Then her lips touched his nipple on the right side and he hissed in a soft breath. She must have liked the reaction because her little tongue darted out and licked him there as well. His hand fisted in her hair and he pulled her back, forced her to look up into his eyes.
“I will leave one day,” he warned her. “There is no future in this.”
“But that day is not here now.”
“Sarielle …”
“Fira. Call me fira again.”
“Fira,” he hissed right before he covered her mouth with his and kissed her until neither one of them could draw a full breath. His free hand went to the curve of her lower back and he pulled her up tight to his body, the satiny feel of her robe sliding across his skin. He was hard against her, silk brushing over his engorged penis until he was groaning from the pleasure of it. Of her. Of having her.
Yes. He would have her. Damn his cursed soul, he would have her. She was untried and new, and that made him burn all the hotter for her. Her hands were sliding down his chest as she kissed him with a zeal that took his breath away. Her fingertips rode the ridges of his abdomen one at a time, moving slowly, inexorably downward until by the time her fingers reached the curls at the base of his rod, the tip was weeping in expectation of her.
She wrapped her fingers around him one by one, then slowly skimmed the whole of her hand to the very tip and back again. He growled deep in his chest, his hold on her tightening.
“I long to be inside you,” he confessed hotly.
“I know that you do,” she said with a smile against his lips. Her teeth nipped at his lower lip. “You wish to be the first, do you not?”
He groaned. “I would be lying to say otherwise. And you revel in it.”
“I do,” she agreed. “I am warm and wet again, and I find I like the sensation very much.”
“Then we shall have to encourage it most vigorously,” he said, catching her mouth in a blistering kiss. He suddenly caught her up, sweeping her legs from the floor and carrying her to his bed. He wanted to throw her down and ravage her body, but he forced himself to move a little more slowly. He laid her out against the sheets, stood back, and looked at her. Then he reached down for the ties of her robe and slowly, one by one, began to unfasten them. His breath quickened with every inch of lavender skin that was revealed, until at last the robe was in two halves from top to bottom and he could slowly sweep the two sides away from the skin they were hiding.
He began to touch every silky inch of her. Across her breasts with their dark nipples, down to her belly, and scraping his strong fingers through her fiery red curls at the apex of her thighs. He used a hand to part her thighs and then dipped his fingers into her cleft. She drew in a soft, delighted breath as he touched her, feeling firsthand that warmth and wetness she had claimed. She parted her legs farther and he was able to see her, to see the darkness of her folds and the way they gleamed from wetness.
She was touching him again as well, her fingertips skimming up and down his length again and again until he thought he would go mad from the gloriousness of it. She gasped softly when he touched her deeply, toyed at the edges of her juicy little clit. It was there like a fat, purple little berry waiting to be devoured and he couldn’t keep his appetite for it in check. He lowered his head and brought his mouth against her, his tongue flicking out to taste her.
And she was divine. Utterly divine. The entire remainder of their ride back to the keep after she had let him touch her he had done little else but think about this, think about what she would taste like and feel like and smell like. And all of it came together like the sweetest of aphrodisiacs. He was lost. Stolen away. Gone. And now he wanted to bring her with him. She gasped in short bursts of breath as he worked his mouth over her, stroked his tongue around her, let it writhe over the entrance to her body. He came back to her clit and devoured it, sucking it and loving it until she was crying out from the pleasure of it. Her hands had crept into his hair and were now fisted within it. She held him to her, demanded he make good on the promises his tongue was making to her body. And he did make good on them. He coiled her pleasure like a snake and then released it.
She cried out sounds of ultimate pleasure as she thrust herself against his mouth. But he was not satisfied with one orgasm, no matter how powerful this one had been. No matter that it was the first one she’d ever had. He pushed her sensitized body back to the edge with insistent strokes of his tongue, and she clutched at his hair and went along for the ride. It was like riding astride a horse for the first time. Wild and new and freeing. It meant she was free. Free to do anything. No more restrictions. No more captivity.
She came again, her shouts echoing in the room, filling his ears with the lusty sound of them. Only then did he draw away from her, rise up over her, look down on her. She was passion personified, uninhibited, her head pillowed on a sea of wild red hair that looked like a fiery halo around her. She was, in a word, magnificent. And she was his. It may only be for a small collection of moments, but she was his. And he was taking her.
He took his eager shaft in his hand, squeezing gently in an attempt to calm the fire within it. Slow, he reminded himself. New.
Vulnerable.
His hands began to shake. He licked his lips, the salty sweet taste of her still upon them. She must have seen the sudden doubt that entered his eyes because she reached out and bracketed his hips with her hands, pulling him down to her, raising her hips so she was sliding herself wetly along the length of his shaft.
It was all he needed. It was everything. It was such a glorious sensation that he wondered how he managed not to come on the spot, before he was even inside her. If she felt this good on the outside, he could only surmise she would be nirvana on the inside.
And he was determined to find out.
He notched himself into her entrance, one hand pressed into the bed by her head, the other gripping her rounded hip and helping her tilt her body to his approach.
“Mordu,” he swore heatedly, calling on the god of hope, love and passion. “You feel like everything. Like everything has just become right in my world.” He pushed further into her. Then more and more until finally … finally he was seated deep inside her body.
He wanted to come almost immediately and it took every ounce of self-control he had to avoid making a silly show of himself. He was a man with a man’s passions, not some green boy having a taste of a woman for the first time. And he would show her what it meant to be making love with a man like him. He would show her everything she deserved to see.
“Have I hurt you?” he asked first.
She laughed. “No. Should you have?”
“For some women it hurts. Perhaps that is not the case with Kithians.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed with a shrug. “And I am glad for it. I wouldn’t want pain to mar how wonderful this is.”
He smiled down at her, again the rare expression changing the whole of his face into a more carefree version of itself. There must have been a time when he had smiled all the time, she thought.
Well, she was determined to see it happen again. He looked so happy right then, and she wanted the feeling to last for him.
So she tightened her body around him, hugging him with her walls as tightly as she could manage. He hissed in a sharp breath. “By the sweet ever-loving gods,” he ground out. “How do you expect me to love you right when you do something like that?”
“Didn’t you like it?” she asked, suddenly concerned.
“Like it? I’m about to spill myself without a single stroke!”
“And that’s bad?” she asked.
“Mordu!” He thrust into her hard. “I’ll give you a detailed explanation later. For now, you’re mine! Gods … oh my gods …”
He pumped into her harder and harder, his speed doubling, his pace frantic and out of control. He knew he was leaving her behind, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.
She moaned at his urgency, felt herself going hot all over. To be
wanted in such a way … to be needed so desperately, it was all she could have asked for.
He was coming before he knew it, his body jetting out a blinding release. He thrust into her in time to it, dragged himself in and out and in again as he spasmed with pleasure.
When he was done he collapsed against her, drawing hard for breath, weak and replete and overwhelmed. He had never felt anything like it. Maybe it was because it had been so long for him … maybe that was why making love to her had felt so needful and urgent. He couldn’t explain it otherwise. Except to say she was perfect. In every way. And by the way she was smiling, she knew the power she had over him. A moment of trepidation crept through him. He could never allow anyone to have power over him. As an immortal man, he could have no weaknesses that others might exploit, using his strength and indestructibility to their own ends.
And then she was kissing him, sweetly and soulfully, and his trepidations evaporated. He rolled off her, removing the press of his considerable weight, and drew her up to rest along the length of his body, her head pillowed on his left shoulder, right above the wound the manticore had given him. It had healed even more in just the time it had taken for them to become lovers. Which, he thought with some consternation, had not been a very long time at all.
“I’m sorry,” he said, exhaling a hard breath. “I could have done that better.”
“Could you have? What an intriguing thought,” she said impishly. “Yes, let’s try to do it better.” Her hand slid down his belly and closed around his cock, which jumped happily at the prospect, surprising him. He’d always had a reasonably good recovery rate, but this was unexpected.
And delightful.
“Well, you need to give a man some time before—” He broke off when she dipped her head down and licked him just below his navel, her breath coasting warmly over his highly sensitized skin.
He grew hard again at the very idea of where that mouth might end up going. And she did not disappoint. Before he knew it, he was inside her mouth and her tongue was swirling around the tip of his erection. Her hand came up between his legs and cupped the malleable sac she found there. He moaned in pleasure, his fingers diving into her hair.
“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” he asked dazedly. It really was a bad thing to do, to question her honesty even in joking, but she simply gave him a lick and a shrug and said, “I’m sure. Why? Am I doing something wrong? Something right?”
“Right. Definitely right. And if you just use a little suction, you can—Mordu!” he cried when she did and did it damn well at that. Before long he was thrusting himself against her tongue, toying with an impending release. But no. Not yet. It wouldn’t be like that this time.
He pulled her away from him, drew her up his body until she was sitting astride him.
“Let’s try something that’s going to feel really good for you.”
“Okay,” she said, but he could see the hesitance in her eyes.
“What?”
“Are we going to … like this? Is that allowed? I mean, I thought we had to be the other way.” She used her hands to pantomime them flipping over with him being on top.
“No,” he assured her. “It doesn’t always have to be that way. Take hold of me … Yes,” he hissed as she wrapped her hand around him quickly and without question. She was so trusting with him, so different from the girl he had first met. He didn’t want to ever break that trust, but he was afraid one day he would. “Now hold yourself over me and slowly lower yourself onto me. Gods, you’re so wet,” he said as she began to do as he instructed. “That’s right.” He grabbed hold of her hips, and with a single thrust, he put himself all the way inside her.
She gasped when he hilted himself deep, then she rocked herself as she tried to get used to his thickness inside her. By doing that, she introduced herself to the pleasure she could give herself by riding him.
“Oh … oh my,” she breathed as she moved over him again and again. He watched her ride him, her tousled hair all around her head and shoulders, reminding him of the day he’d seen her on the wall, calling the wyvern to her. Her breasts rose and fell with every writhing curve of her back and bounce of her body. She closed her eyes, getting lost in her own pleasure, but opened them again with a snap when he reached out and put his thumb into her cleft. He stroked her there in time to her movements, and before long she was tensing around him, growing tight with anticipation, her movements becoming more wild. She leaned in, moaning deeply, her hair falling onto his face. He brushed it aside so he could continue to watch the beautiful expressions on her face as pleasure swam through her. She released, throwing her head back, singing out her pleasure like a true siren. Only then did he allow himself to be swept away with her, his own release coming hard and fast. Their pleasured cries combined, echoing in the room around them.
She fell forward over him, her breasts flattened against his chest. She was panting hard for breath and he reached to tip her head back so he could see her face. Her expression and her beauty were both priceless. He had found a very rare little jewel. A treasure in a wyvern’s hoard.
And one day he would have to leave it behind with only the wyvern to guard it.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Dethan had to say he was shocked. Well and truly shocked. Garreth had never been the sort of man to jump in and out of women’s beds. Especially women he barely knew. When Dethan had come down the hall and heard his brother moaning and calling out to Mordu, at first he had thought something was wrong. But when a female voice came into chorus with Garreth’s … Well, no one needed to explain what was happening. He wasn’t that dense. It just bothered him that he hadn’t seen it coming. Sure, Garreth had taken on the girl’s cause—that was what he had always done. Fought for the underdog. Taken on the impossible quest. But he’d never let himself become a truly personal part of the story. He would save the town from a villain, but he wouldn’t want to live there. He would rescue the king’s daughter, but he wouldn’t want to marry her. He would acquire a precious religious relic, but he wouldn’t change his religion because of it.
This had somehow become personal for Garreth, and personal was dangerous for Garreth’s well-being. On two levels. One, his emotions might become enmeshed in the situation, and two, Weysa would not take kindly to Garreth being distracted. She had made an exception to her rules once for Dethan. He seriously doubted she would be willing to do so again for Garreth. Weysa was not known for her sentimentality. She was a cold, hard warrior, through and through. Everything she did was calculated to make her victorious.
But perhaps Dethan was getting ahead of himself. His brother had bedded the girl, not wedded her. Perhaps Garreth was simply enjoying what life had to offer, now that he had his life back.
Still, he had been off that mountainside for quite some time now, and as far as Dethan knew, he had not availed himself of a woman before this. Not that he would have announced such a liaison. But Dethan had been on the lookout for it, actually. He had been afraid that Garreth would neglect to live his reclaimed life and focus instead on the unachievable.
Getting their brothers back.
Dethan was no fool. It would be a very cold day in the eight hells before Weysa would free another brother. She didn’t even know where one of them was … and the other was being kept in an enemy god’s territory. Garreth had been working under the assumption that he could do something, anything, to get them back, but Dethan knew the likelihood was beyond remote. So he had hoped Garreth would take the time to find what little pleasure he could in his hobbled life. And until now he hadn’t. Over half a turning of the seasons and nothing … until today.
Dethan should be relieved. He should be grateful Garreth was showing signs of life, but instead he was overwhelmed by a sense of trepidation. What he needed to do was keep Garreth on task and get him out of the city as soon as possible. They would offer the girl the moon, give her the chance of her lifetime, and then Dethan would go home to be with his wife
and son and Garreth would move on to the next city.
But really, he was probably worrying like a mother hen for no reason, Dethan thought. Garreth was nothing if not sensible. He had always been the voice of reason amongst the brothers. Dethan was the eldest, the one who had pushed and pushed; Maxum had been the rake and charmer; Jaykun had been the hellion; and Garreth … Garreth had been the peacemaker. He didn’t like to rock the boat because his brothers all did such a bang-up job of it. He’d always needed to be the reasonable one.
Yes, Dethan decided. He was worrying for nothing.
Now, he thought with a smile as he closed his bedroom door, it was time to write a very detailed letter to his wife. And thanks to his brother, the perfect mood had been set for it. Oh, she would upbraid him later for writing such things in a missive that could potentially be read by another, but she would get over it … once she was done fanning herself with the vellum, that is.
Dethan grinned as he picked up his quill.
The next morning Sarielle snuck out from under Garreth’s arm as gingerly as she could. He had fallen asleep after making love to her a third time, but she was not as tired. Besides, she had something very important to do.
She re-dressed herself in her robe, flushing as she realized she was sore and tender in certain interesting places on her body. She had never realized how athletic a mating could be or the toll it could take on a body. The sum total of her experience before Garreth had been some kissing with a boy when she’d barely been a young woman and the time she had nearly walked in on that kitchen wench and the stable hand. They had been going at it with a fair amount of gusto, to be sure, but it had been furtive, filled with the danger of possibly getting caught.
She did not have to live with that fear. Not any longer. But she did have some people to answer to for her actions. She had to go see them right away. They had to know she had not forgotten them, that she wouldn’t simply ignore them just because …