He hadn't been able to resist seeing her one last time.
After they had stepped through the portal, Hannah had started to scream in pain, begging him to do something, anything, to make it stop. He had brought her to the closest hospital, and left her there, to be taken care of. It had taken her a week to recover to the point where they had let her go home, a week he had spent making preparations, getting ready to leave.
Now, he was standing in a dark corner of her room, well hidden, watching her sleep. Her hair was fanned out over the pillows, her skin pasty in the darkness. Her throat as well as her shoulder was covered in thick bandages. He watched her chest raise and sink slowly, wondering if she was dreaming at the moment.
He wanted to stay with her badly. She seemed so vulnerable, laying there, and he wanted nothing more than to be there for her, to protect her. At the same time, the notion made him feel sappy and weak, and he was disgusted with himself for letting his feelings take over his thinking.
In the end, his rational side had won out. Even though staying with Hannah would allow him to protect her, his presence was what put her in danger in the first place. It was easier for him to leave. He still remembered Meraja's words, and he didn't doubt that she was right. The feelings between Hannah and him would not lessen with time. If he left now, though, he might be able to retain his sanity, pretending she would always be out there somewhere, waiting for him. He would not have to suffer through seeing her grow old and die, and his last memory of her would be this one, watching her sleep.
"It's better for the both of us," he whispered under his breath, just as she stirred.
"Cian?" she asked, her voice sleepy.
She couldn't have seen him, yet she seemed certain he was there. When her eyes finally opened, they searched the room rapidly.
"I'm here." He moved closer to her and stood by the window, now plainly visible in the moonlight. "How did you know I was here?"
"I felt it, somehow." She didn't seem sure herself, and he sighed when he sat down by the side of her bed. The connection between them grew stronger the longer they were together - another reason for him to get away from her as soon as possible.
"You're leaving, aren't you?"
Now she seemed to read his mind, too. He smiled ruefully, lowering his head. Hannah only grasped his hand.
"It's fine, Cian. I know why you're doing it." She smiled faintly. "I've been thinking about all this a lot too, while I was in the hospital."
Cian nodded, glad he wouldn't have to explain himself. He didn't want to leave while she was angry.
He looked at her. She was so beautiful, the pale skin in contrast to the midnight-black hair, her soft lips slightly open as she looked back at him with dark eyes. He swallowed. His mind still revolted at the thought of love, even when it was no use denying it.
Hannah seemed to sense his thoughts yet again. She sat up, running her hand up his arm and along his shoulder, her eyes still on him. It was probably just as difficult for her, admitting love for someone who had once expressed his joy at torturing her.
"We don't have to talk, you know," she whispered.
He closed his eyes and kissed her. She was soft and responsive, putting her arms around him and letting him hold her. His hand touched the bandage on her throat, and for a moment he shuddered, remembering the horror he had felt upon seeing what he had done to her.
As the kiss deepened, her hands wandered, working on the buttons of his shirt. He caressed her skin, tugging the blanket away so he could touch all of her.
Impatiently, Hannah tugged on his shirt. He smiled and drew back, shedding his clothes entirely before lowering himself back onto the bed next to her. She was ready for him, waiting, pressing herself against him. His hands stretched out for her body almost automatically.
She whimpered into his mouth when he started kneading her breasts. Her own hands were busy as well, wandering down his body and wrapping around his erection. He liked the way she caressed him there, squeezing and massaging gently.
He pressed one thigh in between hers to open her legs. His fingers found a trickle of wetness between them already, and he slowly penetrated her further, encouraged by her soft moans. His other hand was busy playing with her nipples now, pinching first one and then the other, as he watched them redden slightly.
