“Well?” she said. “You staying?”

“I can sleep somewhere else,” he said despondently.

And was amazed when Kett, her gaze dropping, said, “No, you can stay here.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Kicking away his clothes, he slid in beside her and managed not to say a single word when she curled into his arms and fell asleep with her head on his chest.

He left you to die. He told his men to beat and starve you. He cheated on you-he thinks he cheated on you-and never said a word about it.

And yet Kett still wanted him. She’d always known she was pretty screwed up, but this was just ridiculous.

How was it possible she still wanted to be here with him? That she was deriving so much comfort just from the proximity of his body? When her cheating ex had been revealed for the slimy bucket of maggots he really was, she hadn’t once wished for the comfort of his arms to make everything all right again.

Maybe, said an insidious little voice inside her, it’s because he actually is your mate.

Bollocks, she told it.

So why are you lying with your head on his chest? Naked?

She was half-asleep, or thought she was at any rate. When she opened her eyes to see white sand and a black sky, she realized she was dreaming.

Either that or she’d developed an interesting new talent for sleepwalking hundreds of miles.

A man stood by the shore of an inky sea, its waves breaking gently on his bare feet. He was naked, his skin kissed by moonlight. His black hair ruffled in the slight breeze. His back was sculpted muscle, but Kett saw a glimpse of an ugly wound there.

She stepped closer and the wound was gone.

Her body moved easily, not hindered by pain or injury. Score one for dreams.

“How’s the water?” she asked.

“Deep,” he replied.

Great, another cryptic dream. “Bael?”

He turned then and was suddenly right in front of her, arms around her, his skin cool but his body hard, strong.

“I missed you,” he breathed, and kissed her, another slow, melting kiss like he’d given her earlier in the evening. The sort of kiss that reminded her why she’d let him follow her across the Realms, why she’d put up with his bullshit about mates, why she’d felt so bad about tricking him. Why she’d reacted the way she had when he fell off the roof, unconscious and broken.

“It’s just sex,” she said, and he frowned.

“It’s never just sex,” he said. “Not with you and me.” His fingers curled in her hair. “It’s more than that. Don’t you feel it?”

The thing was, she did, and it terrified her. “I don’t need anything more,” she insisted. “I never did, and I still don’t. Just sex.”

That was a lie and she knew it, and she half expected him to fade away, slip under the waves or just shoot her in the head, but he stayed right where he was, holding her against him. And Kett hated herself for the admission, but she felt safe there.

“If sex is all you want, then that’s what we’ll do,” he said, and kissed her again, his hands roaming her back. Cupping her buttocks, he pulled her hips against his and she felt the strength of his erection, hot and hard against her stomach. His body was so strong, almost invincible. Kett had never wanted anyone to take care of her…

(Except sometimes, in the deepest, darkest hours of the night, when she was bone-tired, her body aching after her latest confrontation and her mind numb with loneliness.)

…but it felt nice to be held all the same.

She found herself lying on the soft sand-softer than sand had ever been in her own experience-her body cradling Bael’s as he kissed her, wave after wave of beautiful kisses. And while her body responded, felt every lick of his agile tongue, every sweep of his clever fingers, she seemed to be floating above the beach, watching him make love to her.

None of this makes sense.

Was she becoming one of those women who fell in love with abusive men? Kett had known some absolute stinkers in her time, but no one had ever locked her in a cell and left her to rot.

But then, he did rescue her.

Eventually.

“Kett,” Bael murmured, and then she was back in her own body, lying under him, feeling his weight on her. He was warmer now, skin heating up as he got more energetic. The rough hairs on his chest tickled her sensitized breasts.

“Where did you go?” he asked, nuzzling her neck, her ear.

“None of this makes sense,” she said.

“What doesn’t? I want you, you want me, ergo, we have lots of explosive sex. It makes perfect sense.”

“Yes, I want you,” Kett said, “but I don’t actually like you.”

He lifted his head, his eyes very green in the moonlight. “I like you,” he said. “I like everything about you, Kett Almet.”

His voice shone with such honesty it almost embarrassed her. “Everything?” she asked. “Bael, I’m angry and rude, I swear at you all the time, I kept the biggest, most important things from you-”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“I’m a bitter, scarred freak of nature,” she said, “whose closest friends are sociopaths and lunatics.”

Bael gave a crooked smile. “Those are precisely the things I like about you,” he said.

Kett gave up. “You’re very weird.”

He kissed her nose. “Yes, I am. Now, I was trying to make love to you. If you’re done with the self-loathing, may I continue?”

That brought a smile from her, and she threaded her fingers in his hair to bring him down and kiss him. He bit gently on her lower lip then licked it, and Kett felt her body arch against him involuntarily, her breasts flattening against his chest and her hips rising off the ground.

Bael’s hand traced over her collarbone, her shoulder, her arm, then swept across to her breast. He stroked her, every caress making her shiver until she couldn’t take it anymore and thrust her nipple against his palm. He smiled against her mouth, rolling the sensitive nub between his finger and thumb and making her writhe.

“I love it when you do that,” he breathed. “I love the way you react.” Dipping his head, he kissed her breast, which elicited a small moan from Kett. “You’re so responsive. I could make love to you forever.”

“No complaints here,” Kett gasped as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. “Sweet merciful gods, Bael!”

He laughed against her breast and continued to suckle her, his hand sweeping down her left side, cupping the arch of her hipbone as if memorizing it. With his other hand he wrapped her right leg around his waist, opening her to him, pressing her wet flesh against his hard stomach.

“Do you want me?” he asked, fingers edging round her hips to stroke the soft, responsive skin of her inner thighs.

“You know I do.”

“Say it. Tell me.”

“I want you, Bael.”

He transferred his attentions to her other breast, leaving the first wet and sensitive to the cool air. “Tell me what you want.”

“Pretty much what you’re doing,” she moaned.

“A little more specific,” he laughed.

“I want you to stop arsing around teasing me and get your hands between my legs,” she snapped.

That made Bael laugh even more. He slid one hand between her legs and cupped her pussy-but didn’t do anything else.

“That’s not fair!” wailed Kett, who had never knowingly wailed before in her life.

“It’s what you asked for.”

“Bastard,” she said, and slid her own hand between them to cover his. Using her own fingers, she guided his between her folds, almost moaning with the bliss of being touched. She was slippery wet, puffy and swollen, desperate for relief, and she moved his index finger to her clit.

With her other hand she grabbed a handful of his hair and lifted his head.

“I want you to stroke me,” she said in his ear.

Bael smiled, a slow, melting smile that made Kett’s pulse kick up. “My pleasure,” he said, doing just that. “Believe me, my pleasure.”