And then opened my eyes to Hope.
All I saw was her.
My thirst — was for her.
There was no hunger, only a thirst that I knew she could quench, a desperate need to have her.
We had somehow created a mental bond.
The physical had to follow, or we would both die.
“You must reach your full potential.” A familiar voice beckoned.
And if what I’d just seen was prophecy, Bannik would succeed. If I did not take her.
He would.
And just like history repeating itself — a child of the elves would die.
She would die.
The room faded away as I reached for her and mindlessly pulled every inch of clothing from her glorious body. She felt so hot.
Comforting.
She felt perfect.
I fought the urge to claim her without permission — the last thing I needed was her heart stopping.
I’d seen it happen.
Pleasure had the potential to kill — it was why sirens were considered so deadly to humans.
You could die of good.
Just like you could die from the bad.
Odd, how anything in extremes could be your utter destruction.
I held back.
And kissed her.
Then wished someone would have warned me how it would feel — the mating — the claiming.
Then again, if Cassius had warned me, would I have believed him anyway? Waves of pleasure assaulted me until I couldn’t see straight, until there were ten of her, and greedily I wanted all ten of the visions in front of me, I wanted to give endless orgasms, plunder until I was unconscious, until all anyone smelled on her was me.
“Do not die,” I begged, not recognizing the dark pleading in my own voice.
“And if I do?”
“Then all is lost.” I answered before claiming her lips again, tasting the salt of the earth on her tongue as her fingers dug into my biceps.
I distracted her with my kisses, numbing her to the fact that within minutes her life would never be the same.
With each kiss, I drew more and more of her memories into my consciousness.
Her lonely childhood.