Col: His Destined Mate

by Georgette St. Clair

  Against the wall, Lily’s eyes were moist. She could almost picture the young boy in Col’s story, never being allowed to show weakness, or to do things for enjoyment rather than a parent’s expectations. A boy brutally molded and shaped into a man in his father’s image. And yet, he still held out hope that he might one day fight for a woman he thought of as a goddess.

  The words from that first day they talked in the woods came back to her. How would a male tell a female that he would worship her if she wouldst but allow it? And like that first day, the butterflies fluttered inside her, batting their wings furiously from within. She closed her eyes, letting Col’s voice sweep through her as if it were physically touching her. As if his words were tongues of fire stroking her skin, sliding downwards to where her ovaries were melting with the heat.

  “A Destine is the singular female who the male reveres above all else. She is the one, sent by the Goddess as a blessing unto him, to warm his heart, to provide him succor and the fire in his hearth. She is the one to remind him that no matter how formidable a Waryeor he is, how feared he may be by other males, that underneath his fighting skins and weapons, he is but a male upon whom the Goddess—in the form of his Destine— finds favor and grants joy.”

  Lily opened her eyes, the room was hushed. Brady’s and Clover’s eyes were trained on Col, the soft glow of their lamp lighting the auburn of his hair, the angle of his strong jaw, the curves of his muscles rippling as he shifted his weight on the ottoman.

  The little boy was the first to break the silence. “And then what happened?”

  “At last the young boy became a man. And there was a fierce battle, where he fought ferociously and with much skill. So much so that the Sorceress Queen, the Shining One, picked him, and six others who she deemed the most worthy of an incredible honor.”

  Brady clutched at his stuffed monkey. His lids were already heavy and he yawned. “So he was the best fighter?”

  “He was chosen as one of the seven worthy Waryeors.” Col’s voice was quiet. He rose, and pulled the cover up on Brady as the boy settled into a sleeping position.

  Clover’s voice was muffled as she too was yawning. “What about the Des— the Destine? Did he meet her?”

  Col stood up, ready to go towards Clover, but turned his face towards Lily. Their eyes met.

  “Perhaps,” he said. Lily’s breath caught in her throat, as if she would never be able to breathe again. “But that is a story for another night.”

  Col bent to tuck in Clover, taking pains to also cover the stuffed penguin as the little girl’s eyes closed. A simple click, and the room was dark, with only the moonlight streaming in through the window, the tiny hint of light from under the bedroom door.

  Col stepped over the ottoman easily, and then he was beside Lily. She felt her hand lightly enveloped in his larger one, softly stroking her fingers. The gentleness of the touch, contrasted with the rough pads of his fingers undid her, if there was any resistance left after his words. A pounding in her blood was the only sound she heard before he spoke.

  “Walk with me in the night,” he said.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “That boy in the story…that was your story, wasn’t it?”

  Lily walked hand-in-hand with Col on the path that wound from the backyard and into the woods. She had had a momentary shiver as she thought of the wolves, or wild dogs, she had heard howling the other day. But when she shared her concern with Col, he had answered with a little smile.

  “Fear not, I shall protect you from any…dog….that wouldst be so foolish as to come near.”

  There was just enough moonlight that Lily could see directly in front of her, but she still marveled at how assuredly Col moved about in the relative darkness. But, she supposed that he was very familiar with the area, given all the patrolling that he and the others did.

  “Yes,” Col answered her question about the story he had so eloquently told. “It was another time, when boys such as Brady would have been taken from their mothers and already shaped into Waryeors. And girls such as Clover would not know their Brodher until such time as when he had already tasted battle.”

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?” Lily was suddenly seized with an urgency to know all about him, beyond what he had revealed in his story.

  Col’s voice was sad. “If I had siblings born of mine parents, I knew them not, and will never have the chance to know them, ever again. My only Bredhren now are the ones here that you have met, and two more that are still to be found.”

  Of course. Lily wanted to kick herself. It was uncharacteristically callous of her. How could she have forgotten — he obviously had to leave behind his family to come here, and they probably had no chance of getting out. In order for him to seek political asylum in this country, he had to accept that he might never see them again. She had been so thoughtless, so selfish to ask. And the other two refugees that he just referred to were in all likelihood mired in some bureaucratic nightmare. The last thing he probably wanted or needed was for her to insert herself into that red tape. All that mattered, she reminded herself firmly, was the here and now, what was developing between them. Whatever it was, and however long that it would last.

  “I’m sorry about your family, Col,” she said simply, squeezing his hand to impart some strength, some sympathy. “I have some idea how it feels, I have lost people too. I’m sorry to have brought it up.”

  She thought of her mother in her last days, growing up with her father’s absence, and felt her throat tighten.

  “It pains me to think of such sadness touching you.” Col stopped, and drew both her hands slowly up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles tenderly.

  Who knew that knuckles could be erogenous zones? She felt the warmth flicker deep within, and when he turned her hands over, to kiss the insides of her wrists, the warmth burst into a flame .

  “Tell me of them,” Col said. “I know of who you hold dear.”

  Dear Lord, she couldn’t think straight, not when he held her hands like this. As if he could intuit what was going through her mind, he slowly lowered their hands, pulling her into an embrace against his massive form. Under the moonlight, in a small grove of trees, with the nighttime breeze softly blowing on her bare skin, she felt the strength of his chest, his heart beating next to her. Was it wrong to pretend, just for right now, that this would last? This was a moment she wanted to hold onto forever.

  His hand was rubbing smooth circles on her back, and he murmured against her hair. “Whoever hurt you was unworthy of you, Katie Cooper. Or wouldst you wish for me to address you as Fair Lily?”

  Her name in his voice, with his accent, was the loveliest thing she ever heard.

  “Please call me Lily,” she breathed. And then she remembered. She had to ask him something, didn’t she. She cleared her throat.

  “Col.”

  He made a sound of acknowledgment, as he continued nuzzling her head, still holding her.

  “The other night, when we—when you—” She struggled to form the right words, but dear God, it was so difficult as the warmth of his hand continued to hypnotically trace spirals on her back.

  “When you allowed me to worship your body, beautiful Lily?”

  God. And English wasn’t his first language? Somehow in the short time he had been here, he had managed to pick up the exact right words to turn her into mush.

  “It’s after the fact, but we should talk about whether we are — uh, our partners — uh, the people we’ve slept with—” Crap. She had only ever had one partner, Rey, and to her knowledge he hadn’t cheated on her. And it wasn’t like she ever thought she’d have need of the articles on “How to Have That Conversation” or “How to Be Responsible About Having Sex with People You’ve Just Met.” Or that she’d be standing in the middle of the woods wondering how to bring up the sexual health status of a hot guy she’d already done the nasty with.

  “My ex is the only person I’ve been with, until you.” Lily finally said, and Col
’s brows knit together.

  “I cannot but envy any other man who has lain with you,” Col’s voice was a step away from being a growl. It was….kind of sexy. Okay, a lot sexy.

  “ You don’t need to,” Lily felt his hand tighten on her back, all his muscles tense.

  “Col, in all the ways that matter, you’re the first for me. You call it worship, I call it making love. You were the first to make me….” Lily’s cheek flushed, and she forced the admission out. “You were the first to care about giving me pleasure, and that was the first time I felt it.”

  She peered up into his hazel eyes, just in time to see the wonderment spread over his face.

  “You are the first that I wanted to pleasure.” Col whispered huskily. Lily thrilled at his words, and that strengthened her resolve to ask.

  “We didn’t use protection, but there’s no risk of pregnancy. My last checkup was a few months ago, so I just have to ask about your status.”

  “My stat—?” Col looked puzzled, but then his features cleared. “Oh! I am free of human diseases.”

  “Human?”

  “I mean to say, transmissible diseases.”

  Lily relaxed. Sexually Transmitted Diseases, or STDs would be a stretch for his vocabulary. But he had told her what she needed to hear. Besides, most likely he would have been tested as part of his political refugee status. Not that she knew much about the process, but it seemed that staying with Simon would also mean regular health screenings and access to the best care, given his concern for staff benefits such as childcare, meals and lodging. It was a huge load off, and he seemed to sense her muscles relaxing, even as her thoughts were still churning, trying to sort themselves out.

  She shouldn’t want to know about others he had been with, if he was clean. She had secrets of her own, after all. How do you tell someone that you have no business being with that you have a drug dealing ex who’s possibly hunting for you? Talk about dealbreaker. She couldn’t bear his disgust, not to mention having to stay in Simon’s mansion with him if he rejected her.

  Besides, she scrambled for justification, his political refugee status could be jeopardized if he was even remotely involved with criminal activity, especially drugs. For his own good, she needed to be away from him as soon as she was able to.

  But until then, she wanted to believe that she was the only one that was as special as he was making her feel. After all, or maybe especially because, this wasn’t forever. It couldn’t be. It would be the little piece of selfishness that she would allow herself. And then Col would be moving on, as she would have to, after she left.

  Even though she was falling for him.

  And falling a little harder as he brushed her jaw with his thumb, before cupping her face tenderly in his hands. His eyes met hers, and her lips parted.

  “What other knowledge of me wouldst you have need of, before I taste your sweetness once more?”

  She quelled the little stab of guilt that rippled through her. He would tell her anything, and she was holding back so much.

  “Kiss me already,” she breathed. And he did, thoroughly, by lowering his mouth onto her waiting lips. He took possession, sweeping his tongue in at her invitation, her spine and legs becoming liquid in his arms.

  He laid her down on the bed of grass with the stars directly overhead, surrounded by trees that sheltered them from the rest of the world.

  “Lily,” he said raggedly, as his mouth blazed a hot trail down her neck, his palm reaching under her t-shirt to cup the lace-covered breast. She moaned as his thumb caressed her stiffened peak, and the thickness pressing against her seemed to lengthen at the sound.

  He pushed the t-shirt off, and his hazel eyes seemed to glitter at the sight of her breasts, still encased in a bra. He moved his head down, taking her nipple into his mouth, and she moaned again as he teased it through the fabric.

  “Love me, Col,” she begged, as his hand played with the other peak. She was writhing underneath him, a rising urgency at her core.

  Within seconds he had the lacy bra cast aside, and she was uncaring of the blades of grass at her back, or even how her panties joined her denim skirt next to the bra. The moon shone on her naked body, her heavy-lidded eyes on him, filled with invitation.

  By the Goddess, She Who Grants Abundance, this was surely divinity made womanly flesh. Col had never beheld such a sight, as his lovely Lily stretched out languidly afore him on the grass, the moon tracing each of her feminine curves.

  He made rapid work of his garments, so that he too would be clad only with the nighttime air. Her eyes widened at the sight of his thickness, proudly erect as if reaching for the stars.

  “Love me, Col,” she had commanded, and it would be as she wished, he would worship her with every fiber of his being.

  He knelt before her, and bent to kiss her knees, before raising a creamy thigh to his mouth, and tracing his lips, tongue and teeth on the delicate skin of its interior. She shuddered, and a low moan told him that she was pleased with the contact.

  He continued the path upwards, and her quivering grew in intensity as he approached her core. Her scent rose to greet him, the unique blend of a night-blooming floral and the earthiness of desire. He could not wait to taste her again, to dip his tongue into the well of her nectar. She raised her hips in invitation, and hissed as his lips met her sex.

  His tongue swept along its cleft, savoring the honey as her moans filled the air. He pleasured her with his mouth, although in truth the pleasure was also his, until at last her release came, and he held her until the last wave subsided.

  He drew his fingertips on the sensitive skin under her belly, and she shuddered with an aftershock of pleasure, before he moved himself over her, mindful of his weight. With one hand he positioned his tip against her entrance, and he felt her hands draw up on him, pulling him in.

  With a single, smooth stroke, he entered into her velvet sheath. Goddess, this was like coming home.

  And then they were moving together, in the music that they alone heard, as she moved herself to meet his rolling hips. Their joining was a timeless, sacred rite on the altar of the earth, witnessed only by the ancient trees and stars above.

  He felt her release again, and this time it grabbed at him, and he could not hold back any longer. He roared with the force of it, the sound mingled with her screams of pleasure.

  He could not imagine this with anyone else.

  He could not bear for her to have this with anyone else.

  He never wanted to let her go.

  His wolf would not let her go.

  But… she did not know the truth about him. What if she refused the mate bonding once she learned of it?

  He held her tightly, determined to worship her until such time as she refused it. But he would delay that time until absolutely necessary.

  And in the meantime, he would continue pleasuring her until the dawn came.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “You’re amazing, Simon,” Jemima’s voice cooed again over the speakers. He had just hung up the call from Rika’s office, where Puma’s right hand person—Jordy, he remembered—had given a report of what she had found on the footage. It was disappointing.

  The few people who even came close to matching the description she had been given were all regulars known to Puma and Rika: one of the vending assistants in the Bladesmyth’s booth, another was a traveling bard who performed with a dragon puppet perched on his shoulder, and still another was a cook for one of the on-site restaurants. Yet another was on the grounds maintenance crew, and another was a member of Security who would have been at his station far from the Royal Court of Food during the time that Col was there.

  As a matter of course, Rika was sending over to Simon the staff ID photos of all of those individuals to show Col, but he knew that whoever had abducted Col could not have been a regular.

  As for anomalies that were reported, Jordy had dutifully given details on what she considered to be even slightly unusual, but Simon non
e of them were helpful. It would be far more efficient for his trusted directors Rika and Puma to vet Jordy’s reports first with their vast experience of day-to-day operations, and then bring to his attention anything that they deemed worthy of note.

  So pretty much a dead end there, although it was necessary due diligence.

  Nothing new from Miller either, in terms of Blake Rickert’s murder. Simon had already hacked into the police database, but there was little to add to what they had already learned. His friend the realtor’s death was still a mystery, although there was speculation that it was a drug-fueled robbery, or tied to any number of messy breakups in his past. Apparently Blake had a very colorful — and dramatic — private life that was going to keep the investigators busy for quite some time.

  Unfortunately for Simon, that pointed to an increasing possibility that his friend’s death had nothing to do with the person inquiring into Simon’s holdings.

  With all of his technical skills, all he was getting was more confirmation that he was going in circles. He felt fucking useless.

  And since it was obviously turning into a pity party of epic proportions, let’s roll the tape of what happened a mere half a year ago, when his life completely changed. Not that it was what made him a loser, just on a more epic scale.

  The motion detector alarms had gone off in the network of chambers underground that had once been an active, functioning mine when the town was first founded. Jemima’s voice had woken him, and he in turn got Miller awake.

  The two had raced down through the cleverly hidden entrance that had been rigged up with even more of Simon’s technological inventions. There was a possibility—there was always a possibility—that it was a simple error. An animal might have gotten in, set off the alarms. Or there was a glitch in the wiring, a short in the solar-powered generator that had been cleverly embedded into the surface above. It was unbelievable that this could be it, the moment that he had been prepared for all his life, even before his parents’ death when he had been trained over and over to repeat a strange collection of syllables that he hadn’t ever been able to find online.