Cool hands bit into my hips and heat like fire filled my core, fuel to the storm burning through me. The world was an avalanche of noise and color, bursting and decaying, and the only concrete thing I understood was relief—relief so deep and heavy, it was in my marrow. In all the chaos, there was a void of quiet, and I sank into the place eagerly, leaving the past few hours and weeks and years behind me.
Con ripped himself away, and reality was stark and cold.
The avalanche was applause, loud and boisterous in my ear, and I flinched away from the noise. There were bright spots in my vision from too long in the spotlight, and I managed to drape a heavy arm over my face to block out the glare, but the colors remained in the shadows of my eyelids. I shivered, and traces of unnameable sensation raced through me.
Strong arms gathered me up from the bench, drawing me to a warm frame, and I knew by the spice it was Constantine. He had never touched me in his unified form, and I wasn't sure if it was how overwhelmed I already was, but Con's spectacular pain had vanished, leaving only the mundane ache of tired limbs. Antin's gift evaporated too, leaving only the familiar sexual throb after release.
Darkness rushed in and my arm slipped loose, hanging down, tired and tense. I tucked my face into the bare chest at my side and tried to find my way back to that heavenly moment where I'd lost all sense.