He lifted his head, pressed his mouth to her ear, pushed, gently, until he just barely entered her. She groaned. Her hands found his ass, tugged, tried to pull him in deeper, but he held back.
“Then was happened?” he whispered in her ear.
“You made love to me.”
“No, thea. I loved you. Open your eyes.”
Her dark lashes lifted, and her shimmering violet eyes focused on his. Eyes he wanted to lose himself in forever. Eyes that told him even if she never felt the same way about him, opening himself to her and his humanity was not a mistake.
“I loved you then, Callia. I knew that night in the meadow. When the rain fell around us. When you came apart in my arms. Only I didn’t tell you because I was afraid it would push you away. That it was too soon. That you didn’t feel the same. I thought…” Emotions closed his throat, but he gritted his teeth, knew he had to get this out. “I thought I had all the time in the world to make you fall in love with me. I was wrong. If I could go back and change one thing about the past it would be that.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, and he lowered to his elbows, used his fingers to brush the wetness away from her cheek. Felt the last shred of his resistance melt away. “If I could go back, I’d tell you that I loved you. And it’s not because you’re my soul mate. If the Fates had pushed me toward someone else, I’d still have loved you.”
“Zander.” She closed her eyes tight, pulled his mouth to hers, lifted her hips and drew him in to her silky heat.
Their joining was slow and sultry. Not the frantic coupling of before, but deeper, hotter, a thousand times more intense. As he moved inside her, he threaded his fingers through hers, watched her face, kissed her lips, her nose, her cheeks, couldn’t tear his eyes away as her pleasure mounted. He’d thought he was condemned to spending eternity without his heart, and here it was, beating inside him all over again. In her.
She moaned his name, arched her back. Her slick channel tightened around him, signaling her release was coming. He drove harder, pushed deeper, strained to give her what she needed. And when she peaked, when her body contracted with her release, he went with her. Let go of the battle he’d been fighting inside himself for so long. And finally turned everything over to her.
Max’s legs burned. His lungs were on fire. He darted around and through trees, twisted his ankle on a root sticking out of the ground but kept running. Behind him he heard the daemons closing in, but he didn’t turn to see how close they were. Knew if he saw them…
He hit a patch of ice and slid, arms darting out to the side to steady himself. Just before he went down, he slammed into the base of a tree. Pain shot through his torso and legs. He grabbed on and pulled himself up.
A growl echoed at his back.
Swallowing a gulp of frigid air, he pushed off the tree and tore off to his right, sliding down a snow-covered slope on his hands and butt toward what looked like a logging road below.
He slipped and slid to his side, righted himself with his arms, desperate for any way he could get to the bottom. A rush of water met his ears. If he could get to that stream and jump in, it could carry him away from this horror. He might freeze, but at least he wouldn’t be lunch.
Heart pumping, he hit the bottom of the hill, jolted his legs. Above, thrashing and roars echoed in the trees. He scrambled to his feet and ran as hard as he could toward what he hoped was a big, swirling river.
Just as he reached the far side of the logging road, a daemon dropped in his path.
He tried to stop, lost his balance, fell back to smack his head against the hard frozen ground. Stars flashed in front of his eyes. He cried out in pain, but the face above scared the sound out of him.
Phrice. Only he was a helluva lot bigger than the last time Max had seen him, and way more powerful.
“That’s right,” Phrice said, leaning down. “I’m your own worst nightmare.”
Max scrambled backward. Phrice was the archdaemon?
Panic and fear wedged their way into Max’s chest. He crab-walked backward until he ran into a boot. Horror shook his body, made him lift his head. Dripping fangs and glowing green eyes peered down at him.
Phrice caught Max by the scruff of his shirt and lifted him high in the air.
Max yelped, kicked his legs. Claws punctured his shirt and dug into his skin. Pain shot through his torso.
“You’ve been a bad boy, Maximus. What should we do with him?” Phrice asked the other daemon.
“I can think of a few things,” the second daemon said.
“So can I.” Phrice pulled Max so close, the daemon’s vile stench filled Max’s nose and throat, causing him to gag. “Before this night is over, boy, you’re going to wish you’d never been born.”
Tears burned Max’s eyes as he struggled. His humanity hadn’t saved him like that old woman had implied it would, but he hoped at least it had saved Jeb. “Just make it fast,” he whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek.
Phrice laughed. “That I can’t guarantee.” He hefted Max over his shoulder and stomped off into the trees with the other daemon on his heels. “Your fate is in Atalanta’s hands now.”
Chapter Twenty
Callia’s heart felt like it might sprout wings and fly right out of her skin. As Zander lowered his head to her chest and drew in deep, shattering breaths, she thought it just might.
Her body still trembled from the most delicious orgasm; her mind raced with the things he’d told her. In her heart she wanted to believe that even after everything that had happened between them, they might have a future to look forward to.
“Zander,” Callia said gently, running her hands through his hair. “We have to get up.”
“We will,” he mumbled against her neck. “When I can move again.”
Warmth trickled through her when she thought of the reason his body wasn’t working. When she remembered what they’d done. How it had felt. How she wanted to do it all over again. Her muscles instinctively tightened around that glorious part of him still buried deep inside her, and he groaned in response.
“That’s one way to get me moving again.”
She smiled because yeah, sex had never been a problem for them. But even she knew this time it wasn’t just about sex. It was more. She felt it, even if she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
Her smile faded. The real world and their multitude of problems beckoned.
The truth closed in around her, splintering the fantasy she’d been building. Their son was still missing. They’d wasted precious time here, making love, when they should have been searching for him. And to top it off, Isadora—Callia’s half-sister and Zander’s fiancée—was downstairs right this minute, probably wondering what the hell was going on in this very room.
She pushed gently against his shoulders. “I have to get up, Zander. I need to take a shower.”
Slowly, he moved up onto his hands. When he lifted his head, his eyes were sleepy, his hair mussed. And though it made no sense, something about him looked…different. Calmer. More at peace than she’d ever seen him. “Trying to wash me off already?”
She stared at him, tried to pinpoint what it was that had changed in the last few minutes, but couldn’t. They’d made love numerous times before, and yeah, sex relaxed him. But not like this. This was…something else.
When his brow furrowed, she gave herself a mental shake, refocused and slipped out from beneath him. “No, I’m just remembering why I came to the human realm in the first place.”
He rolled to his side to watch her, perched his elbow on the bed and his head on his hand. “How did you get here, anyway?”