After he destroyed the amulet, he turned his concentration to the fire that still blazed in places. Pulling hard, he drew the flames back into him. For a brief time he was immersed in fire. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he let his consciousness be immersed in the brilliant heat.
When it subsided, he contacted Aryal telepathically. The herd of infected here are all incinerated. I killed a couple of Hounds, but I didn’t manage to kill Morgan. He’s gone.
Too bad, the harpy said. Vindictiveness tinged her voice, like the sharp edge of her claws. You okay?
Yes. Morgan gave me the source of the contagion. It was magical in nature. I’ve destroyed it. As he talked, he launched into the air. I’m going back to Tatiana’s. Work with Shane until you’re sure the rest of the infected are burned. I might have destroyed the source, but they can still spread the contagion through their bites. Report back when you are all confident the job is done.
Understood.
There was no way Dragos was going to show up at Tatiana’s without making sure he had gotten rid of any lingering traces of the amulet. Flying due west for a half a mile or so, he dove into the ocean until he reached the sandy floor. Scooping up clawfuls of sand, he surfaced again and scrubbed at himself until he felt certain that he was entirely clean.
Only then did he head back to Bel Air, winging through the distance at a tired, leisurely pace.
This time, he landed a couple of blocks down the street and shapeshifted back into a man so that he could walk the rest of the way toward the large, sprawling mansion. The sun had not yet set, but it was low enough in the sky that it had gone down below the silhouette of the surrounding houses, throwing deep shadows across the lawns and the street.
As he walked, he admired the ultra-landscaped lawns in front of the other Bel Air properties. He said in Pia’s head, I’m so glad we don’t have a lot of flowers and other plant froufrou around our house. I’d never feel comfortable about shapeshifting, in case I accidentally knocked shit over with my tail, or trampled a rose garden.
Which is exactly why we don’t have all that. There was a smile in Pia’s voice as she replied. Between you, Liam, all of the sentinels and various other Wyr, if we had any kind of fancy garden, it would get trampled to dirt inside of a month. If you can chitchat lawn care, should I take it to mean that whatever situation was out there is taken care of?
Yes, you should. I’m walking up to Tatiana’s house right now. I’ll tell you about it later. He paused. He hadn’t had anything to do with either the interior design or landscaping of the house. Pia had done all of that, and she had thought everything through very thoroughly. He told her, You are a wise woman.
Pleasure warmed her voice. I do have my moments, don’t I? But then … I have other moments too. Dragos, I have to confess something. Tatiana nailed me down about your memory loss, and I couldn’t find a way to wiggle out of admitting the truth.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, he sighed. He felt a brief impulse to strangle the Light Fae Queen. How much does she know?
Well … pretty much an abbreviated version of everything. I never would have volunteered to tell her anything, but she had already guessed that the contagion hadn’t really messed with your thinking. She told me quite a story, both how she and Isabeau became estranged, and also something of your time at the Seelie Court.
Briefly, he wrestled with his pride, and pragmatism won. Did she give you any indication what I was doing at Isabeau’s Court?
Not really. She indulged in some speculation, but she didn’t know anything for sure. She said you and Isabeau sort of flirted, but sort of acted edgy around each other. She didn’t know if you were ever lovers, or even if you had parted on friendly terms.
As Pia talked, he grew close enough that Tatiana’s mansion came into view.
He told her, I don’t remember any other lover but you.
I don’t believe you.
I don’t. I know the facts of other lovers, but all the real, visceral memory, or any emotion has burned away. Those lovers happened to someone else, the man I was before I met you.
She had stepped out onto the lawn. Eva and a couple of vigilant Light Fae guards stood with her, but as the Light Fae guards were actually guarding her, he didn’t mind them so much. When they saw him, they didn’t draw their weapons. Another win for the day.
Pia saw him at the same time. He started walking faster, and she gathered her skirt up in one hand and broke into a run. She flew down the driveway, and the eager light on her face was simply everything.
She hit him in the chest with her full weight, flinging her arms around his neck. Laughing, he spread his feet wide to absorb the impact and snatched her close. She held him so tightly, she damn near strangled him, and he knew he all but crushed her ribs.
Burying his face into her neck, he growled, “I hated not being able to touch you.”
“I know. I felt the same.” Greedily, she stroked the back of his head, and his shoulders. “You’re okay? Quentin and Aryal—they’re okay?”
“They’re fine. From the way Aryal talked, I believe Shane is fine too, but I don’t know anything about Shane’s men.” He rubbed his face in her hair, tightened his arms until she squeaked, then eased his hold on her. “Come on, let’s go inside. That way I can tell this story just once.”
Together, they turned and walked to the house. He kept his arm around her shoulders, and she slipped an arm around his waist. She told him telepathically, I gave myself the injection.
He had no longer been worried, but still, the confirmation lightened his spirits. Good. That means you’re going to feel tired and achy—or do you feel that way already?
I’m pretty tired, she admitted.
She never complained about it. Not once. Everything she said about the pregnancy was filled with a positive attitude and eagerness for the new arrival. He replied, I take it that means you do feel achy too.
She shrugged. It’s okay.
He tightened his arm around her shoulders and said aloud, “And that means you need to go to bed soon. See, I’m figuring out your encoded messages.”
She gave him a brief, laughing glance.
Tatiana herself came to the front door, meeting them as they were about to step in. She smiled at him. “I just heard from Bailey. They have a few areas they need to scour, but she thinks the tide has turned now.”
“It has,” Dragos said.
“Come back to the family room and tell me what happened.” Turning, she led the way to the back of the house.
Settling on one of the couches, with Pia curled at his side, he told Tatiana and Pia about the encounter with Morgan, and the amulet, which he had destroyed.
“I don’t know how she could let something like that loose in the world,” Tatiana murmured, looking ill. “We skirted so close to catastrophe. As it is, I’ve lost hundreds of my people.”
Something teased at the back of his mind, and he paused, waiting to see what came of the sensation. It felt like memory … or almost a memory. Then, in the next instance, the feeling was gone. Frustrated, he shook his head.
“Isabeau needs to die,” he said crisply. Pia rested her head on his shoulder, and he pressed a brief kiss to her forehead. “But then, so many people do. And the reality of it is, she’s very well guarded. She has full control over her Other land, and her Hounds appear to be completely loyal to her. And Morgan is—formidable. I’ll never understand how obsessive people can command such fanatic loyalty.”
“Well, she has more than her fair share of the Light Fae charisma, which would help.” Tatiana’s gaze fell to Pia. Suddenly her face softened, and she smiled. Looking back up at Dragos, she put a finger to her lips.
He raised his eyebrows. Then he tilted his head to look into Pia’s face. She had fallen deeply asleep. Her lashes cast long shadows on the curve of her cheeks, and her soft, full mouth had gone lax.
She whispered, “I remember those days too, when I was pregnant.”
“Tatiana,” he said in a soft, gentle voice, so as not to disturb his sleeping wife, “if you try to kick me out tonight, I’ll make it my personal mission to tear Bel Air down around your ears.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Tatiana said quietly. “You have helped us tremendously today, and I am very grateful. We still need to adhere to the terms of the diplomatic pact, but I think we can get away with you staying one night. And frankly, what you choose to do with the rest of your week is none of my business. I’m certainly not going to be spying on you, should you and Pia meet up somewhere while she is out and about this week.”
“Thank you,” he said, relaxing.
“For tonight, I’ll have one of my guards show you where her suite is.”
The Queen stood, and he gathered Pia’s warm, soft weight into his arms and stood also. Then he paused. One other thing, he said telepathically.
Tatiana paused as well, and looked at him inquiringly.
Don’t poke at my wife about her Wyr form, he said. He gave her one of his hardest warning looks. I mean it, Tatiana. Leave her alone about it. She told me you had questioned her in D.C. Her Wyr form is shy by nature, and in the early days of our mating, it was a real strain for her to contemplate being with me. She gave up a lot to be my mate. She’s had to adapt to the limelight, and I won’t have her bullied or pressured over it.
The Light Fae Queen pursed her lips in a disappointed moue. Oh, very well. She paused. By the way, I’ve heard a preliminary report from my doctors who are studying your blood samples. They’re quite electrified at what they’re finding. They think they’ve isolated the contagion and might be able to develop something from it, which will be hugely useful if there are any more outbreaks. Also, apparently your blood is intensely magical in nature, but then nobody is surprised by that. And there’s something else—something truly unique, and they don’t know quite what to make of it.
Pia had already tried to heal him before his blood had been drawn. Was it something from her, or was it something inherent to him? Had she healed him after all?
Maybe the protocol had suppressed her nature but had not entirely negated it. Her blood might have worked, but very slowly. Or perhaps he had thrown off the effects of the contagion, himself.
They would never know for sure.
For now, he injected scorn into his mental voice. Tell me, have any of your doctors ever studied dragon’s blood before?
Her brows twitched together. You know they have not.
He snorted. Then of course it’s truly unique.
Cocking her head, she smiled wryly. You do have a point.
He reached out for Grym. I hear they’ve isolated the contagion.
They sure have, and in record time, Grym said. There’s a celebratory air right now in this lab.
Time to destroy all the blood samples. Make sure they’re incinerated, so that not a single cell is left.
You got it. Oh, the weeping and gnashing of teeth that will shortly commence.
Dragos smiled to himself. They hadn’t preserved every one of their secrets. But they had managed to preserve the most important one.
Then Tatiana stepped to the door, opened it, and he carried Pia through to the hallway, and up to the suite.
* * *
Pia walked along her favorite trail, enjoying the fall colors.
Wait a minute. She had already done this before. Remembering jolted her so that she realized she was dreaming.
Tilting her head, she walked slowly and listened for a small, stealthy rustle. Sure enough, she heard it, behind her and a little to the left.
She didn’t turn around or do anything to spook her small shadow. Instead, pretending to ignore it, she walked along slowly, thinking.
Soon, she came to an area where the trail opened up and the land flattened to form a high, grassy meadow atop a bluff that overlooked the land’s long decline. Eventually that decline would lead to their house, which was half hidden by the surrounding trees. Beyond the house lay the flat blue shimmer of the nearby lake.
Strolling through the small meadow, she picked a spot and settled cross-legged on the ground, looking over the countryside. The scene was beautiful, with rolling hills covered with the brilliant gold, yellow and vermillion of the fall foliage. She loved everything about upstate New York in the autumn.
A small rustle might be approaching. Happiness filled her. Cocking her head, she listened to the slight, cautious sounds behind her and fought not to laugh. What would her shadow decide to do now?
Something sharp poked her in the lower back, over her left kidney. She swept a hand behind her to move the stick, or weed, or whatever it was, but her hand encountered nothing but air.
Hm.
The sharp something poked her again.
Moving gently, so as to not frighten the wary shadow away, she twisted to look over her shoulder.
Underneath the slender spire of a horn, fierce gold eyes looked back at her.
Oh, holy gods. She froze. She didn’t even dare to breathe.
The small creature standing just behind her shoulder was … was …
It was small like a newborn foal, all gangly legs and overlarge head, with a narrow, racy body. And it was dark bronze all over, almost exactly the same shade that Dragos was in his dragon form, with the colors darkening to black at the legs, nose and tail.
And it had that slender horn at the middle of its forehead. The horn would lengthen and sharpen as it grew to adulthood, but for now, it was short and well suited for a baby’s developing neck muscles.
“Oh, Stinkpot,” she whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”
And so frightening.
This was the creature that carried the fiery Power that Liam had sensed. Those eyes, that coloring, were so like Dragos. If its personality was as fiery as its Power, it would have a royal temper. A temper that might even override all the instincts of its Wyr nature, instincts that would urge it to run and hide, or take the less obvious path to avoid detection and danger.
Swishing its tail, Stinkpot bent its head to nibble at the yellowing grass. While it acted like it was distracted, Pia carefully, carefully tightened her stomach muscles and leaned back to see if she could catch a glimpse between its slender, gangly legs.
Oh my God. Stinkpot was male. Delight, wonder and sheer terror clanged through her head like a three-bell alarm.
She whispered, “Are you okay if I pick you up now, darling?”
At the sound of her voice, Stinkpot flicked an ear but didn’t appear to be otherwise concerned. Moving slowly and gently, she twisted around to stroke his neck. His body was that of a newborn foal, but he carried the promise of power in the regal arch of his neck, and in the deep width of his chest.
He would be fast, she knew. Faster than almost anybody else, and he would be able to run for miles without tiring. She could see it all too well in her mind’s eye. He would be talented at running all right, but instead of running away from danger, he would run straight toward it.
Stinkpot shifted and reached, as if to nibble at another blade of grass. It also happened to bring his neck closer underneath her hand, so that she could scratch more skin.
“I see what you’re about now, young man,” she crooned gently. “And I already know that you’re going to like keeping your secrets. Are you going to be sneaky too like your daddy?”
He let out a whuffle, as if agreeing, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. Reaching around him, she picked him up and gathered him close. He didn’t protest or struggle. As she settled him in her lap, he folded those ridiculous, overlong legs and tucked his head in the crook of her arm. Bending over him, she buried her face in the thick, coarse hair of his mane.
Funny how love works. Peanut had stolen her heart, and she adored Liam with all of her being. Now Stinkpot stole her heart all over again.
Both her sons were thieves, yet somehow she felt her heart still in her chest, beating hard from wonder, and it was full to bursting.
A large hand cupped her hip, traveled up the curve of her torso and flattened against the middle of her chest. Dragos murmured in her ear, “Pia, it’s all right. You’re just having a nightmare. Wake up.”
As she startled, the dream vanished.
“Ssh, calm down.” Dragos’s voice was slow, deep and easy. He kissed the back of her neck. “Your heart is racing ninety miles an hour.”
“Mm,” she croaked, her voice rusty from sleep. Lifting her head off the pillow and squinting, she looked around to get her bearings.
They were in bed together, in her suite at Tatiana’s residence. The room lay in deep shadows, so it was some time in the middle of the night. Somehow she had lost her clothing, and Dragos had too. She knew who the culprit was for that. He spooned her from behind, under the bedcovers, his larger, harder body providing a protective shell around her.
Their position was so familiar, so necessary, that even though they were still in southern California, a sense of well-being flowed through her, along with a feeling of being home.
Stretching, she yawned and twisted around to cuddle closer against him. As she rested her cheek against his warm, bare skin, she let her fingers follow the pattern of dark, silky hair that fanned across his wide, bare chest.
He cupped the side of her face, cradling her, and she felt warm, relaxed, completely protected and surrounded.
“Does Tatiana know you’re here?” she mumbled.
“Yes.” His deep voice was a quiet rumble in his chest. “We both agreed the circumstances of the day had been unusual enough that nobody would have a problem if I stayed for tonight. Are you still up for visiting the rest of the week with her? We can call this whole thing quits and go home in the morning, if you’d rather.”
“And have to possibly come back again? Not on your life.” Yawning again, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “There’s only six more days to go, and then the whole damn thing is over. Although I shudder to think what tomorrow will hold. What do you think—flood, fire or act of the gods?”
He snorted and pressed his mouth to her forehead. “What were you dreaming about?”
Remembering, she smiled with a small wordless croon. “It wasn’t a nightmare. I was dreaming about Stinkpot.”
“Really?” A smile entered his voice. “I’m sorry I woke you, then. Your heart was racing so hard, it woke me up.”
“S’okay.” Rubbing her face against his skin, she murmured in his head, Do you want to know what I dreamed, or do you want to be surprised?
You can surprise me right now. Easing her gently back on the bed, he kissed her lightly.
Telepathizing in bed was one of her very favorite things to do. They could have entire conversations while kissing like horny teenagers. The only problem with it was she lost control of her train of thought. That, and often her verbal skills degenerated to things like: Holy shit, do that again. My God! Ah, so good … please—please—
Smiling at the thought, she inserted the palm of one hand between their lips so that he couldn’t distract her into incoherency. She told him, Stinkpot is a gorgeous, wary, sneaky little boy. He’s got your coloring and my Wyr form. And from what Liam was picking up, possibly your Power and temper.
Dragos froze. She could just about feel the wheels turning in his head. After a moment, he said, Good gods.
Terrified glee suffused her. Sticking her tongue between her teeth, she fizzed like uncorked champagne. Raising that kid is going to kill us both dead.
Goddamn, Dragos muttered. Just thinking about it might kill me dead. I can’t wait to meet the little booger. He sounds amazing.
He is, and I can’t wait for you to meet him too. Sobering, she threw her arms around his neck. I’m so happy you didn’t turn. I think I might have gone a little crazy today. I had all these manic ideas about converting our basement into a big jail cell and keeping you chained up down there until I gave birth to Stinkpot, so that I could try to heal you then.
It’s okay. Everything is okay now. His arms closed around her tightly. What do you remember of what I was telling Tatiana?
Not much. Burying her face against him, she inhaled his healthy, clean scent. I fell asleep a few minutes after we sat on the couch.
With a few quick, concise sentences, he filled her in on the conversation. The lab has the contagion isolated, and Grym let me know about forty-five minutes ago that he personally destroyed all the blood samples. Quentin and Aryal are still out with Shane. They’re combing through neighborhoods street by street, but they haven’t found any more infected for a few hours now. Right now, they just want to err on the side of caution before calling an end to the search.
She lay still, absorbing the news. And you’re sure Morgan has gone?
I’m certain he has, after giving me the amulet. He said he had done what he was commanded to do. Dragos paused. His voice turned darker and edged. I should have known who he was. I should have remembered him. He’s very dangerous, Pia. He walked through my dragonfire unscathed, and he blocked every attempt I made to get at him.
If he’s not Light Fae, then what is he? Could you tell?
He shook his head. There was too much fire burning all around us, so I couldn’t get his scent. Just from looking at him, I think he has some human blood. But he’s clearly not fully human. He was faster and could jump much farther than a human could.
She shivered. Now I understand why you’ve been so obsessive about trying to recover those lost memories.
You never know. Something may still come back to me.
He didn’t sound convinced of that, and neither was she. The longer he went without recovering those memories, the less likely it was that he would ever recall them. Dr. Shaw had made it very clear. They would have to live with the consequences of that fact and be grateful that he had recovered as many memories as he had.
Shrugging it off, Dragos leaned over her again. Enough about him. We have the rest of tonight before your week resumes, and I intend on taking full advantage of it.
Gladly, she surrendered to the change in focus. Ooh, she crooned, running her fingers lightly along the powerful bulk of his shoulders. The silhouette of his body was darker than the rest of the room, as he eclipsed the night. From the darkest part of the shadow, she caught a glint of his intent gold eyes. What do you have in mind?
It was too dark for her to see his smile, but she could hear it in his voice. Probably too many things for the amount of time that we’ve got, but you never know. I’m an ambitious man.
Settling back against her pillow, she whispered, “Let’s take everything on your list one at a time and see where we get.”
“Item one,” he growled quietly. The intense shadow moved, and suddenly his mouth was on hers, hard, hot and demanding.
Desire surged through her veins, burning away logic and common sense. In that moment, he could have asked her for anything, and she would have agreed gladly.
Thrusting his tongue into her mouth, he ran a greedy hand down the curves of her body, pinching and flicking at her nipple with a thumbnail and kneading the soft, full flesh of her breast, while the hard length of his erection pressed against her hip.
It could never be boring between them. All their lovemaking over the last eighteen months had conditioned her to associate his touch with such extreme pleasures that all he had to do was touch her hand and give her that keen, hard smile of his, and she melted into liquid heat. Her body was greedy for it, for him, and the thought of what they would do—what he would do to her—made the muscles in her thighs start to shake.
I can smell it on you, he muttered in her head. Your arousal. It makes me so damn hungry. You’re already wet, aren’t you?
Uh huh, she whimpered.
Wiggling under the heavy weight of his large body, she ran her own hand along the long length of his torso. His hot skin felt like silk wrapped over iron muscles. When her questing fingers found the tip of his cock, they both groaned. His own mounting arousal had caused moisture to bead at the slit. Using the ball of her thumb, she took the moisture and rubbed it along the broad, mushroom head, until he hissed and grabbed at her wrist.
Sometimes he could let her tease him, and then other times, like now, his dominant side took over. She was more than happy to go with either scenario. Pinning her wrists on either side of her head, he growled telepathically, Open your legs.
Hunger pulsed. God, she loved it when he got growly and autocratic. Arching in a stretch that rubbed her torso against his, she put her mouth lightly against his and whispered, “Make me.”
He stilled. Then it was as if she had thrown a lit match on a lake of gasoline. Everything went up in flames.
Yanking her legs apart, he settled into place at the intimate bowl of her pelvis. When she would have reached to help guide his erection into place, he snatched at her wrists again. This time he pinned them over her head with one massive hand.
Testing the strength of his hold, she struggled to get free, although not that seriously. He liked it when she struggled. It struck at some deep predatory part of him that they both recognized and embraced as part of their extensive repertoire of love play.
As she twisted underneath his weight, the growl that came out of his throat was so low and aggressive, the tiny hairs at the back of her neck raised. God, that sound made her wetter than ever. She wanted to take his cock into her mouth and pump him dry. She wanted him to thrust inside her, and thrust, and thrust….
Restlessly she tried to wrap her legs around his hips, but with his free hand, he thrust her back down on the bed. Then, keeping her pinned, he bent to suckle at her breasts, first one then the other, flicking and teasing the stiff peaks of her nipples with his tongue in between drawing hard so that sensations sizzled down the length of her body.
The hunger for his touch grew harder to control, throbbing in time with the pull of his mouth. Physically aching for his touch, she whimpered and started to struggle in earnest, but he wouldn’t release her.
“Dragos,” she hissed urgently.
In response, he lifted his hand from her pelvis.
Only to lay the broad, hard palm over her mouth.
Of course he wasn’t gagging her, not really, since they could telepathize, but the move was so dark and primitive, she almost came right then and there, without him ever touching her clitoris.
Shaken at her own response to the maneuver, she groaned. The sound was small and muffled against the palm of his hand. Her breathing came hard and fast, the expelled air from her nostrils hitting his skin in short, hard puffs.
He paused. He was breathing hard too. She could hear the rasp of it, a tiny, raw sound that told her how close he was to losing control. He asked her telepathically, Okay?
I almost came just now without you touching me! she exclaimed. How okay do you think I am?
The grip he had on her mouth softened. Does it ache?
Yes! She struggled against the hold he kept on her wrists.
Bending down, he whispered in her ear, “How badly do you want me?”
She sobbed, So much! Dragos—please …
And there it happened again. The heat between them became so intense, her verbal skills flew out the window.
The hard hand at her mouth moved away, and he released her wrists. Sliding down the bed, he murmured, I’ll make it better.
She knew what he intended to do, and if she let him put his mouth on her, he would work at her until she screamed and flailed endlessly before he finally took his pleasure. While she loved those moments, this time she felt too impatient, too needy.
Before he could settle between her legs, she scrambled onto her hands and knees and told him, I want you inside me—now.
He could see better in the dark than she could. As she said the words, she arched in invitation. For a moment, the cool air-conditioning licked along her overheated bare skin. She could feel his gaze like a touch as he watched her. Then the darkest shadow in the room moved behind her to cover her with heat and hardness.
He positioned his cock at her entrance, rubbing himself on the passion soaked petals of her private flesh. As he did so, she hugged a pillow to herself and, bracing her weight on one elbow, reached between her legs to stroke his stiff length. As she touched him, his penis jerked.
Muttering a soft swear under his breath, he found her entrance and pushed in. No matter how many times they made love or just coupled together in wild, no-holds-barred monkey sex, she never grew tired of the sensation of his hard, thick cock entering her.
He gripped her by the hips and didn’t stop pushing until he had seated himself to the root. Their ragged breathing played in counterpart as he gave her a moment to adjust. When he began to move, she buried her face in the pillow to muffle the needy sounds she made.
As he fucked her, he reached around to rub her aching clitoris, and her climax came with such abrupt savagery it tore her breath away. Sometimes the pleasure he gave her was almost too great, too sharp. It wrung her body out and destroyed her thinking.
As she shook from the force of the pleasure that rocked through her, he bit the back of her neck. Still pistoning inside her, still massaging the center of her pleasure. She didn’t even have a chance to come down from the first peak before the second one slammed into her. Gripping his wrist as he worked her, she bucked and squealed.
Her thinking was destroyed. All she could do was hang on to him, while erotic images and impressions ran through her mind.
All the times they’d had sex. Rutted like the animals they were. Made love with gentleness and emotion. She knew the look in his eyes when she came, the combination of tenderness and intense male satisfaction. She knew how he looked when he came, feral and often inhuman, transported out of his own self-containment. There in the darkness, she saw all of his faces in her mind’s eye, and they were all the face of the man she loved.
He bit her harder, fucked her harder. She could feel his teeth pressing on her skin and knew he would leave marks. The small pain combined with the pleasure, and drove her forward into yet another climax. This time she had no breath. All she could do was whine softly, a shaky, raw sound.
Then he paused, buried to the root inside her. She felt him begin to pulse and knew her own moment of intense female satisfaction. Whomever he had taken as lovers before in his very long life, now he was hers, entirely.
She had to say it to him. Licking swollen lips, she whispered, “You’re mine. Mine.”
He wrapped one arm around her, gently encircling her throat with his hand, taking total ownership of her with the gesture. Rocking against her pelvis, he murmured into the nape of her neck, “Until I take my last breath, and beyond.”
Usually he was the one who descended into declarations of possessiveness, and she relished it every time. But whenever she felt the need to claim him as she had just now, he always gave himself to her, unreservedly.
Full of emotion, she reached up and behind her to cup the back of his head. He turned and pressed a kiss to her fingers.
“I don’t want you to go in the morning,” she complained softly.
Pulling away, he stretched out on the bed and pulled her into his arms. Her muscles felt like jelly, and she went down to him gladly.
As she settled against him, he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s only six more days now, and I’ll be nearby. And our night’s not over yet. We’re just going to take a little breather for a few moments.”
“Sounds good,” she said, face planted into his shoulder so that her words came out muffled. She didn’t think she could sit up straight, let alone do something as sophisticated as walk to the bathroom. Light flooded the room, and she flinched with a gasp. He had turned on the bedside lamp. “Why did you do that? The dark was cozy.”
“I have a present for you,” he said.
She lifted her head to squint at him. “When on earth did you find time to get me a present?”
One corner of his hard mouth lifted. “I have my ways.” He reached one long, bare arm to a pile of red and white that lay in a jumble by his cell phone. As he shook out the first piece, she realized it was a necklace. And oh lord, what a necklace! Fiery ruby red and sparks of light flowed over his long fingers.
Turned out, she did have the strength to sit up after all. “Oh my God,” she breathed. As she held out her hands, he let the necklace settle into her grip. She examined the firebird. “This is breathtaking. Where did you get it?”
“A shop on Rodeo Drive,” he said, his gaze resting on the brilliance lying in her cupped hands. “There are earrings too, and a bracelet.”
“It’s stunning.” At first, when he gave her such extravagant gifts, she had felt uncomfortable, but he got such transparent pleasure out of it, she had set her own discomfort aside a long time ago. Now she simply reveled in the beauty of the necklace. Leaning forward, she kissed him. “I love it so much. Thank you!”
“My pleasure. Here, put it on.” Sitting up, he helped her fasten the necklace. The firebird rested at the base of her throat. When she turned to face him, a smile creased his face. “You’re as beautiful as I knew you would be, wearing it.”
She knew his penchant for making love to her when she wore jewels and she gave him a grin. “Is this on your list of things you wanted to get to, before morning?”
His smile widened. “You know me so well. I’ve been looking forward to it this whole hellish day.”
At the mention of what had happened earlier, her expression darkened, but only for a moment. Reaching for his hand, she twined her fingers through his. “We dealt with it.”
He squeezed her fingers. “And we’ll continue to do so. The universe can bring it. We’ll deal with whatever may happen together.”
Something deeper than happiness took her over. Fulfillment, perhaps, along with a rush of love so deep for him, it made her eyes shimmer. “We always do.”
With a tug, he pulled her down to him and kissed her. In the middle of the kiss, he rolled so that she lay on her back, and he sprawled across her. Lifting his head, he looked down at the firebird sparking against her skin, and his expression turned purposeful.
He said, “And now to get to the next item on my list.”
“Ooh, goody.” Eagerly, she surrendered to his kiss, and then she surrendered to a great many other things as well. Pleasure was foremost among them, along with laughter, and more love.
Among his many other qualities, her mate was a very thorough man.