Free The Fall by Christie Meierz Page B

Something in her relaxed. “I love you,” she whispered, and lowered her guard.
    He pulled her close against his chest. They remained wrapped in each other’s arms for she didn’t know how long, their senses swirling against each other, radiance filling the air, until… until something that separated them dissolved.
    Closer. She needed to get closer. Her skin tingled, and suddenly the Paran covered her mouth with his, urgent and demanding. She pressed against him, skin against skin. Hands stroking, mouths sealed, she straddled his lap, their bodies locked, the ancient rhythm carrying them. Pressure built.
    At the still point on the brink of ecstasy, she could see the way.
    Reflex, instinct, compulsion drove her. She reached out, wrapping her senses around his heart. At the same time, his wrapped in a layer around hers and sank in. The world shifted. She was inside him inside her, feeling him feel her. Her body—his body—she couldn’t distinguish between them. They convulsed into rapture, each crash of ecstasy lifting the next to a higher peak, together.
    Awareness returned, finally. The radiance dimmed. Ragged breaths puffed on her face. She opened her eyes to meet an ebony gaze filled with wonder.
    “Beloved,” he whispered.
    She leaned her forehead against his cheek, chest still heaving. His emotions streamed through her. Comforting. Real. She lowered her head to his shoulder and closed her eyes, diving into the flow from his heart.
    His arms tightened. Nuzzling his neck, she watched him marvel at her, then slid out of his lap to lie back on the blankets. After a moment, he flopped onto his back beside her. She found her voice and whispered, “No wonder no one has words for this.”
    He didn’t reply to that, but a sense of agreement filled her. His fingertips found her hand and drew lazy circles on her upturned palm. She shifted closer, molding herself against him. The circling stopped, and his fingers laced through hers. Warmth flowed through him, toward her. She planted a kiss on his shoulder. A gentle smile curved his lips, and a pulse went through him. Her core throbbed in response. His smile deepened.
    “I can’t keep anything at all from you now, can I?” she said.
    “It would seem not.” His eyes crinkled.
    She grinned. “Want to do that again?”
    * * *
    Laura floated in a sea of contentment, her body thrumming with energy. In the two days since they’d closed the door behind them, she hadn’t slept at all, and neither had the Paran. They ate, and they talked, and they bonded, while outside their quarters, the stronghold’s routine continued. Most of the staff slept now, except for the night shift of guards and a few servants moving about.
    The Paran lay on his stomach beside her, propped up on his elbows, reminiscing about his boyhood. The sound of his voice caressed her ears and riveted her attention.
    “We were born in the same season, the Brial and I,” he said, “and we met as small children, while his father served as ambassador for Brialar. Our nurses took us to the beach to play while his father and my mother negotiated trade agreements.”
    “And you got in trouble together, I imagine.”
    The Paran grinned and flipped onto his back. “Of course. The Brial loved to trick his nurse.”
    “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”
    “I did not say otherwise. However, he never lost his delight in such things. In truth, it makes him a more cunning negotiator.”
    “Can’t trick the trickster.”
    “Indeed.”
    They fell silent, and her attention shifted to the presences in the stronghold. She could feel them.
    All of them.
    She set her senses free to roam down the corridors of the massive keep. After several heartbeats, he whispered, “Where are you?”
    “In the kitchens,” she murmured.
    “You are remarkable.”
    She snorted at him and carried on with her exploration, roaming through the staff wing, following the empathic resonances that outlined every object in the stronghold. Most