A/N: Image may or may not be Ness and Hadrian in this chapter ;)

Call me reckless or a desperate flirt, but I look over at the man before me-- with his brilliant blue eyes, ruffled and windswept brown hair, and angular face with a mouth that begs action, and I practically sign up.

I quirk my mouth into a smile, hiding my dirty thoughts. Instead, I say, 'Sounds like a challenge.'

Enjoying the sight of Hadrian blushing, I give him a careless shrug as if to say, 'I'm ready.'

My hands are still in his, but something intense notches up as he stares down at our fingers, and pulls me in closer. When he speaks, I feel his breath on my forehead, as though he's kissing me with his soft words.

'This will be a lot more detailed than scanning for souls in the human world, because for a necromancer, we have to dig deep by getting close. I'll try to explain as we go along,' he murmurs, giving my hands a reassuring squeeze. 'But you may find we...stop using words to communicate.'

A grin flashes onto my face, along with a quip about our communication skills, but Hadrian looks as scared as if he's stood in a chapel, waiting to say his vows. I straighten my face and try to act as serious as he's taking this.

'Okay, so the easiest way to do this is to find a channel point-- that is, a point where I'm allowing you in, so to speak-- and then follow that route back. The soul runs along all the nerves of your body, in thousands of connecting streams: that's what you're going to wade through to find my soul at the centre.'

'That makes no sense.'

'Thanks for the support...'

'No problem. Your channel point is...?'

Hadrian rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. He taps my fingers against his. 'At my fingertips. The body-to-body connection should help you find it, so to speak. So, first you must See, and then Find.'

I want to snap that they should really get some better instructions, but push away my sarcasm. I envisage holding all those comments that are popping up inside my head, and I let them go slowly, letting their importance go. The commentary that normally runs through my head undergoes the same treatment, until I'm in a meditative state that allows me to See.

And Hadrian cocks his head at me, and I know he's doing the same. He raises our hands, nodding towards our fingertips: and rather than See, I feel something. Like a magnet, it draws my attention, draws my--

I can't explain it but it pulls me, a sense of rightness that needs exploring. Heat rushes through my body as I move my fingers over the points I'm feeling, trying to understand. 

What do I feel? I try not to think, and instead I listen to what my body can hear. 

I feel the huge cavern of a person on the other side of these fingers.

I feel the vastness of him, the strength of character.

I feel the depth of him, and I feel how shallow I am in comparison. 

I place my palm flat on his, revelling in that energy thrum through us. He gains it too; I watch as he shudders and presses our palms closer, so no gaps separate them. It's like I'm widening the hole that I sense, exposing more of the sheer hell of the man before me. 

And I start to get a sense of him; not just how he looks or seems, but I start to feel him.

His hands: I feel them turning thousands of pages of books as he researches a subject. I feel them run through his hair when he's uncertain, and rub at his eyes when he's tired. Writing in a beautiful script, even painting a night sky. Rolling dice in a game, drumming fingers when he's bored. The way his hands wave when he's talking about something he's passionate about, and he can't put into words how strong his emotion is. I feel as he shakes a hand, a grip that's honest and open and welcoming.

But as I place my wrists on his, I know more.

I know his hands clutching what he holds dear: his books, his dog, his kingdom, me.

I know his hands building an empire from the ground upwards; moulding and painting and placing each piece perfectly. 

I know his comforting hands, and every action that shows his love. The squeeze of my fingers. The soft caress of a thumb, the stroke of fingers against my skin. 

And I'm getting the pieces of a much bigger jigsaw; from only the soul of his hands, I know already the beautiful person that lies within.

And I step forward, my arms flush with his, so that our forearms run together. 

Golden fire alights my skin in a wonderful feeling, and I gasp in pleasure. Hadrian, before me, gives me a look like he wants to step forward and devour me.

I let him. I step forward once again, so that his arms are now around me, and I'm in the middle, and I crane my head to look up at him as I place my hands on his chest and look further at his soul.

The world rushes around me as I take in every essence of him. I've skipped so much, being greedy; I ran from his arms straight to his torso, and the sudden noise of him, all around, is like switching on a radio that's on full blast.

I blink, and settle myself in the frenzy. 

I feel his strength, curling in each muscle that I touch, a strength that flares to protect and cherish and hold dear. His arms, used to hug and treasure. His arms that carry when I fall down. His shoulders, carrying a weight: the worry of a kingdom, the worry of being worthy enough for his wife. Deep down, the worry of even himself, and his actions, and what mark he will make upon the universe.

But more than worry, I sense strength. A silent, resilient strength that embraces the responsibility, embraces the pressure of people's lives, and works solely for them to live up to that expectation. 

On his back, I feel all the burdens he carries. The weight of all the sacrifices in his name, the weight of being unable to prevent Hecate's curse. The weight of Mercer, and the knowledge that he stopped me from going after him.

The weight, even, of my death. The weight that I gave up everything for him. I frown, needing to understand more. I sweep my hands up and around, and feel all along his back for every inch. 

He trembles as though I've touched somewhere sensitive as I expose anything he deems his fault.

And in pictures and feelings and senses, his soul tells me his intimate worries. How he hates that I lost my life for him, gave up my youth and jumped, alone, into that cold water. Hates that he never knew, and hates that he's also glad I did. 

He's worried to want me. He's worried because he's never wanted anyone permanent in his life before. He's had lovers, but never bound to him like I will be if he makes that move.

That knowledge is heavy on him. 

This time, Hadrian breathes out and crushes me against him. There's a wonderful feeling of weight being lifted from him, like he loves that he's sharing with me his intimacies. But at the same time, much more of his body is pressed against me-- especially-- certain areas--

If my vision could turn a colour, I see it cloud red in a blur of lust and want, mine mingled with his.

It's a shame, because I'm sensing so much of him that's not in that area; his legs as they run and leap and jump, and his legs as they tremble and fall. I sense how he gets butterflies in his stomach when I smile just for him, and the fear at the idea of Hecate's plans. But overpowering any of this is his crotch, pressed hard against me: and my mind goes utterly blank.

Every message of need flows into me. His thoughts towards me; what precisely he would do with his teeth and my neck if given the chance, the parts of me he wants to kiss first. I see it all as though it is happening: him pounding inside me, him roaring my name, our bodies slick against one another in desperate, desperate want. And I moan in surprise but also of agreement, how each image flowing from him has me nodding in permission.

'Yes,' I whisper, 'Yes.'

Hadrian grabs me.

He gathers me into his arms, lifting me and growling, low in his throat. His eyes glow now, and mine are reflected in his. He throws me onto his bed, and I momentarily lose that connection to him-- even if I see it all in his eyes. His approval as I'm flung beneath him, his joy at my sprawled state as he places a thigh in between my legs. 

And then he does something I don't expect: he inspects my soul. I don't know how I know, but it's like he's stripping me naked-- and licking me slowly at the same time.

He places a hand on my chest, over my heart, and groans in ecstasy. I sense him, all over me-- knowing all of my details, as though he's reading separate pages in a book about my life. I see him trailing through each one: from my hands, to my chest, to the burdens on my back. I can't pull away, don't want to pull away because his inspection is making my blood pump hot, as though my soul is calling out to be seen. 

He examines my past, the fights my hands fought in the days after Nate's death and the tears they wiped away. As he sees these, such a lonely and fierce expression pours into him, and he curls me into his arms as we lie there on the bed. His heart thumps against mine as he continues to devour me, listening to my fears of marriage, and how I'm terrified of my marriage becoming what my mother and father's was. He listens to my fears for Nate and Mercer, and even my father. He listens to my anger, my hatred of Hecate and even, to some degree, my own mother. 

He listens to my loneliness. After Nate died, potential friends were only harder to leave behind if I were chosen as the Little Saint Bride. So I stayed away, even when I would watch the gathering from a rooftop later, alone. He listens to how I've always craved someone to love me and not leave me or let me down.

And so we stay like that for what feels like an eternity, with Hadrian stroking a lazy hand across my body to feel me, in more ways than one. And when he's content, he moves his leg back between my thighs and I watch as he feels my desire-- and becomes aroused by it.

He moves like a predator. He's on top, staring straight at me, our noses almost touching. He smells gorgeous, like smoke and earth and man. I twist my head to his neck and inhale him.

He goes very still. My fingers reach up along his back, and the most amazing thing happens. 

I feel his surprise.

It's like a ripple running through his body, but my fingers running nails along his back delights him. And I latch onto that feeling, that ability to make him happy, and want to carry on. 

My lips brush against his neck.

His pleasure echoes. I can almost feel him keening as my lips pull away. I dive back, brushing them higher this time, right underneath his earlobe, and something intense pools at my core as he freezes, spasming in the sensuality. 

I nibble his ear. Just to see what happens.

The growl that reverberates through him pulses straight through me. His hands move, running light fingers around my lower belly, and I squirm, trying to push them lower. 

His teeth glint as he grins wolfishly, enjoying the tease.

I leave a trail of wetness along his thigh from where he'd been rubbing against me. He goes still as he realises, and for a moment, I'm fearful that he's disgusted in some way. 

At this doubt, he grabs me by the shoulders, shaking his head.

'No,' he says, 'It's so hot. I can't...I can't even begin to describe what I want to do to you because of it.'

And with a low, throaty voice I don't recognise, I say, 'You don't have to.'

My pelvis brushes against his and I let his desires show me exactly what he wants. 

It has everything to do with the erection pressed up against me. I suppress another moan of pleasure, the sheer bulk sending waves of impressed female through to him. 

I see his grin widen. 

'Before we go any further...' he looks pained, as if words are a struggle. 'I want you to see all of me.'

I let out a playful chuckle. 'There's more?'

His eyes flicker down my face, from my eyes to my lips. Immediately, I'm drawn to his. Perfectly poised, a few inches away, and looking temptingly soft.

I can't help but recall our last kisses, and the flurry of emotions they had made me feel. Ironically, Hadrian now realises this, and I sense his laughter, his triumph, at already melting that outer shell with his kiss. 

'I think I know how to show you,' is all he can manage.

I lift my fingers to his lips in question. His head nods by a fraction. We're both still, our legs entwined, his hand pinning my free one, and my remaining hand, now close to his cheek.

'Then kiss me,' I command.

He obeys. 

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A/N: so a nice quick update as an apology for all those weeks slacking......and a reminder that this story IS a romance for a reason ;)

what do you think? do you like it? 

lots of love

L

xxxxx