Blind Hearts and Silenced Passion Read Online Free Page B

didn't
really matter. Suddenly, they were kissing, their mouths crashing together with
an intensity that was almost angry. Remy tasted blood—his own? Baqir's? He had
no idea—and he groaned as he crawled into Baqir's lap.
    Baqir stabbed his fingers through Remy's hair, pulling hard,
and the pain in his scalp made pleasure shoot over Remy. He ground against
Baqir's abdomen, biting down on his lower lip. His fingernails turned into
claws, and he dug them into Baqir's flesh, heedless of the fact that he was
drawing blood.
    Judging by the erection nudging Remy's ass, Baqir didn't mind
in the slightest. He also wasn't about to let Remy take over. Before Remy even
knew what was going on, his mate had flipped him over on the couch and pounced
on him with a greed only a werewolf would understand.
    Perhaps the feel of Baqir's bulk on top of him should have
scared him, but it didn't, not in the slightest. In fact, feeling the warmth,
the strength, the passion his mate exuded swept away any doubts Remy might have
had. He tried to cling to Baqir, to show how much he wanted this, but it didn't
work quite the way he wanted it to.
    It was laughable how easily Baqir managed to catch his wrists
and pin them down. He wasn't that much bigger than Remy, and yet, Remy blinked
and he found his hands immobilized above his head. All the while, Baqir never
stopped kissing him, stealing his breath, almost making his heart leap out of
his chest. Remy decided he didn't give a fuck about how he got what he wanted,
as long as Baqir kept kissing him just like that, kept touching him—never
stopped.
    Their tongues dueled as they desperately fed on one another,
and Remy's head was spinning, his senses on overdrive. At this point, it was
likely not even because of Reynard's tea, but simply due to the fact that Baqir
was holding him so close, keeping him trapped, and yet protected.
    It was easy to surrender to Baqir, to simply let go. Not even
breathing seemed to matter anymore. After all, he could easily take in the
oxygen in Baqir's lungs, couldn't he? A fuzzy part of him told him breathing
didn't work like that, but who the hell cared? As long as Remy could keep
touching and being touched, he'd happily go against the laws of nature.
    When Baqir finally broke the kiss, Remy took a few seconds to
gather his wits—or at least make the attempt—then decided it was pointless and
threw all caution to the wind. Oh, who was he kidding? He'd forgone his sanity
when he'd followed his heart and brought Baqir here. And the thing was he had
absolutely no regrets—save one. "We have far too many clothes on," he
managed to whisper against his mate's lips.
    Baqir seemed to agree, because he was suddenly clawing at Remy's
clothes, ripping off seams and tearing material. The space on the couch was
cramped, so he didn't have a lot of room to maneuver, but somehow, he managed.
Remy was not as successful, since Baqir had not yet released his wrists. Truly,
Remy was astonished that Baqir even had that kind of strength and dexterity
despite his intoxicated state. Of course, he was very happy to enjoy the
results. Baqir's heated fingers traced his ribcage, leaving trails of fire in
their wake. Paradoxically, it made Remy shiver, awakening sensitive nerve
endings he hadn't even been aware of.
    Baqir's lips left his own, and Remy might have protested if
they hadn't latched onto his ear. It shouldn't have felt as good as it did, but
at this point, Remy thought that even Baqir's breath could bring him
unreasonable amounts of pleasure. He'd have almost thought Reynard had done
something more peculiar than usual to his tea, but he knew better. Touching his
mate and feeling him touch back was like a miracle, both soothing him and inflaming
him, giving him a sensation of rightness he hadn't experienced since he'd lost
his eyesight.
    He'd tried so hard to forget about his loss, and then to
compensate for it. He'd sought to encourage his dead senses by the worst means
possible. But