"Is that why? Is that why you fuck me every time the novel comes…? So even if I suspected you were getting messages… I would never, ever think of cutting it off?"
She melted into his embrace, her sobs shaking them both. "No…" she whimpered, the denial somehow more devastating than confirmation. "I fuck you… every time I'm happy or angry from the news outside… I need… I need to feel it. All of it. With you."
Stevan cursed under his breath. Then he dipped his head and captured her lips in a hard kiss.
The ecstasy of it…
The pain, the truth, how it revealed the addicted animals beneath.
Yes. It had to be the poems. Those seemingly generic, florid verses left on the final page of every chapter. They were the code, woven into ink and sentiment, passing right under his nose, through his own hands. He'd noticed, but couldn't ever decode them himself!
The cipher… whoever had designed it was a different kind of mind entirely. A mind that spoke to hers across miles and stone.
