Trace lay slack, his body warm, loose, and flying, even as the ghost of his childhood memories evaporated into ether.
He had finally opened up to Micah, and like a sinner confessing his crimes, a weight lifted off his soul. Guilt still resided in his heart, but the self-oppression no longer dragged him to the bottom of the ocean like a cinder block chained to his ankle, and the ache behind his sternum was gone.
Breathing more easily than he had in a long time, he became aware that something was lying on top of him. No, someone. A body draped crossways over his torso.
He peeled his eyelids open, lifted his head, and sucked in a pleasantly surprised inhale.
Cordray was slung over him like a blanket. Her long, partially braided hair lay like silken, ebony spider webs on his skin. Her full breasts pressed against his stomach.
She was the reason he was so calm. The reason his chest no longer ached. Not even a shadow of the pain he’d experienced for hours remained.
She’d taken his pain away.
Just by touching him.
His beast had completely receded . . . because of her.
He laid his head back on the wood between his arms, which were still stretched over his head. Quiet tranquility wrapped around him. He was a lily pad floating on a pond, the sun warming him from above, the water cooling him from below.
Totally Zen.
Micah was nearby. Trace could feel him. But wherever he was, it didn’t feel like he had the energy to do much more than lay there. Kind of like him. Kind of like Cordray.
He grinned. It felt as though the three of them had experienced a giant, explosive three-way orgasm. One that had completely drained them, leaving them flaccid.
The fantasy would have been perfect had Cordray not twitched against him just then. A moment later, her shoulders shuddered, and she made a quiet, breathless noise that sounded like a sob.
Wait. What?
Was Cordray crying?
He had never seen Cordray cry.
“C?” he said quietly. “Are you okay?” A week ago, he wouldn’t have cared. He would have been infuriated that her tears might be pity. Pity for him.
But something had changed between him and Cordray. He did care. And he could see that she did, too, even if she had an odd way of showing it.
At the sound of his voice, Cordray bolted upright, dashing her fingers under her eyes, collecting herself and looking away before turning back toward him, keeping her gaze averted. “I’m fine.”
God, but she was more beautiful than usual with tears glistening in her eyes, making her irises shimmer like sapphires in the moonlight.
She was like the apple in the Garden of Eden, so tempting, yet so deadly. The combination made his balls tingle.
“Come here,” he said, hardly daring to breathe for fear of scaring her away.
She hesitated then slowly glided up his body as if mesmerized.
If only he could touch her. He yearned to push his fingers into her hair and hold her against him.
Her tears glistened like diamonds. Like stars. He wanted to catch them in his palm and bring them to his lips. Taste them. Savor their salty essence.
She drew closer, her face only inches from his, her gaze locked on his mouth.
Yes, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel her tongue slide over his. He had never wanted anything more.
He closed his eyes, lifted his head, held his breath.
And then Cordray jerked to a halt.
“What am I doing?” she said, as if to herself.
He opened his eyes to find her staring at him like she’d just caught herself buttering moldy bread.
She reared back. “I can’t do this.”
The about-face caught him off guard. It also pissed him off. “Why are you fighting this?” He tugged against the chains still securing him to the table. Anger at her rejection spiked in his blood.
She pushed off of him, leaving cold emptiness in her place. “I’m not fighting anything.”
“The hell you aren’t.”
“Don’t you dare presume to know me, Trace.” She spun around, and all that glorious hair fanned out like silk on the wind.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.” She stopped at the door and flashed him a pained glance over her shoulder. “I’ll petition King Bain tomorrow to terminate your community service at Asylum. You’re free, Trace.”
With that, she blew out of the room like a sharp gust.
Free?
She was letting him go?
What the hell was this shit? She couldn’t let him go.
Staring blindly up at the ceiling, his heart aching, he felt more like a prisoner now than ever. Because how could he be free when he wasn’t with her?