The feel of him consuming the excess energy, siphoning it from her as surely as she had done from the Hunt, was heady – both erotic and a little painful. Every sip of power that he took drew forth more, a wellspring of darkness bubbling up to the surface in response.
Elia saw the cracks in his shell, and at the same time did not. She saw the differences in him, and at the same time hardly noticed. What mattered was the feel of Kennet against her, his hand sliding down her body, draining energy from each of her chakras in turn. Touching, teasing... and then pulling away, prompting a whimper of complaint from the witch's lips.
Her eyes focused briefly, clearly with some effort, and she reached for him, her fingers catching at the fabric of his loose clothing.