by Nalini Singh
“For our daughter,” he said quietly, and owned her heart all over again. “She will not have to marry in secret.”
She kissed him this time, this man who loved her and who she loved until it hurt, her fingers fisting in the silken, wavy hair that was just long enough to grip and that he’d get cut before they left. Mouth hot and wet, he thrust his own hands into her hair. Pins fell to the floor, her curls escaping her mother’s loving creation for Tazia’s wedding day.
Straining on tiptoe, she met him kiss for kiss, and when he swept her up into his arms, she sipped and sucked and licked at his lips until they tumbled into bed. The weight of his body on her own was unfamiliar, the scent of him in her every breath. And his smile, it was the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen. “I don’t know how to do this either,” he murmured against her mouth.
Nerves snapping into laughter, she touched fingers to his lips. “Neither do I. What will we do?”
“There’s probably a manual,” he said seriously.
“Probably.” She reached for the collar of his tunic, her fingers trembling. “How hard can it be?”
Stefan’s own hand slid up her stomach to lie on her breast. “Let’s see,” he murmured as her heart kicked.
Feeling scandalous, she tugged at his tunic and he pulled it over his head to throw it aside. When his eyes dipped to her own fitted top, she lifted her hands and undid the two hidden zips, then raised her arms. Reaching down, he stripped it off her in a single smooth motion. She brushed her hair off her face afterward to find his eyes on her breasts.
Those breasts were cupped in insubstantial black lace, the pretty underthings a gift from Mina. Her best friend had bought the set for Tazia on her own wedding trip and kept it until now, cheerfully optimistic that Tazia would one day find her own perfect mate and marry.
And she had.
That perfect mate bent to press a kiss to the creamy, never-exposed-to-sunlight curve of her breast, and she shivered . . . and realized he was trembling. His big body was held in fierce check, his hands gentle. Utterly undone, she clasped his face in her hands and kissed him with all the passion in her heart.
Warm muscle and strength, he gave her control, but then his hand closed over her lace-covered breast and neither one of them had any control. She didn’t remember how they got the rest of their clothing off, but oh, it felt wonderful to have his skin against her own all over, to have his mouth taste her secret places, to taste him in turn.
They probably rushed everything, but they’d been waiting so long that patience was a futile hope. Locked together, their bodies connected on the most intimate level and their breaths one, they completed the final bond that made them husband and wife.
“Perhaps not a technically assured performance,” Stefan murmured afterward, “but I have no complaints. What does my wife say?”
Feeling loose and soft and pleasured and his, she said, “That we should do it again.”
They took it slower this time and it was just as good as the first fury. And this time, they remembered to fill the bath with water so that Stefan could redirect his energy, hoping it would work. As for the broken furniture, splintered kitchen counter and crushed ceiling fan, he would ’port it all away and they’d pay for the mysteriously missing items.
Luckily, no one had reported the noise of the destruction, the neighboring rooms apparently empty at this time of day.
The most important thing was that even in the throes of passion, Stefan had directed his Tk outward, not at her. “Silence did that at least,” he said. “It gave me the skill to make sure I never inadvertently hurt you.”
She sighed and shuddered as he stroked his hand over her body from breast to thigh, his eyes intent—as if he was drinking in the sight of her. She did the same in turn, his body beautiful in its strength and grace.
Dipping his head, he kissed her breasts with an open mouth, licking at the sensitive skin, and when she gasped, suckled wetly at one taut nipple. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but then Stefan ran his hand over her ribs and lifted his mouth to repeat the caress on her neglected breast. Tugging at his hair, she brought him to her for a kiss as she wrapped her legs around his hips in shameless seduction.
One of his hands cupped the back of her thigh; he stroked as they kissed, said, “I love the way you feel. So silky and soft.”
Breasts crushed up against his muscled chest, the surface abrasive with a light layer of chest hair, she shivered. “You feel better.” All hard and rough and beautiful.
She petted his shoulders, shaped the muscle of him. “How are you so patient?” she asked, still a little shy with him. She might not be experienced, but she’d overheard the married women in the village talking, knew enough of biology to know a man often lost all control when he had a naked woman underneath him—especially a man who was violently aroused.
Like Stefan was right now.
His hand clenched on her thigh. “I wasn’t the first time.”
“Neither was I.” She kissed his shoulder, a silly, happy smile on her face. “I’m not patient now, either.” He was the one who was keeping them from rushing—left to her own devices, Tazia would’ve driven them over again by now, forgetting all about the slight, intimate soreness of her body.
“There are certain advantages to the kind of training I underwent as a Tk.” Another lush kiss as he shifted his hand inward, touched the plump, wet folds between her thighs with a single caressing finger. “Does that feel good?”
Nodding at the low murmur, she kissed his throat, asked the same question. And they learned. For two days and two nights, they learned each other until there was no shyness and his skin against her own was something she needed to feel whole.
And they didn’t speak about what would happen when the interlude ended.
Epilogue
The two of them passed their physicals with flying colors. Sitting in the small green park behind the offices the day before their departure for Alaris, Stefan said, “Tazi.”
Her stomach tight, she turned. “Yes?”
“Do you have hope again?”
He’d remembered. It shouldn’t have startled her, but it did. “Yes,” she said, though her heart ached at having to go back to what they’d been before this, to waiting at least three more months until they could touch again. “Did you know, Stefan?”
“What?”
“That my home wasn’t far from the site of the quake.”
“Yes.”
Of course he had. Stefan never did anything by chance. “Thank you.”
“There’s no need. You’ve given me yourself, a gift beyond price.”
Love burned in her, a hot flame. “What will we do?” She couldn’t not touch him, couldn’t not be with him.
Deep gray eyes looked at her with a thousand hidden secrets . . . hidden from everyone but her. “I cannot break the rules on the surface. I must be perfect.”
“I know.”
Concealed between their bodies, his hand, strong and warm, closed over her own where it lay pressed against the grass.
“I’m a teleporter, Tazi.”
Oh.
She covered her hand with her mouth, her smile so huge it cracked her face. “Will I sleep with my husband every night?”
“Of course. Going from one part of Alaris to another takes no effort.”
“I suppose I can bear the distance during the day then.”
It would be hard, but she’d think of it simply as if they were going to work like other husbands and wives. Knowing they’d meet again at the end of their shifts would be enough to carry her through, a secret joy inside her heart.
“No one but you,” Stefan said, “ever goes into the engine room at Alaris.”
Her pulse turned to thunder. “And,” she added, turning her hand palm-side up so their fingers could entwine, “there is no surveill
ance.” They could touch there at times when the need was deep, love there, safe in the darkness until they could come up into the light again.
“I can redirect my telekinetic energy into the sea when we love. It’s so vast, the effect won’t even raise the temperature a minute degree.”
Her fingers locking with his. The tightness in her chest blooming out in rays of fire. And a laugh bubbling into her throat. “Do you think changeling sharks exist?”
“Nothing is impossible.”
DORIAN
I
Dorian climbed up the tree at the far end of the play area. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he kept climbing past the branch where his mom had told him he had to stop until he got bigger. He kept climbing and climbing and climbing until the branches got too far apart and he couldn’t go any farther. Curling up against the trunk, he folded his arms and stared at the dark green leaves all around him.
Stupid, they were all stupid, he thought, his eyes burning.
When he heard his mom calling out for him, he didn’t move.
“Dorian! Sweetheart, I know you’re up there!” she called up.
Then the tree shook slightly and he knew she was climbing up to him. “Hey,” she said when she reached his branch. “That’s quite a scowl.”
Folding his arms even tighter, he tucked his knees into himself.
“I see.” Her smile was deep, her blue eyes sparkling like they always did. “No talking, huh?” Hitching herself up beside him, she kicked her legs gently outward, her sunshiny hair in a braid down her back. “You climbed far today.”
Now he was in trouble, he thought, feeling mutinous and not the least bit sorry.
Except instead of being angry with him, his mother winked. “You did well, baby.”
“I’m not a baby!”
She held up her hands, palms out. “Sorry, kitten, but you’ll always be a baby to me. You know Emmett’s mom still calls him her baby and he’s bigger than you.”
Dorian had to think about that. His mom was right. Emmett was a juvenile and really nice, and yesterday, his mom had said, “Baby, come help me with this,” and Emmett had rolled his eyes and sighed but he’d gone over with a grin.
“Okay,” he said, deciding if it was okay with a big boy, it was okay with him.
Reaching over, his mom brushed his hair off his face. “What’s wrong?”
Dorian scowled and huddled deeper into himself. “Nothing.” He wasn’t going to cry. No one would make him cry.
Face softening, his mom cupped his face and rubbed her nose against his. “I love you, my beautiful, strong, perfect boy.”
He blinked really hard so he wouldn’t cry. When she drew back, he could still smell her. It was the smell of his mom and it made him feel like he was being hugged all over. But today, it wasn’t enough. “I don’t wanna come down,” he said, his claws pricking the inside of his skin.
His mother looked at him for a long minute before nodding. “All right, baby.” Leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek. “I’m going to go home and start dinner. Your favorite meat loaf.”
Dorian thought about going with his mom when she left, but he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t cry. And he wasn’t going to cry. Not because of the stupids. Swallowing the thick thing in his throat, he breathed in and out and tried to get his leopard to stop clawing him inside. It hurt, but the leopard was really angry and sad, and it was hard.
Until another scent filtered into the air.
Dorian stared wide-eyed as Lachlan stopped on the branch below him. “Come down, Dorian,” his alpha said, the dominance in his brown eyes making Dorian’s leopard come to attention. “We’re going for a walk.”
Dorian really didn’t want to come down, but his leopard pushed him to obey his alpha. “Yes, sir.”
It was harder to climb down than it had been to climb up, but Lachlan didn’t help him, simply waited for him at the bottom. Even when Dorian slipped and skinned his palms, his alpha didn’t offer to help. Getting down, Dorian looked up with a small grin. “I did it.”
Lachlan ruffled his hair, his hand big and warm. “I knew you would.”
Dorian slipped his hand into Lachlan’s and they started to walk. His heart thudded inside his chest when his alpha led him past the edge of the safe area where the cubs were meant to play—he’d tried to go past it a few times, been scolded. He still tried sometimes, with his best friend, Mercy. They both wanted to know what was outside. Now he was going to see.
Excited enough that he was a little less angry and sad, he looked around at everything as they walked. The trees were much bigger the farther out they went, the spaces between them less. “Is it fun running here?”
“Yeah.” Lachlan grinned and when he met Dorian’s gaze, Dorian saw his alpha’s eyes now glinted yellow-green. “Sometimes, we play a game where we aren’t allowed to touch the ground.”
Dorian looked up at the thick canopy above. “All the way?” he asked, awed.
“Yes. You’ll be able to do that, too, one day. You’re already the best climber in your age group.”
“No, I’m not.” Head down, he kicked at the pine needles below him. “I can’t do things like everyone else.”
“That’s true,” Lachlan said and, dropping Dorian’s hand, lifted him up with a grip under his arms; the alpha put him on a standing position on a huge boulder.
Dorian could now look straight into Lachlan’s eyes. It was hard because Lachlan was alpha and Dorian was just a kid, but Dorian didn’t look away. “I’m not a leopard.”
“Did someone say that to you?” Lachlan’s voice held a growl.
Shaking his head, Dorian swallowed and folded his arms again. He wasn’t going to be a tattletale crybaby. Especially since the cubs who’d been so mean weren’t even his real friends or pack. They were just visiting from another pack. He’d only been playing with them because Mercy and Barker were grounded.
“I’m not dumb,” he said instead. “I try really hard to shift, Lachlan! I don’t know why I can’t do it!” It made him so angry and hot inside and it hurt.
“I know you try hard.” Lachlan put his hands on his hips, the leopard in his voice as he spoke. “The fact that you can’t shift doesn’t have anything to do with that.”
“I know! I’m latent!” Dorian didn’t really understand what that was; he just knew he hated it. “Why can’t Shayla fix me?” The pack’s healer could fix everything else, even Mercy’s broken leg when she’d slipped and fallen on the rocks by a waterfall.
“Dorian, you’re a smart boy. I’m not going to patronize you by telling you things will be easy for you,” Lachlan said, speaking to him in a way no grown-up had ever done. “It’s going to be harder than it is for your friends.”
Dorian stared at his alpha, his leopard at attention. “What do I do?”
“You’re not only smart but strong,” Lachlan said. “One of the strongest, most dominant young cubs in DarkRiver. I think you could be a sentinel one day.”
“But I can’t shift.”
“Neither can Zeph and he’s my sentinel.”
Dorian frowned, having never really considered that. Zeph was human, but he was still DarkRiver, even if he couldn’t change into a leopard. “He’s really good at stuff.”
“Yeah, he is.” Lachlan held his gaze. “You can become good at stuff, too. You just have to work hard and never, ever forget that you’re a member of DarkRiver. What keeps us strong as a pack are our members. I can’t have you giving up.”
Dorian growled. “I don’t give up!”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Lachlan looked at him without blinking, his eyes leopard again. “So, what will you do the next time someone makes you feel bad because you can’t shift?”
Dorian thought about his angry-sad feelings, and he thought about Zeph who was so good at stuff, and he thought about how his mom
and dad said he was a wonderful son, and he thought about what Lachlan had said. Then he nodded. “I won’t let them,” he said, his leopard standing straight inside him. “Just ’cause I can’t shift doesn’t mean I can’t do everything. I just gotta try harder.”
“Good.” Lachlan nodded up toward the canopy. “You want me to start teaching you how to climb from tree to tree?”
“Really?” Dorian jumped down to the ground, landing easily because his cat told him what to do. “Let’s go!”
II
Dorian lay high on the branch above the battle zone, his body as still as stone. The leaves rustled around him, but he didn’t move, barely breathed. Inside him, his leopard was contained, held back with sheer willpower. It had taken him time to learn to do that, to contain the animal so it didn’t claw him bloody on the inside.
For a long time, he’d woken curled up in agony as the leopard fought him for a freedom he couldn’t give it. At first, he’d cried out and his parents had run in to pet him and cuddle him. It was kind of embarrassing to think about now, but, like his mom said, he was their baby so he just had to suck it up. Because she still petted and cuddled him even though he was fourteen.
His little sister Kylie always giggled when Mom did that. And then he had to growl and chase the real baby of the family around the house and tickle her until she shifted into her cub form and tried to tickle him back using her paws.
He grinned within, while remaining unmoving on the outside.
At least Mercy’s mom did the same hugging-cuddling thing to her. And both his mom and Mercy’s mom did it to Lucas and Vaughn—who were older—so none of them could hassle one another. But these days, his parents didn’t need to come to him at night anymore. His leopard did still get out of control at times, but he didn’t scream, just woke up breathing hard and fast. Then he used the techniques Emmett’s mom had taught him to calm himself.