Between Tides Thunder(101)

Lightning flashes again, its threat flaring behind closed lids.

The distant rumble of voices. Of shouting. One of them is Father.

A loud cry—then, silence. The metallic stench of death.

It was my father.

Father.

Rough hands yank me from the closet.

A strangled gasp tears from my throat.

I can’t breathe. My lungs expand and contract, but something is wrong, something is horribly wrong. I can’t get enough air.

I try again, panting and gasping and wheezing—

Zev mutters a string of low curses behind me.

A soft rustling, and then his arm slings over my waist, tugging me flush against his chest.

My eyes fly open.

I’m in the tent. With him. Not in the closet. Not that night.

“Wh—what are you doing?” I rasp.

“Distracting you.” His voice is hard, but his hand is gentle as it skims over my belly. “Lift your head.”

I obey, and he nestles his other arm beneath me, my temple resting on his bicep. His firm chest presses against my back, his breath hot on my neck.

I should push him away. I should hate him. But the warmth of his body and the desperate need to feel safe consumes me. It obliterates any thought of protest.

Thunder booms again, and I jolt. Zev tightens his grip, pulling me back harder against him. His hand splays over my abdomen, his body taut with tension. Ragged exhales flutter the loose strands of my hair.

Lightning flashes, bright and angry.

Another humiliating, panicked yelp wrenches from my lips.

My eyes burn with tears.

Slowly, his hand begins to move. His fingers are hesitant as they inch higher, skating over my ribs, pausing just before the curve of my breasts.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice is rough, like he’s swallowed sand.

The storm melts away, and my focus sharpens on him.

Only him.

I remain completely still, afraid that if I move, if I speak, if I breathe, he’ll stop touching me. His long, graceful fingers edge higher, and then he’s cupping me in his large hand.

“Tell me to stop, Mayah,” he repeats desperately, even as his hand squeezes gently.

I can’t remember the last time he said my name.

My low, needy moan hums through the air. I arch back harder against him. His hand climbs higher, leaving a searing trail along the column of my throat. He traces my parted lips with the tip of his index finger, and it’s all I can do to stay still in his arms.

Desire coils low in my belly, tight and hungry, and I need more.

But I’m afraid to push him, to break this fragile moment.

Zev is tense behind me, each breath a soft pant. His hand skates back down over my chest, my abdomen, dipping just beneath the waistband of my leggings.

“Mayah.” His voice is gravel, and I want to roll in it, in him, until every rough, jagged edge scrapes my skin raw. “Mayah, tell me to stop.” His hands shake, like he’s battling something inside himself.

A keening whine escapes my parted lips, and I grind my ass against him. His hand delves beneath the waistband, and then he’s between my thighs. We both groan at the same time as his fingers swipe through slick wetness.

I can’t breathe.

He works his skillful fingers, quickly bringing me to the edge. His breath is hot against my ear, his body a wall of muscle at my back.

“Zev,” I whimper, biting my lip. I’m close, I’m so close, but I can’t fall over that edge.

The distant rumble of thunder.

Almost.

Lightning crashing into water.

Just—

Zev’s eyes, knifing me with hatred.

His fingers speed up, and I moan, loud and desperate. Close, close, so close. Not close enough.

I need—

What if—

Does he still—

“Stop thinking, baby,” he murmurs, nipping at my earlobe. “And come for me like a good girl.”

I shatter.

My body convulses against him, and he holds me tighter until the tide of pleasure recedes, setting hot kisses to my fluttering pulse.

I’m left limp in his arms. A soft, contented sigh escapes me.

His body tenses, and then slowly, ever so slowly, he removes his hand. I roll over and face him, breath shaky, fingers fumbling with his belt— His hand snaps around my wrist like a vise.

“The storm’s died down. Go to sleep.” My brows knit, and when I find his eyes in the darkness, they’re cold and distant. Angry.

No.

No, he can’t do this.

He can’t touch me, give me pleasure, give me hope, and then push me away again. Like I’m nothing to him. Indignation burns hot in my veins, stoking the flames of a fast-burning rage. I shove him until he’s flat on his back. He lets me. Before he can move, I straddle his waist and bracket his jaw between my palms.

“Listen to me,” I grit out, glaring down at him. “I know I’ve hurt you. I—I never planned for any of this to happen. I wanted revenge on your father, on Arbinj, for killing my mother. But my purpose was driven by a lie.” My voice cracks. “Zev, everything between us—it was true. I swear by the Tides, it was real. The wormbark oil was for you. At the camp, I healed you every night because I couldn’t bear to see you hurt. Not because I needed you for some agenda. Please, Zev. I care about you.”