“You called me.”

She put her hand upon her lower belly. “Wrath …?”

“Yes, mahmen.” The young focused on the door with eyes that seemed ancient. “Are you going to cross unto the Fade?”

“I have no choice.”

“Untrue.”

“I am dying.”

“You do not have to.”

“I am losing the fight.”

“Drink. Drink of what is in your mouth.”

“I cannot. I cannot swallow.”

The cadence of their words was increasing, faster and faster, as if he knew she was running out of time … and by extension, he was, too.

Those eyes of his, such a pale green … and there was something strange about them. The pupils were too small.

“I cannot drink,” she repeated. Dearest Virgin Scribe, her mind was muddled beyond measure.

“Follow me and you will be able to.”

“How?”

He held out his hand to her. “Come with me. I shall take you back home, and then you will drink.”

She looked to the door. There was a pull to it, a draw that made her want to reach out and complete the cycle that had started as soon as she had fainted unto the floor.

But what she felt toward her son was stronger.

Turning away, she gave the portal her back. “Return me to your father?”

“Yes. Back to him and to me.”

Walking forward, she clasped the warm palm of her son instead of the knob of the door, and lead her on he did, escorting her out of the white fog, away from the death that had come for her, toward …

“Wrath?” she whispered into the darkness that claimed them both.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. I did not want to go.”

“I know, mahmen. And someday, you will repay me thus.”

“I will?”

“Yes. And all shall be well—”

She didn’t hear the rest of what he said: Just as a suction had pulled her under, a sudden explosion propelled her outward, the push hitting every part of her at the same moment. And then a great wind hit her in the face, stripping her hair back, rendering her breathless.

Anha knew not where she would end.

All she could do was pray that what had come to her was in fact her progeny … and not some demon to mislead her. The only thing worse than not going back would be to be cheated of an eternity with those whom she loved …

“Wrath!” she screamed into the maelstrom. “Wraaaaaaaaaaath…!”

Trez knew that none of this should be happening.

Not the way he’d taken Selena’s throat instead of her wrist. Not that crazy-ass shit on the bed. And really, totally not the fact that she was laid out on the fur rug, her breasts bare to his eyes, her sex ready for the taking, her scent all about the aroused.

“Take me,” she said in the sexiest voice he had ever heard. “Teach me…”

Her stare was dead to marks on his, and on some level, he didn’t understand. She’d turned him down before, and then … now she wanted him?

Who cares. His erection throbbed. Who cares! Take her! She wants us!

Us. Like there were two parts of him. And actually, that wasn’t as moronic as it sounded. His cock was, in fact, talking on its own at this point.

“Selena,” he groaned. “Are you sure? I get any more of you, anywhere … and I’m not going to be able to stop.”

Hell, he was barely holding on to this pause.

She reached her hand out and ran it up his forearm, stroking him. “Yes.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he heard himself say.

Shut up! Sit down!

Great, now he was channeling Howard Stern’s father.

“Selena, I’m not … worthy of this.”

“I want you. And that makes you worthy.”

I told you not to be stupid, you moron.

Yup, that was defo Ben Stern.

Trez closed his lids and swayed, thinking it seemed a goddamn cruel twist of fate to be offered this tonight.

“Please,” she said.

Aw, fuck. Like he was going to say no to her?

When he opened his eyes again, he didn’t know how he was going to get them both through the sex in one piece. It was the worst possible moment to open this can of worms, but he wasn’t going to turn away from her: He was raw in places he didn’t like to acknowledge even to himself, and this was going to be a Band-Aid, something that was going to help him.

Even though only temporarily.

And at least he could do his damnedest to make it good for her.

Moving up on Selena, he braced his arms on either side of her undulating body and slowly, inexorably brought his mouth down until it was barely a millimeter above hers.

“No going back,” he growled.

She linked her arms behind his neck. “No regrets.”

Fair enough.

To seal the deal, he kissed her, brushing his mouth against hers, plying at her until she opened herself on her own. His tongue had already penetrated into her sex—but only by a degree. Hell, he’d shocked himself with that licking. Now? There was no holding back. He extended himself into her fully, fusing his mouth to hers, tilting his head to the side as he drew against her lips.

It was the strangest dichotomy. He was so ready to take her, prepared to split her legs wide and drive into that hot, wet place between her thighs—and yeah, he wanted to mark her internally with his come, leave his scent all over her inside and out, make it so no male dared to touch her, look at her.

Yet he had all the time in the world for this kissing.

Then again, she was sweet as ice wine, smooth as double-batch bourbon, heady as port. And he was drunk before he even lifted his head for a breath.

But he wasn’t going to stay forever. There was another place he wanted to get back to.

As he kissed his way down to her neck, he regretted the raw marks he’d left at her vein, and brushed them with his lips, once, twice.

“I’m sorry,” he said, roughly.

“Whatever for?”

He had to reclose his eyes as that husky voice of hers penetrated his haze—and promptly sexed him up even more. What had she asked … oh, yeah.

“I shouldn’t have been so rough.”

“Well, I didn’t mind being held down. At all.”

Annnnnnnnnnd didn’t that get him seeing double.

“Are you going to return to where you were?” she asked.

Fuck yeah. “Yes … right now. If you want—”

The undulation of her body and that moan was the best “I do” he’d ever heard.

Trying to keep a lid on his inner beast, he kissed his way over to her collarbone and then had to pull back and just look at her. Her breasts were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen: She was perfectly built, her nipples tight on top of the pale swells, her skin smooth, her breathing a taunt to his self-control.

He was as careful as he had been with her mouth.

Extending his tongue, he licked a circle around her nipple—and going by the way her hands speared into his hair, she approved.

“Oh…” she groaned.

He smiled before he sucked her in. Nursing at her, he eased onto his side and swept a hand down to her waist, her hip, her thigh … her inner thigh.

She gave way for him like water, her body loose and trusting as he suckled and inched his touch higher, and higher. He was almost at her core, and planning exactly where to stroke her when—

An image of a human invaded the space between his ears.

At first, he couldn’t figure out what the fuck his brain had coughed up … but then he recognized the random woman as one he’d nailed in the back of a car over a year ago. And the clarity was a killer. He saw everything in HD, the lipstick smeared on her front teeth, the mascara smudges under her eyes, her botched boob job where one of her nipples was wall-eyed.

But none of that was the worst part.

No, the worst was the way her head moved up and back, up and back—because he was inside of her. His cock was in her sex, going in and out, the rhythm growing faster so that he could come and be done with the session.