In bed, the usually stoic male had come alive. He’d been at times wild, playful at others, but his ferocity had never lessened. Barely banked power had remained evident in his every move. He’d been a warrior gripped by an irresistible battle heat, desperate for relief only she could give him.
Sometimes he’d pinned her wings, making her as weak as a mortal. And yet she’d never felt stronger. One of the most powerful beings in the universe had trembled for her.
I’m not falling anymore. I’ve already gone splat.
The guy warmed her from the inside out. With him, a needing always overpowered her, but she never failed to recover. His intensity thrilled her. Those earth-shaking orgasms? Perfection. She was keeping him, and that was that.
In the most secret parts of her heart, a part of Ophelia had always dreamed of finding her man. But nothing could have prepared her for Halo. The strongest, fiercest brute in town. Sure, they had their problems, but come on! She had only just started fighting for him. He didn’t stand a chance...right?
She worried her bottom lip as she lifted her arm into a beam of sunlight that streamed through the bedroom window. No big deal, she refused to panic, but there was still no tell-tale sheen of glitter.
Maybe he needed to trust her again first? Possibly?
Her stomach churned. Okay, so, maybe she experienced a little panic. What if she wasn’t Halo’s gravita? He yearned for her in ways he’d never yearned for another, yes, but that meant nothing without stardust.
You are not my gravita.
“I was led to believe my nymph possessed more stamina.” He rolled them to their sides, so that they faced each other. He was grinning, none of his earlier resignation in sight, and it was devastating.
He looked more relaxed than...ever. Almost boyish. His eyes—she gasped. They’d flooded with black, pinpricks of light scattered throughout, one streaking across the expanse like a falling star. What she saw in their depths...
Had the Tin Man gone and gotten himself a heart?
I can’t be alone in this. “Halo?” she asked shyly.
“Yes, Ophelia.”
“I really am sorry I caused you so much hurt. And I really did—and do—have the best intentions. I know I can defeat Erebus.”
Well. There went his relaxation. He tossed her to her back and rose over her again, pinning her with his weight. Resting a hand on her throat, where she usually wore the trinite collar, he shackled her arms over her head with the other.
Why, why, why did she like this dominant side of him? “You will not give up your quest for strength, despite my feelings on the matter.” He glared at her. “Will you?”
“No.” Please understand. “I have to do what I think is right.”
“As do I.” He searched her gaze. It wasn’t anger he projected but frustration. “After a second’s worth of careful consideration, I’ve decided I won’t trap you here, or put you in hibernation. If you influence the final labor, as the Commander believes, your cooperation is needed regardless of your motives.”
Wait. “You won’t stop me?” she asked, hopeful. “Do you trust me again?”
“Trust you? No. But I’m confident you told the truth about your involvement. For now, that is enough. We will continue as before, navigating each day and labor as they come.”
Enough. The word echoed in her mind. She didn’t want good enough. She wanted everything. The best. Which meant it was time to harpy-up and own her feelings. No more caving to fear. No more running. This was the fight of her life, remember?
“Admit it,” she said with a little smile. “The sex changed everything.”
He snorted, then kissed her brow and rolled to her side once again. “It might have changed some things.”
Would he cop to the next part? “Do you at least suspect I’m your gravita, Halo?”
“You are mine, Elia.” He soured a hand over his face. “That, I cannot doubt any longer. I’m certain I will produce the stardust for you at some point. It’s only a matter of when. The reason it comes must be different for every Astra, just as the females are different.”
His words should have overjoyed her. But hidden fears read between the lines and provided a translation: You aren’t good enough for immediate stardust, Ophelia. Stardust will come only when my instincts consider you worthy.
No. No, no, no. She wasn’t doing that, wasn’t going there. They were making progress. Being grown-ups and talking openly with each other. Sharing stuff. He’d forgiven her for her mistakes (mostly). She’d forgiven him for his. They had agreed to work together (kind of). The beasts were under control, and her confidence was rock solid (nearly). Life was good.
Drawing her over his chest, encouraging her to mold against him, he said, “Never want to be without this again.”
“Well, then.” Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, she replied, “You’ll need my cooperation, won’t you?” She kissed the pulse at the base of his neck, where his alevala napped, everyone’s eyes closed. A sign of Halo’s own inner peace? “Good news, Immortal. My cooperation can be bought. Today’s price is information.” Her curiosity about him had reached new heights. “Tell me about your favorite battle.”