Immortals After Dark 09 - Pleasure of a Dark Prince

sharply, grinding his hips between her spread legs, groaning as he poured hotly inside her….
    When he collapsed atop her, his heart thundered over hers.
    Still panting, she grasped his face, tugging him to look at her. “Garreth, I’m here.” He’d made love to her. Surely he’d return now! “Come back to me….”
    Instead, he averted his eyes and pulled out from her. Settling on the pallet to sleep, he dragged her to him, tucking her back against his front. Though fatigued from her earlier trials, and now exhausted by his merciless attentions, she lay tense under the weight of his arm.
    While he slumbered, she strove not to cry.
I’ve failed.
She couldn’t bring him back. He would’ve been better off if he had never found her.
    When she carefully slid out from under his arm, he gave a chuffing growl in sleep, but he didn’t wake. Sitting with her back against the cool stone, she gazed up at the ceiling, eyes watering. Her efforts not to cry— and not to give up—continued, but she waged a losing battle.
    She’d just been so certain that Garreth would recognize her, had been so sure that the reason no Lykae came back from this beastly state was that they’d never had a new reason to. Mourned mates never came back from the brink—but she had.
    Yet Garreth lay unaware.
I couldn’t save him.
    She drew him closer, cradling his head in her lap. When he emitted another soft growl, she gazed down at him. His brows were drawn, his eyes darting behind his lids, his muscles jerking in sleep.
    Was he remembering killing her? Would he relive it over and over again?
    She loved him so much. But it hadn’t been enough to bring him back. Lightning struck outside as a tear fell, followed by another and another. She couldn’t stem them, stopped trying to. “I w-want you b-back, Scot,” she murmured as she wept. “I
need
you so much. And I c-couldn’t save you.” Soon she cried too hard to speak, sobbing with her mouth open, lips parted around stammering breaths. Rocking him, her teardrops fell—
    “Lousha?”
he rasped.
    She stilled, every muscle in her body going tense. “G-Garreth?” She stared down at him; her tears had been spilling onto his face, wetting his cheek.
    Now he frowned.
“Canna have you cryin’,”
he vacantly muttered.
    “Just stay with me,” she pleaded, swiping the back of her hand over her face.
    “Want you, Lousha. So much.”
    “I’m h-here!”
    Turning his head, he gazed up, finally meeting her eyes. His irises flickered from blue to gold and back. “My Lousha. Dreamin’ you?”
    “No, y-you’re not dreaming me!”
    He stiffened against her. “What is this?” He sat upright, separating his body from hers, leaving her feelingcold, bereft. “You’re… dead,” he bit out, his eyes tormented.
    “I’m not! I’m safe here with you.” She sidled up to him on the end of the pallet.
    “You’re no’ real.” He ripped at his chest again. “You
died
.”
    She clutched his arm. “Please stop hurting yourself! I’m real, Garreth. I’m here.”
    He reached out to touch her face, yet then he closed his hand in a fist. “Nay, I hurt you… with that sword. I-I…
killed
you.”
    “You did no such thing!” She caressed his wet cheek. “You could never hurt me. Cruach infected you—made you see things. He made you believe you’d harmed me, but you
couldn’t
. The Instinct wouldn’t let you.”
    “How do I know I’m no’ seeing things now?” He shook his head hard. “How do I know I’m no’ still there?”
    She could tell he so desperately wanted to believe. But he would have to doubt his own mind, his own memories. “You’re not there. What you thought happened was nothing more than the trick of an evil god.” She grasped his face. “You’re here with me in Kinevane. Believe this, believe in us.”
    He heard her words as if from a distance, had dreamed that for hours they’d spent their lust together. Harried, aggressive sex over and over. Until this last time, when he’d made love to her.
    And then had come her tears, each drop like a slap, waking him from some murky twilight.
    Now Garreth couldn’t distinguish what was real or illusion. For days, he’d slipped deeper into the abyss, convinced he’d murdered the only woman he’d ever loved—as she’d begged him to spare her life.
    Now he was supposed to believe that Lucia was in his arms, warm and safe. She expected him to accept that the woman he wanted more than life had come here
for