"Tell me," he commanded, his voice barely audible above her gasping. His eyes searched hers, demanding an answer her mind could not formulate. "What do you want? What do you need?"
Her movements stuttered. She registered the question, the permission, the heavy weight of his gaze. She wanted to say it. She wanted to scream the answer into the silence of the Nest. She wanted him to take the fire, to end the agony, to finish the impossible promise her body was making.
But the words caught in her throat, strangled by the last vestiges of her conscious mind.
My brother.
The moral clarity was a tiny, sharp pinprick against the tidal wave of sensation. It was enough to lock her jaw, enough to keep the forbidden words trapped inside.
She shook her head, a pathetic, jerky movement, unable to speak, unable to stop moving, unable to articulate the need that was driving her mad. She could only stare into his eyes, trembling violently, her hips resuming their frantic, desperate rhythm.
