I surrendered. I threw off the covers and stalked into the bathroom, flicking on the light like it had personally offended me.

My reflection stared back with Zarek stamped all over it. My hair smelled like him. My skin smelled like him. Even my hands smelled like him, because of course they did.

I needed to shower. A rational adult would shower.

Unfortunately, I was not that kind of adult at the moment.

I pressed my forehead to the mirror. “Of course this is where we’re at,” I muttered. “Needy to the nth degree.”

I went back to my bedroom and sank down into my bed, closed my eyes and pictured Zarek’s passionate smile.

Dammit!

I pulled my phone off my nightstand. 4:08 AM. Great, I’d manage to while away eight minutes.

Too early to call Zoe. Too early to call Maddie. Too early to call Trenda, and definitely too early to call Evie or Piper, who were three hours behind me on the West coast. Aiden would find a creative and violent way to get rid of my body if I woke up his two boys and pregnant wife. And Piper was still too young to handle the shit I was going through.

Which left me one option. Work.

I padded out to my drafting table and clicked on my lamp. The pool of warm light hit my boards, my pens, the clean page that had been mocking me for three days.

It was time.

The fandom had been frothing at the mouth for this arc for over a year. Edith was frothing at the mouth, and had basically pushed me into a corner. Even mild-mannered Max, Edith’s assistant publicist who almost never meddled had raised an eyebrow at the last planning call. Yep, I had crossed the line into temperamental artist.

Fine.

Good.

If they wanted something, I’d deliver.

I planted my ass down in my chair and wiggled until I was sitting in just the right spot. Then I cracked my knuckles.

“Okay, you two. Time for sex. No making love for y’all. Nope, you get hot, sweaty, angry sex.”

Yep, this was the ticket. They’d been fighting the Kor armies, fighting the Wizard’s manipulations, fighting the very people they were trying to save. They were exhausted, frayed, and one wrong word away from shattering.

Angry sex would be cathartic. Primal. Explosive. A storyline payoff worthy of their arc.

I cracked my knuckles again. This time wincing.

I bent over and started. My pencil flew across the board, thumbnails coming to life. Nothing explicit—this was manga, not HBO—but the mood, the momentum, the intent. It started with a ravaging kiss. A push against a wall. Armor coming off. Need trumping logic.

Then…

Dammit!

Seris tugged at Kael’s ruined armor and he pulled it off. Underneath he was bruised and battered, dried blood at the collar, a welt blooming across his ribs. Her eyes glossed over with concern.

No! No! No! No!

We were not doing tenderness.

Kael cupped her jaw in his gloved hand, his expression softening. “You need to rest,” he murmured. “I’ll take first watch.”