Free Imperial ((Imperial) Web of Hearts and Souls) by Jamie Magee Page B

upon for eons to come.”
    When his lips feverishly claimed mine, it was hard for me to tell if he agreed or not. I was sick of holding back, fighting the rush his soul gave mine. I reached my arms around his shoulders just after the coat I was wearing found its way off my body.
    Hungrily, my hands moved across his shoulders, his chest, letting the scent of fresh cut roses course from my being. As he returned that essence to me all the more powerfully, we were basking in the sweet aroma of a feverous rush.
    We were quenching an undying thirst for one another.
    My flesh was aching for him. I felt starved for this. The bliss was near painful. There was so much emotion in every movement of our embrace that I felt my soul quake.
    Before I could even gasp, we were lying across a bed that had manifested in this room. Surrounded by silence and candlelight, we explored what belonged to each of us.
    Every girl remembers her first, the first soul that seized every emotion within her…the one that took her precious innocence and replaced it with an emotion that changed everything she knew about the world around her.
    With time, those girls become women, and they embrace their last with a force that has grown with time and experience. Vade and I were each other’s first, last, only, and knowing that—knowing that the rush between us was so sacred that it could never be shared with another—was more than empowering. It was a regal sensation that we had never once taken advantage of. At least we would not take advantage of that in this moment.
    Gradually, with care, the clothes that bound our bodies were released. Skin-to-skin, soul-to-soul; that was our destination. But we had waited too long for this moment to be anything but slow and deliberate. Once a new part of our bodies was exposed, we took the time to kiss the warm skin sensually that was hidden before. I could tell it was killing him to hold back, to be tender, that his embrace was just as greedy as mine. It was painful, but I have never felt such a glorious aching in my life.
    Passion is called a fever for a reason. The heat comes from within—the craving is unmistakable. It burns. A divine pain that most would kill to feel endlessly. Your very being is on fire, and it craves the one that created that heat. It fights to get closer to that source, yet at the same time it caresses and calls gently to its other. For if the pure fever were released suddenly, it would nearly destroy the souls. It was just that powerful. An addictive, potent lust.
    I sighed as his lips moved across my skin, which was no longer translucent, but now glowing against the candlelight. As I felt his powerful hands embrace my flesh, the ache in his every movement dared me to believe that he feared I was a dream, an illusion his mind had created to appease him.
    They call it a rush for a reason, too. A rush is felt in moments like this for almost any soul, but once an Escort claims a rush they feel this emotion near constantly, most definitely when they are in the presence of the one who created such an emotion.
    Escorts are in tune with emotions, to every movement of the vessel. Naturally, they know exactly what to say, where to touch, where to caress, and where to kiss to bring forth an even more intense fever. The goal is to pull as much passion as the other soul can give—which is near infinite.
    The soul’s essence rushes to the skin, to the waiting vessel of our other. Once that energy is connected, every movement and every touch is electrified to a point where breath and thought are near impossible. A rush is defined and produced when souls are connected. True rushes, rushes that are everlasting, are felt long before the first touch; they are felt at first glance.
    The power that an Escort gives its adored is unmatched by any other race. A regal fever accompanied by a rush would last through several moonrises. It is intense and consuming. And if we had any sense at all, we would never leave this