Chapter 16
Splendor was the word of choice as Nala lay in bed, exhausted, her eyes glued – albeit hazily – to the ceiling as Vincent gently kissed her skin and rubbed her aching muscles.
No pain mattered. Not even the words entering one ear and leaving the other. Sometimes Vincent would wrap his body around hers, fondle her hips and breasts, and ease her legs open so he could lazily take her from behind. She didn’t care. She barely registered anything happening, even though she was there, she felt it, and every time she connected to his heart again.
“You’re beautiful,” he said more than once. “I love you. Do you love me? Everything will be okay, I promise. You were amazing. That was better than I thought it could be. Maybe next time I’ll write the script and you’ll see the depths of my own fantasies.”
The man would not shut up. Eventually, Nala pushed him off her, out of her, and rolled over until her mouth met his reemerging hardness. She could taste herself on him, and yet she still could barely register what she did or what was going on. The haze she traversed was laced in self-administering opiates.
Was this it? Was this the darkness she craved, manifested in untold ways? Her thighs were sore. Her core ached for more of what Vincent offered, but knew she should hold off. Her breasts tingled for him. Her mouth called to his, wanting a million kisses that lingered on her lips and plunged deep into her throat. When she finished rubbing herself against his hardness, Vincent rolled on top of her and made slow love while his tongue claimed the depths of her demeanor.
There was no one in this world she trusted more than him. Surely, there were others she could eventually trust, but why would she seek them out? Even when their role-play came to an end because Vincent told her he needed to embrace reality, Nala continued to stare at the ceiling and feel so, so fucking relieved that she no longer held onto the negativity plaguing her form for untold time.
“I love you.” No matter how often she heard it, Nala remained unfazed. She managed a nod when Vincent asked if he could make love to her once more, his body all around her as he filled her with his strength, youth, and virility.
Who knew how much time had passed when she felt his fingers grazing her forehead, detangling her hair and touching her as lightly as his kisses did? Nala didn’t care. She was so gone that she felt like she was drunk on the power it eventually gave her. The power that could change her fucking life.
Eventually, she closed her eyes and dozed off, feeling Vincent’s hands still all over her. She went to sleep feeling like more than his supernatural bride. She was his very real partner. She was his Nightingale, a shadowy agent of change – and, most of all, rebirth.
***
Nala awoke sore, but refreshed. She rolled over in the big hotel bed, opening her eyes to find Vincent sitting half naked on the floor in front of the French doors leading out to a balcony that was too cold to visit tonight.
She gazed at him for a long time, mesmerized by the lines and ripples of his body. He looked like he was meditating, although he did nothing more than sit cross-legged with his hands on his knees. Or maybe he was enjoying the clear night sky. It was hard to tell from Nala’s vantage point.
“How are you doing?” Wow, my voice is hoarse.
Vincent slightly turned his head at the sound of her voice. “I’m better than ever. You? I thought I lost you for a while there.”
Nala inhaled deeply, filling her body with the air it desperately needed, apparently. “Not doing too bad at all. I got what I wanted.”
“Good.” Vincent stood, his softened countenance turning toward Nala. “So did I.”
She pushed herself up, tangled hair falling across her face and twisting on the pillow. “Do we have a new plan? Or am I still going to Indianapolis in a couple of days?”
Vincent came to her, his hand instantly reaching for her cheek. “More than ever I want you to be safe. Tonight was fantastic, but once we leave this hotel tomorrow, we’re back to being on the run. There are people who want us dead. I won’t let them lay a hand on you, so help me.”
“Hm.” Nala didn’t say anything beyond that. She invited Vincent into bed with her, where they made love once more, her body calling to his in ways it honestly did not need to bear any more. Nala ignored the aching muscles and soreness elsewhere. She knew that, come two days, it may be a long time before she made love to her soul mate again. If ever.
Nala didn’t want to start the next phase of their renewed relationship with a lie. Yet she lied when he asked her if she would go to Indianapolis. “Of course I will,” she said. Of course she wouldn’t. Nala and Nightingale were truly one now. Nala wanted to run away to safety and think of only her boyfriend, but Nightingale knew that her battle was not yet over. The mourning bird did not stop singing when justice was so within reach.