Ten

G.G. rolled over in bed and opened his eyes, feeling just wonderful. Well rested, and well sated from the dreams he’d shared with Ildaria. Damn, if life mate sex was ten times better than that as he’d once heard an immortal claim, it might kill him. But what a way to go, he thought with a grin and closed his eyes to savor the memories still swimming in his head.

The dreams had changed since Ildaria had told him they were shared and told him he was a possible life mate. She no longer just came along for the ride. She was starting to instigate things and really get involved. Last night she’d taken their dream to a beach he suspected was in Punta Cana. They had been alone, the sand soft as silk beneath them, the moon and stars bright overhead and a balmy breeze caressing their bodies as they’d kissed. She’d been wearing the pirate costume she’d described to him, explaining with a grin that it was just for him. However, his costume, she’d added, was just for her and he’d looked down to see that he was in boots and tight black pants, a blousy, white cotton pirate shirt open to show off his chest.

“Will you ravish me, El Capitan?” she’d asked, her eyes glowing golden brown as they always did when she got excited. “Or should I stake you out in the sand and ravish you?”

G.G. had to admit the idea of being ravished had been an exciting one. It must have shown on his face, because the next thing he knew he was flat on his back on a blanket on the sand, his arms and legs tied to stakes in the ground. He’d been a little surprised to see his clothes still on, until he noticed Ildaria standing over him twirling a wickedly sharp knife in her hands.

“I will, of course, unwrap my gift,” she said with a grin and then knelt and began to do just that, slicing through the cloth of his clothes with deft movements that quickly left him in nothing but the boots. But while the cutting away of his clothes was quick, her attention afterward was painfully slow as she’d licked and nibbled and kissed her way up and down and around his body, exploring every inch of him except the part that wanted her attention most. G.G. had been hard pressed not to take over control of the dream, free himself of his bindings, grab her, roll her in the sand, and make love to her. But he’d held back, interested to see where this would go, and most interested to see if she would find her way to his very hard cock, and lick it or freak out and bite it off.

Ildaria didn’t bite it off, and by the time she finally closed her mouth over him, G.G. was crazy close to spilling himself. It had taken mad concentration to keep from doing that, and he’d only managed it for half a dozen strokes of her beautiful mouth before losing it. Fortunately, he recovered quickly in dreams, and within moments he had turned the tables on her, and she was suddenly staked out on the ground while he stripped and loved every inch of her until she was crying out with her release too.

After that, they’d gone for a swim and ended up making love in the surf. Then Ildaria had dragged him to his feet and pulled him behind her as she raced up the sand and into the palm trees. They were naked when they started out, but by the time they stepped out of the forest and into a crowded street, he was in his pirate gear again and she was in a lovely white dress with red and blue stripes running around it in ruffles. The top was what G.G. thought they called a peasant top. He wasn’t sure, he was no fashionista, but she wore the short sleeves off the shoulders and her hair was piled on top of her head, and falling away down one side in large curls that were interwoven with white, red, and blue flowers. She looked magnificent . . . and G.G. wanted her all over again, but a sudden shout drew his gaze around to see a man in the crowd clutching his behind and howling in pain.

G.G. had barely taken that in when his attention was drawn to another man, this one dressed in a red cloak, shiny shirt, and broad trousers covered in tiny bells, ribbons, and what looked to be bits of broken mirror. This character was also wearing a horned mask with bulging eyes and large teeth that included fangs. The teeth were stained red as if with blood.

“That is Diablo Cojuelo,” Ildaria shouted into his ear to be heard over the merengue music a small band of costumed men were playing.

“A vampire?” G.G. turned to ask in a shout. Even in dreams he wouldn’t shout the word immortal out loud.

“No.” She laughed and explained in a yell, “This is Carnaval. He is the Limping Devil. He was banished to earth because of the childish pranks he pulled. But his leg was injured when he landed, so he limps. At least, that is the official story. My grandmother used to say that he really represented the Spanish who invaded the island and enslaved the native people.”

“What is that he’s carrying?” G.G. asked, eyeing the balloon-like thing the Limping Devil was carrying. It really did look like a pale sort of pinkish skin-colored balloon, but G.G. was pretty sure that was what the howling man had been hit with. A balloon wouldn’t make a man shriek in pain like that.

“His vejiga. A dried and inflated cow bladder, cured with ashes, lemon, and salt. It is very hard. Come, he is getting too close. If he hits you with his vejiga it hurts and you will be bruised for a week,” she warned, and began to pull him away.

G.G. nodded, but glanced back over his shoulder as she pulled him along and thought he caught a glimpse of a naked woman with long black hair, or maybe wearing a dress of long black hair. Only there was something wrong with her feet. Turning back to Ildaria, he yelled, “What—?”

“La Ciguapa. Like a succubus. She walks naked, her long hair her only cover. Her feet are backward to confuse anyone who follows her footprints. She comes out at night and enchants men,” Ildaria explained, as they made their way through the crowd.

“Is this where you grew up?” he asked, catching glimpses of other costumed figures. A man in a woman’s dress carrying a chicken, a woman shrieking hysterically, a large group dressed in attire that looked almost native American but with much more intricate and colorful beading than he’d ever seen.

“Si. It is my village during Carnaval,” she yelled, and then paused and took a quick look around. Seeming satisfied that they weren’t near the Limping Devil and his vejiga, she turned her attention to the street scene and smiled faintly. “This was how the Carnaval was when I was young. Now it is as commercialized as Christmas, with sponsors and concerts and . . .” She shrugged unhappily. “It is not the same anymore.”

“You sound like an old woman,” he teased lightly.

Ildaria turned to him with a crooked smile. “I am an old woman,” she pointed out, and then grinned at his stunned expression as he realized she was right.

She had said she was born in 1812. That meant she was over two hundred years old, older than any mortal alive. She should be a shriveled old prune. But the nanos kept her young and beautiful. G.G. knew about immortals, and intellectually he knew that most if not all of them that he met were older than him, but for some reason he didn’t think of them that way.

“Oh, G.G., you are dating an older woman,” Ildaria said suddenly, with wide eyes. “A cougar.”

G.G. snorted at the claim. “You’re no cougar.”

“Si. Lydia, my friend from university, said an older woman with a younger man is a cougar. I am a cougar,” she assured him. “And you are mi perrito.”

“What is that?” he asked suspiciously.

“My puppy.”

“My puppy?” he gasped with disbelief.

“Well, it’s better than my kitty. That just sounds wrong. I could call you Osito.”

“Which means?”

“Cuddly teddy bear.” When he scowled, she said, “Semental? It means stallion.”

“Yeah, well that’s not what it sounds like,” he said dryly.

“Or polla grande,” she offered, and then smiled wickedly and explained, “It means big cock.”

G.G. felt the grin spread over his face. Yeah, he was a guy. He liked that name.

Ildaria burst out laughing at his expression, sidled closer, and he felt her hand slide up his leg, toward his groin. “I like you in this outfit, polla grande.”

“Naughty,” he said softly, catching her hand. It might be a dream, but it still felt like there were hundreds of people around them. Unfortunately, as usual, one touch and he was ready to go. Hell, one look and he was usually ready to go. Ildaria was like a drug and he was addicted. Still holding her hand in his, he slid his free hand to her hip. “And I like you in this dress, Angel. It makes me want to slip my hand under your skirt to see what you’re wearing under it.” He let his hand glide down over her bottom and urged her closer as he squeezed gently. “But I really think you look even better out of it.”

Ildaria smiled slowly, and then pulled away and tugged him along behind her, leading him through the crowd, moving toward the edge of it until they broke away and escaped into an alley. It was narrow and dark, and felt isolated from the celebrating villagers behind them, the music, laughter, and chatter muted a great deal. G.G. was just wondering where they were going when she stopped and turned to face him. Before he could ask what they were doing, she leaned back against the wall, and tugged her top down, revealing her breasts.

G.G. stared for a moment, awed by the sight, and then moved forward, reaching for the perfect round globes even as his lips found hers. She greeted him warmly, her mouth opening at once to welcome him, and her body arching into his touch. G.G.’s tongue thrust and hips surged as he cupped and squeezed the breasts on offer. Her skin was so soft and warm, and she felt so damned good in his hands. He toyed with her nipples as he kissed her, plucking and tweaking them until she moaned, and then one hand fell away and dropped to tug up her skirt. Catching the cloth between them with the pressure of his body, he reached under it to skim his hand up her leg, smiling against her mouth when she shivered and shifted restlessly, little mewls of sound slipping from her mouth to his. He loved those sounds. He wanted more of them, and slid his hand between her legs to find no panties to bar his way.

The woman thought of everything, he marveled as he pressed against her heat. He felt her fingers tighten on his shoulders, and her legs spread a bit to make it easier, and then he let his fingers glide over her warm wet skin, and she was so wet for him. He wanted more.

Ildaria gasped and shuddered, her hips shifting as his fingers slid between her folds and caressed her. Moving gently but firmly around the nub he felt there, he just brushed the edges of the delicate spot and swallowed her gasps and moans as she began to ride his hand, chasing his touch as her excitement mounted. When she broke their kiss and gasped, “Please!” in that needy voice he loved, G.G. moved his mouth to her ear and nipped lightly before asking, “What do you want, Angel?”

“You,” she moaned.

“You want me inside you?” he asked.

“Si. Oh!” she cried out as he slid a finger inside her, shifting to continue caressing her bud with his thumb now, and doing so more firmly as he eased in and out of her.

“You like that?” he growled, nipping her ear again.

“More,” she gasped, nearly sobbing now. “Please, mi amor. Please.”

Turning his head, he caught her mouth with his in a brief hard kiss, even as his free hand reached for the front of his pants. He had them undone before he recalled it was a dream and he could have wished them undone or even gone. Pushing the thought away, he left off caressing her briefly, and retrieved his hand to catch her upper legs. When Ildaria immediately clutched at his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips, he guided himself into her, hissing between his teeth as she closed around him warm, and wet and—

“So damn tight,” he breathed as the head of his erection was swallowed and squeezed and drawn farther in. Then he surged upward, burying himself in her, a groan slipping from his mouth even as he heard hers. Pinning her body to the wall with his, G.G. turned his head and kissed her again. This time he continued to kiss her, his tongue thrusting in time to his body pushing into hers, slowly at first, and then with increased speed when she began clawing at his shoulders, her nails biting into the skin. It was a mistake. He almost came before she was ready, and had to fight the urge, mentally shouting at himself. “No. Wait. Christ, you can’t—” and then Ildaria broke their kiss on a cry and strained against him, her inner muscles tightening and pulsing around him as she found her release. Nothing could have stopped G.G. then, and he followed her into that pleasure with a shout of his own, before sagging against her, his forehead resting on hers.

They were both silent for a moment as they caught their breath. But when he slipped from inside her, Ildaria stretched lazily and ran her hands over his back before sliding them up to clasp his face and urge his head up. G.G. opened his eyes to see her smiling at him softly.

Letting her legs drop, she stood on her own and then leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you, mi amor. I am sure you have banished the nightmares. I will never think of this spot again without remembering this.”

G.G. blinked as his mind absorbed her words, and then he turned to peer around the small alley. It was dark and narrow and somewhat smelly, and he was suddenly quite sure it was the alley where she’d been assaulted by the soldiers and then attacked and turned by Juan Villaverde. When he turned back to her in question, she nodded and then kissed him again.

It started out a soft brushing of lips like the first. She was the one to deepen it, her tongue skimming his lips and urging them apart to allow her to slip in. G.G. started kissing her back then, but was careful to let her lead the way. She led them deep, her kisses returning to the passion of moments ago, and when her hand found him and slid his length, he groaned into her mouth as he felt himself grow.

He didn’t resist when she turned them so that he was the one against the wall, but his eyes popped open when she suddenly broke their kiss and he sensed her shifting. She had dropped to her knees before him, and concern nudged aside some of his passion then.

His worry must have shown on his face, because a small smirk tilted Ildaria’s lips and she whispered, “Coward,” against the head of his semi-erect cock as she took him in hand.

“I’m kind of attached to my parts,” he said for explanation.

“So am I, semental,” she assured him and then took him in her mouth.

G.G. wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the sensation as she ran her lips and tongue his length, but was nervous enough that he couldn’t. However even here, in this spot, she wasn’t moved to bite him, and bloody hell, watching her mouth moving on him was about the most erotic damned thing he’d ever seen. Despite having just loved her, it didn’t take long for her to push him over the edge. In fact it was fast enough he would have been embarrassed if it hadn’t felt so damned good and she didn’t look so bloody pleased.

Shaking his head on a helpless laugh, he sagged against the wall and then closed his arms around her when she straightened and leaned against him.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing her close and dropping a kiss on her forehead.

“Si. And so are you. It is why we are life mates,” she whispered, kissing his chin softly.

G.G. peered down at her silently for a minute and then suddenly spun her to the wall, and knelt before her, his hands pushing her skirt up her legs and his mouth following in their wake, trailing kisses.

“G.G.?” she whispered, already sounding breathless.

“I’m going to give you one more good memory to replace the old ones here,” he said, drawing one of her legs over his shoulder and finding her with his lips and tongue. And he was pretty sure it was the best damned memory ever. G.G. used his mouth and hands, and went at her until she came, screaming in that alley with her pleasure, and then he started all over again. G.G. helped her find her pleasure half a dozen times that way. When he finally stopped, her legs were shaking so badly she couldn’t stand and her hands were clumsy as she tried to straighten her clothes. G.G. helped her, tugging her top back up into place. Then he straightened his own clothes, before sweeping her off her feet. He then carried her out of the alley, murmuring, “Time for bed.”

Ildaria smiled faintly and rested her head against his shoulder, murmuring, “I’m already in bed. This is a dream, remember?”

“Yes,” he agreed as her eyes drifted closed, and then as he stepped out of the alley and miraculously into the bedroom of her apartment, he added softly, “But next time it won’t be.”

G.G. didn’t know if she’d heard him. It seemed ridiculous to believe that she’d fallen asleep in her dream, but that was how it had seemed. Perhaps exhaustion had just forced the dreaming part of her mind to shut down. Whatever the case, he’d laid her in her bed, then rolled over in his own and woke up.

It had been one hell of a night. One of many they’d had the last week since she’d begun to participate in the dreams they shared. But this one was special. It had left G.G. thinking that maybe they really could risk sex while they were awake. That was obviously why Ildaria had led him to the alley where she’d been attacked. Either to test herself, or to show him that she thought it would be safe and she wouldn’t freak out.

He wasn’t saying he wouldn’t still be a little nervous their first time. But he was willing to give it a go. It was just a shame there weren’t Kevlar condoms out there.

Smiling faintly at the thought, G.G. opened his eyes and turned his head to peer at the bedside clock. Shock rolled through him when he saw that it was nine in the morning. He’d slept for twelve hours straight! That was something he hadn’t done since he was a teenager. Oh God, and he’d stuck Ildaria with H.D. She’d obviously slept, or he couldn’t have had the shared dreams with her, but he wondered how long she’d waited for him to come get his dog. Sunrise was around a quarter to six in the morning at this time of year, and he usually finished cleanup and stopped in at her place by six thirty or six forty-five. Ildaria had probably dozed off waiting for him to show up. Damn. He was a bad daddy and employer.

Sitting up abruptly, he tossed the sheet and comforter aside and launched out of bed to hurry into the bathroom. Ten minutes later he came out, showered, shaved, teeth brushed, and Mohawk standing straight up and proud. A quick rummage through the closet and he was also dressed. G.G. didn’t even stop for coffee, he simply hurried out to snatch his keys off the island and then hustled out of the apartment and across the hall.

Knowing Ildaria would still be sleeping, he didn’t knock, but unlocked the door and crept quietly in, expecting to find Ildaria and H.D. curled up on the sofa where she’d no doubt dozed off. But the couch was empty, as was the rest of the apartment until he reached the bedroom. He never would have opened the door had it been closed, but it was wide open, revealing Ildaria curled up in bed, with H.D. snuggled up to her back.

The little fur ball knew better. G.G. never let H.D. in bed. The woman was ruining his dog, he thought with a small smile as his gaze slid over her sleeping face. It was the first time he’d seen her asleep. She looked different. Her face softer without the sharpness that usually cloaked her features when awake. It made him realize that she was usually tense and on the alert for threat or trouble. Hyperaware was what he thought they called it. Without that, she looked like the angel he’d taken to calling her. Sweet and lovely and innocent. Seeing her like this, he could imagine her at fourteen, and simply couldn’t understand how anyone would want to harm her. His immediate instinct was to protect her.

Movement drew his gaze to H.D. The fur ball’s eyes were open and his head turned toward the door. G.G. made a soft shushing sound so the dog wouldn’t bark, and then patted his leg. He needn’t have bothered; H.D. was already on his feet and scampering to the foot of the bed. His tags jingled on his collar as he leapt to the floor, and G.G. glanced to Ildaria, relieved that the small sound hadn’t woken her.

He bent to pet his dog in greeting, and then urged him out of the doorway so he could close it. G.G. had decided to make Ildaria breakfast, which meant the clang of pots and pans, running water, etc. and he didn’t want the noise to drag her from sleep prematurely. The woman might have ruined his dog, but otherwise she was perfect . . . for him. But then she would be, she was his life mate.

Damn, I have a life mate, G.G. thought, and smiled as he led H.D. up the hall. He started to head into the kitchen, but a bark from H.D. made him stop and turn back. The dog hadn’t followed him, but had headed to the door instead.

“Right. You need to go out, huh?” G.G. realized and gave his head a shake as he changed direction. That was why he’d gone to fetch him rather than just leaving him with Ildaria until she woke. He hadn’t wanted H.D. to wake her up early with a need to go outside.

“Okay, buddy. Let’s go,” he said as he opened the door. The little mutt rushed out, and then came to an abrupt halt and crouched, barking viciously, which really just sounded like his usual yip, but G.G. knew he was trying to sound mean. Glancing past him, he stopped as well, his eyebrows rising as he took note of the man and woman seated on the floor at the end of the hall, playing cards.

“Mirabeau. Tiny,” he greeted, relaxing and pulling Ildaria’s apartment door closed when he recognized the pair. Eyebrows rising in question, he asked, “To what do we owe this visit? Is it a visit?” he added wryly, not sure what to make of their presence in his hall.

“Lucian called us at about 5:30 in the morning and asked us to come and guard Ildaria,” Mirabeau answered.

“Guard Ildaria?” G.G. echoed, alarm coursing through him. “From what? What’s happened?”

“A couple of South American Enforcers tried to grab her when she took H.D. out to relieve himself after work,” Tiny said in his deep rumble.

“What?” G.G. barked. “Why the hell didn’t she tell me?”

“Maybe she wasn’t awake enough to think of it,” Mirabeau suggested. “Was she sleeping when you went in?”

“Yes. And I didn’t wake her up, but I meant in our dreams last night. She didn’t mention it then either.”

“Ah.” Tiny smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. We heard you two were life mates. Congratulations,” Mirabeau said, and then tilted her head. “But if you two are life mates, why are you sleeping apart? The shared dreams usually stop once you mate. You get more sleep that way.”

“I wouldn’t say more,” Tiny disagreed with amusement.

“Well, it’s more restful sleep, at least,” Mirabeau argued.

“Were you two out here when I left my apartment?” G.G. asked as her earlier words suddenly occurred to him. Lucian had called at 5:30 and sent them over?

“Yeah.” Mirabeau grinned. “You didn’t even look our way, just came out, crossed the hall, and went into Ildaria’s. Good thing we weren’t the South American Enforcers, we’d have taken you out and gone in and grabbed her.”

“Hmm.” Tiny nodded in agreement.

G.G. closed his eyes briefly at the thought. Christ, he’d had no awareness that someone was even in the hall with him. He hadn’t looked around at all.

“No reason for you to. It’s your hall, and you had no idea there was a problem,” Mirabeau pointed out.

“You also haven’t lived your entire life having to watch for trouble,” Tiny pointed out. “Immortals know better than to mess with you. No one wants Robert Guiscard on their ass.”

“And most mortals probably steer clear of you too, because of your size and the Mohawk.”

“Ildaria would have noticed you right away though. Probably before she even opened the door,” G.G. said with a frown, just now realizing how obliviously he’d lived his life. He’d wandered through it, never afraid, never the least anxious that he wasn’t safe and secure. Meanwhile, she’d lived it constantly hunted, constantly on the alert for trouble and threat.

G.G. had hoped she was safe now that she was out of South America, but that bastard Villaverde found out she was here and sent men after her. He could understand his being pissed about her biting off his cock and maybe wanting a little revenge at the time, but hunting her for two hundred years seemed a bit over the top. The guy needed to get over it and move on. As an immortal, he would have grown it back. Maybe. G.G. wasn’t sure. Did immortals grow back their bits if someone took them off?

“Uh, yeah. They do,” Mirabeau said, obviously picking up his thoughts. Wincing then, she asked, “So that’s his beef, huh?”

“He attacked her and she defended herself,” G.G. muttered, hoping Ildaria wouldn’t be upset that others were learning about the incident. He hadn’t said anything. The knowledge had been plucked from his head. Still, it was private, and he didn’t want her uncomfortable or embarrassed because of his wandering thoughts.

“Well, I won’t say anything,” Mirabeau assured him.

G.G. grunted a thank-you, and then glanced to H.D. who was unusually quiet. The dog had sat down and was watching Tiny with interest. But he wasn’t barking at Mirabeau or trying to bite her ankles, which was something new. The dog always went after strange women.

“Tiny’s good with dogs,” Mirabeau commented, shifting her gaze to the dog. “They love him.”

As if to prove it, Tiny snapped his thumb and finger and whistled and H.D. stood and moved cautiously forward, head lowering to sniff as he got closer. Much to G.G.’s amazement, his dog walked right up to the big man and even let him pet him, then sat down next to him and turned to look at G.G.

“Traitor,” G.G. said with amusement. “I thought you had to go outside?”

That had H.D. standing up at once and moving around Tiny to the door.

Nodding, G.G. moved around the couple to get to the door and said, “We shouldn’t be long. Do you two want coffee or something when I get back?”

“Nah. We’re good,” Tiny said when Mirabeau shook her head. “Thanks though.”

“Sure,” G.G. murmured and then opened the door to the stairwell and followed H.D. through. His mind was on Ildaria as he followed the fur ball down the stairs. Someone had tried to snatch her last night while he lay sleeping. He’d nearly lost her and hadn’t known a damned thing about it.

That bastard Villaverde wasn’t going to leave her alone. G.G. had no idea how the man had discovered she was in Canada, but it meant she wasn’t safe here anymore. Maybe he should take her to England. Once there, his father would definitely get involved. He hadn’t told his parents yet that he was Ildaria’s life mate. His mother would be ecstatic when she learned, so would his father. But Robert wielded a bit of power. Tiny wasn’t kidding when he said most immortals left him alone because they didn’t want to tangle with his dad. Robert Guiscard was a renowned warrior, and on the European Council. He was also known to be fierce and protective of those he cared for. He’d take Ildaria under his protection. Hell, the man would start a war to keep her safe once he knew she and G.G. were life mates. Robert would be disappointed, though, that he still wasn’t agreeing to the turn. Which was why G.G. hadn’t said anything to his mother when he’d spoken to her a couple days ago. He knew she was hoping he’d meet an immortal and wouldn’t be able to resist turning. But he was resisting, and that would disappoint the hell out of her too. It might even crush her. He understood. She didn’t want to have to watch him die, but he just—

H.D. started barking, and G.G. glanced around sharply, surprised to see that they were outside. H.D. was only barking at a squirrel that had dared to come near his patch of grass, but it made G.G. realize that he really did walk around oblivious. He’d been so lost in thought, he’d followed the dog downstairs and outside without paying any attention to anything around him. He could have passed half a dozen Enforcers in the stairwell and out here without noticing. He needed to start paying attention to his surroundings. Ildaria’s life may depend on it.