Free Fusion (Crimson Romance) by Candace Sams

backward, toward him. Her slender, tight little body pushed against his frame as if, in her deep slumber, she wanted to meld her form to his. The result of such blending, ever it went unchecked while she was awake, would yield a discharge of energy that could rock the universe. In his gut, he knew that the joining of any other two souls wouldn’t be more powerful. They were living their very last days and that enhanced every emotion. Every single feeling whether one of happiness or sorrow was so much more exaggerated. Every touch, every kiss was more powerful.
    His blood fired.
    Now he felt his body’s acceptance for what had to come. With every fiber of his being, he believed it was no coincidence Lyra Markham had run down that canyon, straight into his life.
    If their end
was
to be — and there was nothing to offer hope for life — he’d throw everything he had into their final days. He’d use their cover to pleasure her so thoroughly that the energy from their union would last forever. A part of his soul and hers would filter into the universe, as his Creator led him to believe. In that way, they’d never really die. They’d never be apart. Their fusion would go on.
    Perhaps the situation was causing him to lose perspective. He’d faced death so many times, but never with such a sense of utter despair. And never with a tempting little enchantress as his partner. He didn’t believe in coincidences. Nothing happened by accident. She stirred in his arms so he took that opportunity to pull her closer.
    “You’re so warm,” she murmured against his chest.
    “As taxed as you seemed, I’m surprised you’re awake,” he said as he nuzzled her hair. “The temperature dropped. I can get more blankets.”
    She barely shook her head, but kept her eyes closed. “No. Don’t move. Please don’t get up, Sol. I-I’d like to have you near.”
    “Sol?” he murmured.
    “That’s what I’m gonna call you,” she softly told him. “It means
sun
.”
    “I know. But I don’t get the reason for the reference other than the rather impudent shortening of a superior’s first name,” he teased.
    She reached out, pulled a portion of his hair forward and said, “It’s because of this … your hair.”
    He knew she was blocking their grave circumstance with mindless chatter. He’d engaged that psychological ploy on a number of occasions. “Its color reminds you of a sun?”
    “It’s bright. Even out here in this half-light. And you remind me of something else,” she told him as she stared into his eyes. “You remind me of a hero in an old Earth legend. His name was Thor.”
    He gently stroked her back while she stretched out against him. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with Earth myths. As to the length of my hair, it’s a tradition. It’s not necessary to wear it this long, but I wanted to hang onto as many of my world’s customs as I could …
while
I could.”
    “I understand. If you don’t think you’ll ever see home again, every detail of your culture seems crucial.” She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Maybe this Aigean person won’t come.”
    “And maybe the Condorians will lay down their arms, ask forgiveness, and we can all go home friends?”
    “I can dream. Even if it’s only for a few more hours.”
    He wrapped his arms around her protectively, and took the opportunity to stroke her hair since she’d touched his so gently. “You’re still very tired.”
    “Not so much,” she advised, and proved it by maneuvering her body on top of his while continuing her steady, deep gaze into his eyes.
    Soldar saw the molten look in her stare and knew what she wanted. Apparently, she’d reconsidered her request to delay sexual contact for their “act.”
    His body responded instantly and he readily opened his mouth for her kiss. This was a custom he knew his race and hers shared. And it had been so very long since he’d felt a tender touch or a woman’s lips. She’d be the last