Chapter Twenty-two

Stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in only a plush towel, Kelsey wriggled her toes on the hardwood. The cabin floor was cold against her bare feet, and she'd give anything for her thermal-lined bedroom slippers, but then again, they weren't exactly the sexiest items in her wardrobe. Now that she'd taken to the bed of a king, she'd have to start thinking like a royal lover. Mentally she searched her drawers back in Laramie, fingering cotton panties and simple camisoles. What she wouldn't do for that foam-green thong from Victoria's Secret right about now. Well, considering that Jared had already ruined one pair of her panties tonight with just the flick of his wrist, he might very well incinerate her little green thong thing.

Thong Thing. It sounded like a creature from another planet, or a bad B-grade sci-fi movie, where Amazonian redheaded women dominated alien lords by simple use of their magnetizing lingerie. She giggled to herself. Yeah, one day really soon, she just might have to see how Jared reacted to Attack of the Thong Thing.

She was still giggling when, stepping in front of his hearth, she shivered, despite the radiating heat. A sweeping chill settled over her skin, one that contradicted the giddy happiness welling within her heart. She glanced about the room. It had no windows—and the bedroom door remained solidly closed. Still, she trembled, tightening the towel about her body for protection. A crawling sensation along her arms reminded her of a feeling she used to get at her father's two-hundred-year-old brick row house back in Virginia. She'd always sworn that place was haunted; she had the exact same sensation right now, as if some unseen person were moving all around her. Staring into the fire, she decided to shake off the feeling. The cabin, after all, was obviously a newer construction, and surely no ghosts hung around here.

When the door to Jared's bedroom creaked, she almost jumped right out of her towel, spinning to see who entered. Jared laughed, his dark eyes crinkling with warm amusement. "Who were you expecting?" he teased, nudging the door open with his broad shoulder. His hands were filled with a tray—champagne and glasses, chocolates. Basically, the alien lord was bogged down with all manner of gifts for her, and she felt her face flush in reaction.

Her creepy imaginings forgotten, she turned to face him, biting on her lower lip. Ridiculous, but she felt shy with him now that he'd returned.

He deposited his small banquet at the foot of his bed, clearly proud of himself. "Would you like some champagne?" he asked, and then frowned suddenly. "Do you even like champagne?"

She heard his unspoken thought— in a certain way they barely knew each other yet, even though they already understood each other's hearts very well.

"I love champagne—but do you like it?" she wanted to know. Just as she wanted to know his favorite music, what books he loved, his favorite colors—other than red—his birthday. Her questions about the man were endless.

He fingered the label of the champagne absently. "Ah, yes, I've a weakness for many human things."

She raised a flirtatious eyebrow. "Quite obviously."

His eyes darkened, turning dusky with sexual heat. "Yes, humans"—he paused, letting his gaze slide down the length of her body—"humans are special to me. They've always been."

"All humans?"

The hunger in his gaze intensified. "One in particular, now."

He reached for her and his bathrobe fell open, revealing his smooth, bronzed chest—and it glowed. Literally. A soft luminescence emanated from his skin, and even his hands exuded subtle power and light. She didn't mean to, but she gaped at his exposed chest a little.

"I suppose you're wondering..." His voice trailed off, and she had to smile at the burnished red color that flooded his cheeks. "Well, you must be wondering about the light," he finally finished, rubbing his chest self-consciously.

"It's all part of the mystery, Jared." She laughed gently. Then she cast a very quick downward look at her own half-concealed body. No glowing. No corona of golden heat ringing her skin. Oddly enough, its absence left her with a hollow feeling in the center of her chest.

He seemed to read her thoughts. "It's because of my other nature," he explained softly, stepping closer toward her.

She looked deep into his eyes. "What does it feel like?"

"Warm. Tingling. Alive." His lips formed a slow, seductive smile. "Arousing."

She opened her palms toward his chest. "Can I touch you there?"

He swallowed visibly and nodded his agreement. She slipped hungry fingers beneath the collar of his robe, and met the velvet warmth of delectable skin. God, she loved the way Jared felt. The smoothness of his chest, only the downiest black hairs dusting his warm golden skin, the allure of it beneath her hand. She slipped both open palms beneath the terry cloth, exploring, rubbing until he gave a soft gasp of pleasure, the robe falling completely open.

"You're right. It's nice and cozy in here," she whispered, and he leaned in close to her until his hot breath fanned against her cheek. He smelled like the earth, all natural and touched by the mountain air. His large hands closed about the center of her back, drawing her closer against him—with her hands she edged his robe farther open until it slipped off his shoulders and he shrugged it to the floor. Before her he stood, a glorious warrior gleaming with otherworldly power and barely restrained sexual heat, and she found herself transfixed by the sheer beauty of the man she'd taken as a lifemate.

She took a step backward, but he grasped for her. "No," he growled low m his chest. "I need you in my arms—not separate from me. Please, mate, I beg you."

"But I want to see you," she explained, her voice a husky shadow of what it normally was. And she did want to see him—desperately wanted to see his fire, displayed all across his skin. But what met her gaze, as she staggered backward momentarily, was the hardened length of him, jutting out toward her with the same kind of devouring hunger she glimpsed on his face. With a single graceful motion, he spun her back into his arms, and with a possessive kiss, he took her. Until his warm chest pressed hard against her collarbone. Until her towel slipped to her ankles. Until she felt swimmy and weak-legged from the rippling sensuality of his embrace.

God, she had never wanted a man so much in her entire life. The shattering passion they'd shared earlier had already managed to multiply many, many times over.

"Look at me, Kelsey." He cupped one hand behind her head, tipping her face upward toward him. "You needn't fear me. Not ever."

"I don't," she said, but the look in his eyes was so fevered, she knew this mattered to him. She lifted a hand to his face, feeling the sandpaper of new stubble beneath her hand. "Jared, I would never be afraid of you."

"But you're trembling," he whispered in a soft voice. "Look at you."

And she was trembling—but definitely not from fear. "Trust me, Jared. It's not fear that's making me shake," she answered with an awkward laugh. Dang it. Even her voice was all fluttery.

His dark eyes narrowed, his face warming visibly. "It is desire," he said in a knowing voice. "Yes, I understand this feeling."

"Besides, you don't scare me. If you did, I would've run at the beginning."

He bowed his head, clearly wrestling with something. "Perhaps you felt compelled then."

"Compelled to what?" she asked incredulously. "To love you? To follow you any place you'd lead me?"

His mouth turned upward in a sideways, grudging smile. "Well, when you put it that way ..."

"Why does this keep coming up?" she asked, wanting him reassured once and for all. "I feel so safe with you, Jared. You always make me feel that way."

"I am fearsome, Kelsey. You have seen it" He bowed his head again, his jaw tightening, but he said no more, and instead lifted both hands to cup her shoulders. Heat radiated from his palms. Genuine power. And really, she could understand another woman potentially fearing him—but not when his wilder nature was tempered by such uncompromising strength and goodness.

"No, what I've seen is a man who is beautiful," she told him. "Handsome. So many things I never even dreamed about. My heart's desire, Jared. That's what you are."

He dropped his hands from her shoulders. "For so many years, I didn't believe I'd find a woman like you," he whispered, emotion glinting in his dark eyes. "I didn't remember you, so I couldn't let myself hope. Not with my life the way it is. Who would stand with me? Who would love a man who'd done the things I have?" He gazed downward at his open palms, shaking his head. "You still have no idea—not really—of what or who I am, Kelsey."

"I know your heart, Jared. I've seen your soul. That's all I need to know right now."

His eyes widened, ringed with emotion for a long, silent moment, and then with an almost pained cry he captured her mouth roughly with his own. His tongue sought hers, his hands moving all over her body as if needing to learn the shape of her.

Jared wanted everything about Kelsey. Her body, her mind, her soul, her spirit, her hunger for life and learning— everything he could taste across their newly formed bond. But if he didn't have her physically again, now, he thought he'd absolutely explode with pent-up need.

"Kelsey." He panted in her ear, stroking his fingers beneath the soft curve of her bottom until he found her wet heat. "I need to join again, Kelsey. I need to bond anew." Even as one part of his mind reminded him that he spoke of Refarian ways, another couldn't silence the need. To join—in body, soul, and mind—was the height of satiation for a Refarian.

"So do I," she agreed without hesitation. Did she even understand what he craved more than his next breath? Now as full bondmates he could lead her into deeper places— things she'd only begun to glimpse in their lovemaking.

He dragged her back toward the bed, avoiding the tray and champagne bottle. With a deft move, he spun her so that she fell backward beneath him, her hips settling right on the edge of the mattress. Not a bad strategy, he commended himself, nudging her legs apart with his upper thigh. She lay on her back gazing up at him, and he positioned his erection right between her legs, barely able to restrain himself from plunging deep inside the woman. But not yet, he cautioned himself. Pleasure her, ravenous king. She longs for it. Take her to an unknown, sweet place...

Hitching his hands beneath each of her knees, he lifted her thighs around his hips, drawing her tight around him. With a painfully gentle gesture, he pressed against her opening—so warm, so ready for him—and teased her. Nudging, stroking her with his length. Beneath him, she gasped her urgent need, but he planned to take his time. With a shiver of desire, he lifted his open palm and slowly rubbed it across one of her breasts, the nipple beading in reaction to his caress. She squirmed beneath his stroking; he felt the aching crescendo of her lust wrapping itself around his mind—impossible not to feel it across their bond, its pulsing heat slamming into his every awareness.

Take me, he heard. Jared, just do it!

He bent low over her, leaning heavily on one forearm, and showered her chest with kisses, suckling on first one breast and then the other. You are ready? Her hot breath warmed his cheek as she reached to cup his face in both of her gentle hands.

Oh, God, what do you think?

I think you are enjoying yourself very much. He groaned across the thin barrier separating the two of them. I think I should not rush things, he teased.

She tugged his head down against her chest, holding him hard. Do it!

He laughed softly, climbing past her and into the center of the bed. "Not yet, love." With a dramatic gesture, he reached beneath her and folded back his dark bedspread, revealing the edges of pale cream satin sheets. His people were always insisting on some modicum of royal treatment for their king, and for once he didn't disdain their showy pampering.

Kelsey sat up, her mouth swollen from his kisses; she reached with one hand, gingerly stroking the top edge of the satin sheet. He felt a surge of pride: That he could offer her something indulgent and sensuous here in his war camp gave him a heated thrill. She was his mate. Here, in this chamber, he could worship her completely.

He drew back the covers in silent invitation, and with the sweetest of smiles she slipped her bare body underneath. "Ooh," she whispered huskily, "these feel nice, Jared."

He growled his own pleasure, sliding his heated body beside hers. Whenever he was around her, he couldn't seem to constrain his soft growls and rumbles of desire, even though he knew his Refarian expressions had to be alien to her. Still, as he nestled against her, tugging her hips flush to his, another ardent growl escaped his chest.

She smiled seductively at him. "I have an idea."

Nuzzling her collarbone, he suckled at the tender flesh there. "Umm, does it involve interspecies bed-play?" he purred, ready to take her at any moment.

"Here," she instructed, giving his shoulder a light shove. "You roll onto your back."

He blinked up at her, curious, and did exactly as she guided him to do. Closing his eyes, he shivered in anticipation. He heard the rustle of covers, the shifting of her position, and then something light tickled his thighs, causing his abdomen to knot with fevered expectation. Then the sweetest pleasure possible…her mouth. The unexpected warmth of it closed over his shaft. His eyes flew open and he found her head bent low over him, her thick curls spread across his thighs. He dragged his fingers through that auburn hair, desperate to hold himself back. Groaning, he thrust upward beneath her licking and sucking, his hips riding off the mattress again and again. He was absolutely desperate for more. He wanted it deeper, harder. Gods, if she didn't stop . . .

But she didn't stop. The sensations increased in their fury and intensity, and it was all he could do not to release himself right in her mouth. "Kelsey," he nearly begged, writhing convulsively as her warm mouth drew in even more of him. In all his days, no woman had ever pleasured him quite so intensely. No woman—not even in bed—would dare be so intimate with the king. Kelse, please, love, please. Please!

What was he even begging her to do? To stop or to take him deeper still? Even he wasn't sure of what he really wanted. With an agonized gesture, he tugged at her arm, and she released him, sitting upright. She blinked in confusion and he explained shakily, "You . . . must . . ."

"Danger zone?" she teased, rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand.

His only reply was a trembling groan of delight. This lit her up, from the inside out. Leaning onto her side next to him, she began her next temptation—she took him within her hand and began rubbing him back and forth until he nearly came right within her palm.

"Kelsey!" He placed a stilling hand over hers. Gods, it killed him to stop her, that heated friction she was creating, the back-and-forth over his erection and the soft folds of his skin. A low growl rumbled out of his chest, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Sucking in burning gasps of air, he wrestled to still the tremors that shook his whole body.

He cursed low in Refarian, shaking his head. To even lay hold of any English seemed impossible, so he reached for her, pulling her right against his side. "L'bashata," he groaned, sure that if she so much as touched him again down there, he would let loose everything he had.

"La Bashta?" she repeated, almost getting the word right. He groaned, leaning back into the pillows, smiling.

"No good . . . translation," he managed, then flipped her onto her back. The words meant roughly "hot-blooded, fast-handed woman." That was one phrase he'd definitely be keeping to himself.

"Why'd you want me to stop?" Her voice was pure innocence, as she slipped that highly arousing hand between his legs once again. In response, he released such a thunderous cry, he feared the whole camp would know their king was being scandalously pleasured. Then again, it was hardly a scandal to bed your wife…was it?

"Because I don't want to spend…my seed…myself… outside of you." He gasped hungrily, pulling her scent into his body. "I want inside. Outside is ... good ... but...." He groaned at his inability to express himself in human words.

She studied him in surprise. "Don't Refarian men like being touched?" she asked, suddenly unsure of her seduction routine. What if it were somehow painful for him? Or too much? She'd never seen a man respond so strongly to her touch.

"We like everything!" he blurted, and she laughed until he flushed in shock at his own bald remark. With a self-conscious gesture, he lifted his hand to his head, rubbing his open palm over the short, spiky hairs.

"Everything, huh?" she whispered, languidly moving closer. "Just precisely what qualifies as everything, my lord? Hmm?"

"Am I your king now?" He panted as she hovered over him, turning her head first one way, and then another as she studied him. "For if I'm your king," he said, "then I may instruct you as to my pleasuring, may I not?"

She cocked both eyebrows upward in mock surprise, enjoying his flustered reaction to her flirtatious sexuality. "Is that what you did before I came along? You issued royal orders for this sort of thing?"

He shook his head, swallowing visibly. "No, love." She closed one hand around his shaft again, slowly stroking and rubbing, increasing her friction, until with a shiver he arched back into the pillows and growled his pleasure.

She'd never met a more physically sensitive man in all her life. It had to be a Refarian thing. Earlier they'd been so focused on other activities that she hadn't really recognized his extreme reactions to her touch.

This could prove most interesting, she realized, and reached for the comer of his silken sheet. Drawing it down over him, she draped his hips, slowly sheathing him in the slick material, slipping it back and forth over his erection. Each time she caressed him, he released a rumbling sound the likes of which she'd never heard from a human man before. It was a low-pitched howl of desire that made every hair on her body bristle with answering lust.

"I thought you were going to command me," she teased, sliding the cool satin between his thighs, parting his legs with it until he spread wide for her with a satisfied sigh. She enjoyed watching the painful play of ecstasy on Jared's face—and most especially knowing she was the cause of it. "Don't you have some royal orders right now, my lord?" she asked, increasing the pressure of her stroking just enough to elicit yet another war cry from her mate.

His eyes tightly closed, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "None necessary."

"Shall I continue?" she purred, but his only reply was to throw his head back in lusty enthusiasm. That was a definite yes. Again she wrapped his erection in the sheath of material, stroking him with a fevered pressure. "Ah, Kelsey." He said nothing more, simply repeated her name like the most joyous of chants, over and over, lost in the pleasure she offered him.

At last, he clasped her by the wrist, shaking his head. "Stop, love!" he cried out. "You must cease." Or he would obviously spill himself all over that satin sheet, and never get inside of her. She understood. And she had to agree with his assessment of their predicament. She lay there on her side, her head propped on one elbow, feeling mightily pleased with herself.

"So, Jared, what else should I know about your people?" she asked in a throaty voice. She was only partly joking.

Opening his muscled, dark arms to her, he wrapped her against his side. "Not now," he said.

Now this had her curious—apparently there was something more she needed to know, but with both of his large, golden-skinned hands he grasped her, urging her closer. "Please, mate," he moaned in a tight voice, "let me bed you."

With a flash of barely concealed energy, he pushed her down into the mattress. In that half second, he moved from being the pleasured to being her master. God, he was heavy— she hadn't felt the full weight of his large, solid frame either of their earlier times of making love, but now—oh God, she thought, feeling his hugeness atop her—the alien nearly knocked the breath out of her lungs.

Easing himself between her legs, Jared settled his hips atop hers. There were so many ways he longed to join with her—ways he knew she didn't yet understand. His own people's ways. There would be time for such. Right now he hungered to plunge deep within her warmth, to feel her all about him. He lifted a hand to her cheek, brushing curls away so he could gaze into her clear, lovely eyes. He yearned to take her to the same ecstatic pinnacle she'd been drawing him toward.

"Now you're shaking," she whispered, capturing his unsteady hand against her cheek.

Swallowing hard, he nodded. "The . . . intensity," he managed to get out, though some distant, Refarian-accented voice told him his body's reaction to her was far more complex than that. Only an hour had passed since they'd initially mated, and already ever-spiraling heat swirled through his body.

For a silent, profound moment, they just stared into each other's eyes. He searched her face, sought to believe she accepted all that he was. God, she had no idea. No true notion of all that his alienness might mean, especially in their marriage bed. As if reading his thoughts—which, perhaps, she had done—she lifted silencing fingers to his lips.

"Come inside me, Jared," she urged, bucking her hips upward against his. "Don't keep teasing me."

Burying his face in her hair, he released a pent-up growl of yearning, and thrust within her. And then they stilled, lost in each other, as his soul met such an explosion of color as he'd never known before. Purest gold showering over him, brilliant magenta caressing him. "Ah! Kelsha, nyaat lansvari! A cascade of love pledges tumbled through his mind, none in English. He was a dolt at translating his love for her when they were in the throes of lovemaking.

He gave a gentle thrust of his hips: she threw her head back, crying out her pleasure, the smooth, creamy skin of her neck exposed to him. Nibbling her there, he kissed and licked her, feeling her warm hands cupping him from behind, urging him deeper. Fuller.

Flashes of golden-eyed purples, wavering teals. His lover's soul was a beautiful otherworldly tapestry. He wasn't sure what brought him more rapture at the moment—her soul joining or her lovemaking.

Warm hands pulled at his upper thighs, holding on for a harder ride. She seemed to be demanding it, requiring it; he let all gentleness fall away, pushing and thrusting and driving into her with his unrestrained warrior's needs.

She met every thrust. Every dip of his hips, she answered with a thrilling charge upward, her cries keening across his mind. And then suddenly, she shoved at his chest, both open palms forcing him apart from her—as if she meant to stop him. Shaking his head dazedly, he stared down at her. "What, love?" he asked, panic teasing at the edges of his awareness. Had he been too rough? Too hungry? Too alien? "What've I done, love?"

She settled into the pillows beneath him, fingering both of his nipples as she studied him. "I just wanted…." She stared up at him, blinking her eyes, which glimmered like royal jewels, and shook her head. A strange smile played at the edges of her full mouth.

"More? Or was it too much?" he rushed. "I can go slower—faster?" Gods, he was in a full-throttle shambles. It had been too damned long since he'd taken a lover; he was useless in bed—that had to be it.

"Shh," she whispered, caressing her fingertips over his neck, his chest. "I just wanted to slow down a little."

"I am sorry for being so clumsy," he apologized. "Too much time in warfare—" he began to lament, but she lifted upward, covering his mouth with her own to silence him. Her tongue teased his lips open, twining and mating with his own. She tasted human. She tasted like no other woman he had ever lain with in his life. She tasted and smelled like his mate.

I wanted you to slow down, Jared, she explained, the words a gentle sigh across his soul's edge. That's all. You know how perfect this is—you are. All I've ever felt is your perfection.

Panting, he broke the kiss, "I have never felt this," he blurted, hardly able to breathe for the tightness their bond had formed in his chest; he was reminded of a hunter's bow, strung impossibly taut.

"Hard to breathe," she agreed, swallowing hard.

"Need to ... finish." He gulped, his voice hoarse beyond recognition. Warm hands clasped his hips, taking hold again. Burying his face against her cheek, he slid his own palms beneath her, cupping her full, round bottom. With his mouth, he nuzzled her collarbone, nipping at the soft, exposed skin there.

Kelsey felt the' enormous hard length of him and she struggled to breathe with every fevered thrust he made. His body was on fire—ravaged by fever—and he didn't even seem to realize it. It was just as when he'd first returned to the bedroom, his entire body golden, only now the raging heat had pooled most intensely within his groin area. It felt as if a blazing sword, lifted straight from a forge, were being dipped within her, over and over again. A sorcerer's sword, capable of bringing light and pleasure and love beyond knowing.

The alien was just so damn big! She'd never had a lover so large—Refarians were definitely built to last. And last and last and last. He seemed never to tire, as he led her to the highest crescendo of pleasure, only to send her soaring even higher the longer he tumbled with her in the bed.

They rolled in each other's arms, panting and crying— real tears at one point in both of their eyes. They grew still, tangled in his satin sheets at the singular moment when their souls—which they'd already felt touching and pressing against each other all through their lovemaking—seemed to weave together, blazing so hot between them that for a full minute, neither could speak or breathe or even move.

"Oh, gods," he finally moaned with a shuddering reaction inside of her, rolling her atop him again. Yet still he forged ahead strongly, hard and full and raging hot, their souls clasping as tightly as their physical bodies did.

Atop him, she had a quiet, centered moment to gaze upon her mate. To take in his lean, dark face, colored the golden red of Native American skin as much as it was the dusky olive of an Italian. Beautiful beyond comparing to any race on this planet, Jared's exotic, Refarian features made her blood burn. Made her feel feral and untamed; maybe that was what happened with his people in bed. She wasn't sure, and raising herself up slightly, she reached between her own legs to stroke the man while rocking atop him. Now, this . . . this touch finally did her king in.

With one blinding cry of pleasure, he arched his back, pressed his eyes shut, and let loose the rumbling growl of a warrior-beast, shuddering all the way up inside her core. He squirmed and bucked upward so hard he lifted her right up with him, murmuring, "Gods, Kelse, gods . . . never so sweet. So beautiful. Never before."

"Me neither," she agreed, feeling tears of joy fill her eyes.

Collapsing atop him, she lost herself in all the royal colors that sped through her senses—Jared's colors, blazing within her soul.