She tips her head, arches her back as my fingers part her slit. I run one up and down, tiny circles against her pussy. Laurel bites her bottom lip, nostrils flaring.
Where are you going to go?As she waited for his reply, her heart beat faster because she hated the idea of him out there in Caldwell, alone—and also because she dreaded the passage of the night. The sooner he found his males, the sooner he would be gone from her.
When Xcor didnt answer, the silence between them was a palpable weight.So Im staying up there during the day, too. She said this even though shed already told him what the plan was. But upon the nightfall I shall return to this house.And I will be here to greet you.
As she exhaled in relief, Xcor put the towel aside and picked up a brush. Starting with the very tips, he continued to tend to her hair, carefully removing the knots.Im going to miss you, she whispered to his bent head.
It seemed utterly incongruous that a male as hardened by war as he could wait upon her like this, that brush so small in his hands, his shoulders so big behind her, his harsh face wearing that impossibly kind expression.
Tis only a day and night. He moved to the crown of her head, seemingly enthralled with the way the black bristles went through her golden hair. We shall be back together before we know it.The bite came after the great roar, those jaws snapping so close to the nape of Assails neck that he cringed down even though it slowed his gait. Too late to save himself, though. Airborne. He went airborne, plucked from the ground in mid-stride—except why wasnt there more pain?
Surely if the beast had gotten him by the shoulders or the torso, he would have been racked with—no, wait, it had him by the jacket. The thing had him by the leather jacket, not the flesh, a band of constriction cutting across his pecs and lifting him by the armpits, his legs flopping, his gun firing as he made fists of his hands. Below him, the landscape tilted like it was on a seesaw, the bolting lessers, the fighting Brothers, the overgrown bushes and trees flipping around him as he was shaken all about.The fucking thing was going to toss him up and gullet him. This back-and-forth nonsense was just tenderizing a meal.
Goddamn him, he was the vampire equivalent of a chicken wing.No time. He let his gun go and went for the zipper at his throat. The shaking motion made his tiny target fast as a mouse, slick as a marble, all needle-in-a-haystack for his trembling hands and slippery, sweaty fingertips.