He worked at her, moving her back and forth as his tongue went into all kinds of places, slick on slick, hot on hot.

Looking down, her eyes burned at what she saw, his Mohawked head between her thighs, her legs parted over his enormous back, her socked foot flopping around, her booted foot and her sweats doing the same on the other side.

As the pleasure became too much, Jo’s lids squeezed shut.

She had no idea where she was. But she knew exactly what was being done to her and who was doing it.

Syn had more than delivered what he’d promised her.

All she knew was him, and it wasn’t that nothing else mattered to her.

Nothing else even existed.

Syn could have kept going forever. But he knew that the abandoned dorm was not as secure as he would have liked, and his phone was going off again in his inside pocket. God only knew what was wrong now.

And yet . . .

Dragging his tongue up Jo’s sex, he paid special attention to the top of her core, lolling around, flicking quick. He really wished she were naked, and they were in her warm apartment, and there was a forever ahead of them instead of only an hour. A quarter hour. Ten minutes . . .

Five minutes.

One minute.

As she called out his name again, he reluctantly released her flesh. Then he carefully, gently, eased her off his shoulders and set her feet back on the cold floor.

He took a moment to enjoy the sight of her, her red hair a glorious mess around her shoulders, her clothes all disordered, her thighs twitching and quivering. He especially loved the way her face was flushed and her eyes were glowing.

“Here,” he said softly. “Allow me to tend unto you.”

“Hmm?”

The fact that she was so undone she couldn’t speak made him feel a surge of male satisfaction throughout his entire body.

“Allow me,” he repeated as he took the loose leg of her sweatpants and slid it back on over her foot.

It was hard to cover her up, and he led with her panties, drawing the cotton slip into place. Before he went any further, he leaned in and chastely kissed where he had spent his time. Then he took the waistband of the sweatpants and went up, up, over her creamy thighs, re-clothing her.

Sitting back on his heels, he put his palms on the outsides of her knees. “Thank you.”

As she stared down at him, he deliberately ran his tongue around his lips.

The groan she let out made him smile.

“Are you okay,” she asked in a deep voice.

“I’m perfect.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Yes, he was in pain. Yes, there were going to be aftereffects. Yes, he grunted as he stood up. And he winced. And he cursed as he turned away from her and pulled his leathers into place.

Yeah, sure, stuffing his cock into his pants was an exercise in torture.

But he didn’t regret one stroke. One suck. One lick.

When he pivoted around again, Jo was looking worried.

“No,” he said patiently. “We had a deal.”

“We did?”

“Yup. You weren’t going to worry about me.” He took her hand. “And now we’re going to get you home.”

Together, they walked down the hall, and down the stairs, and down the way to the car. When he asked her for her keys, she protested only a little, and then he settled her in the passenger seat and closed her door. Getting behind the wheel, he drove them back out to the gates of the school. As he hit the brakes, he looked over at her.

Jo’s head was off to the side, propped against the window, her eyes closed and her breathing even. The flush he had given her was still on her cheeks and there was the lilt of a smile on her lips, the kind of thing that suggested her dreams were what he wanted them to be.

Happy. Safe. Peaceful.

Syn didn’t put the directional signal on, for fear that the ticking would rouse her. And he went easy on the brakes and the accelerator as he eased their way home, keeping everything as smooth as possible. When he pulled up to her building, he hated to wake her.

He was still staring at her, the engine running, the heater blowing warmth on them both, when her lids fluttered open. Her eyes, sleepy and contented, a little confused, focused on him.

“Hi,” she said.

Syn reached over and brushed her cheek with his fingertip. “Hello, beautiful female.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

Syn had never been a gentlemale. But he shut off the engine and all but bolted around the front of her car to open her door. Extending his palm to her, he drew her out as if he were in a tuxedo and she in a ball gown, and he escorted her all the way to her door like the building she lived in was a castle.

He even opened the way into her apartment for her, pretending to use the key that was on the ring even though he freed the dead bolt with his mind.

But he stopped on the threshold. “I’m going to leave you here.”

“Okay.” She stepped inside and turned around. “Would it look desperate if I asked when I can see you again?”

Behind her, he eyed the couch they’d had sex on the night before, and decided they needed to test out those cushions again. Also her bed. The floor. Her shower.

Those kitchen counters.

“It’s not desperate at all,” he murmured as he refocused on her face. “Because I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“Tomorrow night? After work?”

“Yes. I will come to you here—”

“Oh, shoot. The bus isn’t running this late. We need to take you downtown—”

“It’s okay. I left my car parked around back.”

“All right. Good.” She glanced down for a second, to where his shit-kickers and her much smaller boots were nearly toe to toe. “Are you sure you’re okay, you know, after we—”

By way of answer, he pulled her against him and covered her mouth with his own. Kissing her deeply, he bent her back so that she gripped his shoulders. When they were both breathless, he released her lips.

“Does it feel like anything’s wrong with me?” he drawled.

Jo shook her head. “No . . . not at all.”

“Until tomorrow.” Syn had to force himself to separate their bodies and let go of her. “Shut your door and lock up. I won’t leave until I hear that dead bolt go back where it belongs.”

“You’re so protective.”

“Of you? You better believe it.”

Jo’s smile made him feel like a wealthy male, a curious state given that he had never cared about the material before. Then again, money and assets were not the true way of judging whether someone was rich.

Before she disappeared into her apartment, Jo rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. And then she closed her door.

A split second later, he heard the shift and clunk of that bolt hitting home.

Turning away, Syn whistled under his breath as he set about his departure. In spite of his colossal set of blue balls, he skipped his way by the mailboxes and all but twinkle-toed his way out into the night.

Amazing what the right female will do for a guy.

Sister mine.

The entities had agreed to meet upon neutral ground, in their usual place at which to congress, the grand and gracious Caldwell Public Library. Second floor. Marble colonnade that led into the rare books section where one needed proof of identity and a master’s to gain entrance.

If one were human, that was. If one were not? If one were substance made of air, sound captured within silence, light that cast no shadow and darkness that did?

Well, then you went wherever the hell you wanted to.

Brother mine.

As the Scribe Virgin communicated her greeting, she regarded her sibling with reserve. There were conclusions she came unto, but she kept them free of her thoughts. The pair of them were, as many twins were, connected on a deep level, and there were things he mustn’t know.

The Omega floated around before her, hovering above the white and black marble floor, the shadow which was his essence spilling out from under robes that had previously always sparkled with cleanliness, but were now stained and torn.

She was surprised at the sadness she felt over his disintegration. How fare thee, Brother?

You know the answer to that. The Omega stopped, the draping that covered his features moving around to face her. Why must we always meet here?

When you were allowed to choose the site, you picked a morgue.

A chuckle came out from beneath the dirty white hooding. I did.

And then a murder scene.

To be fair, I was working that night.

And finally, a car accident.

That one was perfectly appropriate. The Omega shrugged. Indeed, Father always says we should do more things together.

I do not believe that includes being in a car as it careens off a cliff.

We would have had the whole trip down to the ocean to talk. The driver was drunk, he would not have heard us, anyway. And there was plenty of room in the back seat of that SUV.

It was not appropriate a’tall.

You are such a stiff, Sister mine.

Tell me how you are, Brother.

The Omega drifted over to the marble balustrade that ran around the grand, theatrical staircase. The main lights had been dimmed as the facility was closed for the night, but sconces glowed sweetly upon many a wall and the wrought iron chandelier that hung from a heavy chain over the descent of marble steps cast soft illumination.

I am very well, thank you.

You can stop this, you realize. The Scribe Virgin moved closer, but not too close. This war that was started so long ago can be voluntarily ended upon our agreement.

Can it? The dingy hood shook back and forth as the Omega seemed to be looking down the stairway, down to the broad and beautiful entrance foyer with its statues upon pedestals and carved messages of intellect. I do not believe it can.

Simply stop fighting. Stop attempting to kill what I have created for sport. And then it is over.

Ah, Sister, but what I do is not for sport. It is my nature to destroy. Balance to the force of you and all that, the pair of us created with deliberation by Father. We are the Alpha and the Omega, Analisse. Do you not speak of this truth with some regularity? Surely it is not something I must teach unto you after all these centuries.