Page 162 of Crystal Luna

I fucking hate this, he admitted—to Ely as well to himself. How am I supposed to talk about this if you aren’t even here to listen. You always made me talk. Now who am I supposed to sit down with?

But he was grateful. Ely had sacrificed himself to save Vel’s life. Losing his mate would have been a greater loss. It was horrible for him to think that way, and he knew that.

I wanted you punished, but…

Sure, he’d wished Ely all kinds of horrendous pain—but never death. He regretted not having talked to Ely. There was so much left unresolved. They’d never get the chance to make things right.

Fuck Ely!! I fucking love you, but the hate is so much bigger right now. You’re supposed to be my ride or die—the one I look for when I need back up, not the one to leave me behind without a plan to go forward.

With his eyes closed, he pictured Ely’s sly smirk—which only made tears pool in his eyes. They spilled down as memories of his best friend flooded his mind. His mind played a film of all the idiotic things they’d gotten themselves into before they had to step into their roles. He reached out and touched the silk, the fabric smoothly running through his fingers.

‘You’ll see each other again before Isis when it’s time.’

Isaiah repeated Vel’s words like a mantra—like a promise. One he would demand the second he stood before his goddess. With that, he finally accepted that he had to let his internal conflict play out as it was. No amount of talking would make it go away.

He let go of the silk and brushed the wetness from his face. When he turned, Vel remained standing in the doorway. She was the first one to leave once she felt that he was ready.

But Isaiah hesitated to close the door. “I can leave if you want time with him too?”

“No need. I’ve said what I needed to say.”

He nodded and pulled the door shut behind them. Though there was no real closure, the promise of seeing him before Isis made it easier to let go of some of that tension.

They walked silently side-by-side and though Isaiah craved her touch, he didn’t reach out for her. They’d made some progress, but he didn’t want to push her boundaries too far. Of course, she could sense his thoughts though. And Vel surprised him by reaching out and weaving her fingers through his.

“Thank you for coming.”

“You remember that first night I returned? When I stood by the porch and couldn’t get in?”

He nodded, remembering the feeling that made him go downstairs to investigate.

“I felt that same feeling earlier: I woke up feeling stuck. It took me a minute to figure out that I was feeling your emotions—not my own.”

“I did feel stuck, paralyzed actually.”

“You just needed that little push, just like I needed yours that night.”

Isaiah looked over, and only then realised that Vel was wearing nothing more than pyjamas. She’d tied on her boots and thrown on a thin sweater, but it couldn’t have been doing much to keep her warm. He gripped her hand a little tighter, his mind no longer able to form the words to tell her how grateful he was for her.

Once back home, he expected Vel to let go of his hand by her bedroom door. Instead, she led him straight into his bedroom. Speechless, he watched as she sat on his bed and untied her boots. With the boots gone, she removed the hoodie to expose a tight black tank top that did nothing to hide her figure—or the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

He brought his eyes back to hers, but not fast enough. The smirk on her face told him that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Come here,” she demanded.

Typically, Isaiah was the one in control. But in that moment, his feet moved of their own accord. Once he got close enough, she wrapped her hand around his belt buckle and pulled him between her legs.

“Close your eyes.”

Isaiah wasn’t sure if he wanted to protest or not, but he decided against it and did as he was told.

The metallic sound of his belt being undone rang out in the quiet room, followed by the sound of his zipper being lowered reverberating off the walls. Vel was careful, taking her time with each step. The heavy weight of his belt helped her lower his jeans until they pooled around his ankles. His dick was already hard, welcoming anything she’d be willing to give.

His boxer briefs followed his jeans, and a sigh filled the air around them as she wrapped a soft hand around his hard length. His cock jerked in her hand, sparks shooting through his veins.

“I…” Vel inhaled deeply as if the next words were hard for her to say. “I’m not good at this. I’ve never…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but Isaiah understood.