Serpent's Kiss (Elder Races #3)(61)

It was such a gentle, nurturing moment and so completely devastating. She turned her face away from his caressing mouth when she wanted nothing more than to lean against him and soak up everything, his scent and his presence, his easy confident affection, that silent roar of Power that continually filled him, that eternal, elemental column of creation’s flame.

All that time she had worked in the acquisition of Power. All that time she had been ruled by ambition. All those centuries that she had lived in such a vast yet fleeting journey, and here he was holding everything she had reached for, not striving, not continually learning to be better, not fighting to acquire any of it. He just was, the mysterious, magical rune, the riddle of a creature that nature decreed should not be able to exist, and yet he did.

She stiffened her spine, bracing herself against the moment. She tried to stiffen her knees and stand on her own, and after a moment she managed to do it. She fought to stop the cascading emotion, to reassert her control, and somehow she found a way to do it.

Then she happened to look down.

Rune was still cuddling her dog in the crook of his arm.

The wild feeling surged back, higher and more devastating than before, and she—the woman who had bargained with demons and stared down monsters, who had counseled pharaohs and created kings, who had once looked into dust-filled shadows of her empty, partially constructed tomb and said no, I will not go there—she broke down and fled.

Rune’s body went into a clench as he looked after Carling’s slender, escaping figure, his eyes narrowed. He took in deep draughts of the cool night air, fighting his instinct to give chase. After a few moments, he followed at a slower pace.

His battle was hard-won, because all of his instincts were roaring to go after her. He wanted to drag her to the ground, tear off that god-awful wretched caftan and spear into her naked body. He wanted to watch her face as she climaxed with him inside of her; he wanted to climax as he watched her beautiful face. He felt immense, full up to bursting and hard as a rock. His erection strained against the zipper of his jeans, and he had nearly come from just the touch of her hands sliding across his chest, from that broken needy little groan Carling—Carling—had made against his mouth.

And the way her eyes had turned that pretty, scary ruby red when he had been hurt was just f**king adorable. He wished he’d seen her fangs descend too. They probably didn’t do that anymore, since she no longer fed on physical nourishment.

But it was kind of a major clue when a lady ran away from a bloke.

That said something, it did. That was a signpost that read: approach with caution. Falling rock up ahead. Handle with care. You’ve come so far with her, much further than you ever thought you’d get. Don’t f**king blow it now, son.

That signpost was one of the busiest he had ever laid eyes on. It had a hell of a lot of text. He figured pausing to read all of that was a good thing.

He hitched Rasputin up higher on his chest and stroked the dog’s soft fur. This was probably the quietest Rune would ever see him.

“I’ve eaten critters that were so much bigger and badass than you are,” he said to the dog. Then he listened to the silence. He sighed and patted Rasputin’s warm little body, and strode forward to meet Carling on the beach.

She was standing at the edge of the shore, holding herself by the elbows and looking over the water. She had packed all the bags in the waterproof container. She looked so beautiful, lonely and defensive, Rune’s heart melted and his c**k grew hard, and hells bells, if that wasn’t enough to confuse a bloke, he didn’t know what was.

He weighed his options and decided to stop just a few feet away, not too far but not close enough to spook her either. Then he turned to look over the water too as he tried to figure out if he had any other options available. Further action on his part seemed undesirable at the moment, because he wasn’t at all sure what might make Carling run away again.

So he stood and waited, and he tried to hide how greedy he was as he breathed deep to catch snatches of her scent on the wind. And he wanted with all of his might to go put his arms around her and hold her, just f**king hold her, just rest his head on her shapely, slender shoulder and feel her arms slide around his waist as she hugged him, but that goddamn signpost was busily ticker-taping more text. Now it read: not yet, son. You can’t go there yet. So he petted the dog, and did nothing.

Finally Carling turned. She gave Rune a confused glance. She didn’t feel capable of figuring him out at the moment. The clean lines of his profile, with the bold cheekbones, strong nose and lean jaw, were clearly outlined against the churning foam of the sea. He looked so patient and calm, so completely at odds with the tumultuous mess that was churning inside of her. He looked as if he was prepared to stand there and wait forever for whatever it was he wanted.

Instead of facing him, she turned to face inland. She looked up at the dark sprawl of her crazy-gothic house and wondered if she would ever see it again. She felt a pang and let it go, and it was another release.

She glanced back at Rune. “Ready?” she asked.

She watched him take a deep breath and nod. “Yep,” he said. He turned to her. “You?”

After all Rhoswen’s melodrama, all the internal crash of Carling’s turmoil, and it came to this. Yep. She suddenly found herself smiling and nodded.

He strolled over, and there it was. There was the snapshot she wanted to take of him and keep forever, that easygoing way he had of moving his big body, the intent expression in his eyes as he looked at her that was so much at odds with the deceptive sleepiness on his handsome face, and she realized that sleepy, relaxed look of his was when he was on the prowl and at his most dangerous.