by Jackie Ivie
He didn’t answer. He just looked down at her as if pondering what she said and finding it lacked verisimilitude. Figures. She clicked her tongue, shook her head, and looked down at his entwined hands atop the sword.
She felt a tear run down her cheek and swiped at it. “Oh, Jill. Jill. What are you doing? This is ancient history. And bad timing. I mean look at this guy. This is severely bad timing.”
“You are talking to yourself again.”
Jill looked back up at him. “Oh, yeah? Well. I always do. That’s what happens when your mother was a professor of library science, and your father was a mathematical physics genius. I talk to myself because nobody else understands me.”
“They don’t?”
“Of course not. And it’s not an issue. Nobody’s ever there, anyway.”
He moved a fraction of an inch, his eyes soft. Almost concerned. “I’m here.”
Jill choked. It was more a snorting sound. “True. But you are a figment of my imagination, so you don’t count.”
He pulled in a deep breath and held it. The heavy sigh that followed lifted some of her bangs with the force of it. And what was really strange, she seemed to have made the same sigh. Without conscious thought or need. She’d matched him physically? It wasn’t likely. Was it even possible?
“Do I not look real? Surely I sound it?”
“Actually, you sound borderline psychotic. But you do look pretty substantial. You’re probably very heavy. No wonder you didn’t have any trouble carrying my weight. What do you tip the scales at, anyway? Two-fifty?”
This time he didn’t sigh. It sounded more like a grunt from deep in his throat. “This is not working.”
“No lie.”
“Jill. Please listen to me. I am not imaginary. I am very real. And you keep missing the rest of my words. I am here because I am your mate.”
“Oh. I heard that part. I’m just avoiding it. I mean... um. This word you toss around. Mating. That puts a negative, animalistic-sounding connotation to something that should be incredibly beautiful, very personal, and extremely intimate. I mean, if that’s your pick-up line, you probably need to work on it.”
He stepped closer still, while his hands tightened on the sword hilt. His knuckles whitened, and cords stood out in both arms. Wow. The guy was more than ripped. He was body-builder perfection. He also had an intensity that seemed to heighten the temperature. She was trembling. She should probably feel terrified. She didn’t. She felt like every cell was getting an electrical charge.
“Mating isn’t something negotiable. It isn’t something you can fight. I’m finding it difficult to keep from you, despite any dislike of the situation.”
“Am I coming across... that I dislike you?”
“Not after you spoke of sculpting me. Naked.”
“Oh! Oh. I cry foul. You’re using eavesdropping against me? That is a complete and total cheat.”
“Sebastian Cole never cheats.”
“Oh yeah? What do you call it, then?”
It was her move stepping closer this time. He was exuding something that felt like flypaper must to a fly. Flame to a moth. Something forceful. Passionate. Magnetic. He was also tensing throughout his frame, causing every nuance of his muscularity to get defined, begging a touch. A caress. She barely caught the move to do exactly that.
“You speak aloud. I listened. That is not cheating.”
“Well, it’s completely unfair. Nobody should have their fantasies stuck out in the bright light and examined. Even me. With those frickin’ doctors. Oh, this is bad, Jill. Really bad.”
“Why is it bad? I know you wish to see me naked. It’s completely right. And true.”
“Excuse me?”
“I was told that mating is an amazing experience. It restarts everything. Breathing. The heart beating. The senses. The passions.”
“Oh, you were told that, were you? By whom? An astrologer?”
“You disparage me?”
“That’s a big word,” she replied. “Do you know what it means?”
“And you malign me?”
“Another... big word. Wow.”
Her voice was breathless, and at a much lower tone than she intended. Good heavens. She was actually able to verbalize sexual turn-on?
“I cannot believe this! I did not ask for a mate! I did not want one. I did not need one. I did not pine for one. You don’t understand.”
“Wow. That’s... everything a girl wants to hear. You didn’t want it? Then why the hell are you here?”
“Because I am your mate.”
Holy shit. The guy had a voice that could curl steel I-beams. Lights exploded, sending the entire bathroom suite into a sparsely lit shadow-land. Glass walls rumbled and cracked. She knew that’s what the noise meant because she watched a fissure in the glass divider beside Sebastian. The crack followed the lily design some artisan had etched into it from upper corner to bottom edge.
“It is so. I am your mate. And despite everything... I cannot stop wanting you!”
He moved his sword hand. Jill’s eyes dropped to what he was showing her. Her mouth followed suit. She’d never seen an erect phallus, and his was still hidden behind leather trousers. Sebastian wasn’t just physically immense. He was extremely well-equipped. She had all those egotistical art models to thank for knowing that much. Her gasp was almost drowned out by the thump of beats filling both ears.
“Oh. Sebastian. Wow.”
Jill looked up at him, eyes so wide they hurt, and then back to his abdomen area. She didn’t dare look lower. She watched her own hand reach out next, stopping a centimeter from touching. And then she watched it shake.
“You may not wish to touch me, Jill.”
“Why... not?”
“The consequences... are vast.”
His skin looked like it was rippling over and over with little bumps, almost reaching where her fingertips hovered.
“So?”
“I may not be able... to control this.”
Oh... sweet. That sounded infinitely intriguing. Totally fascinating. And unbelievably exciting. Her heart sounded like it was at a full gallop in her ears, while she watched her hand tremble a fraction of space from the ropes and valleys of his belly.
“Sebastian?” She whispered it.
“Be certain,” he replied.
And she touched him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two of her fingers reached his abdomen, stunning him. Her touch was a physical force to contend with, an electrical surge that was impossible to defy. His eyes watered as a muscle-straining charge slammed through him, arching him backward as he withstood it. Fought it. Shuddered with experiencing it.
Resistance was futile.
And he knew it.
His head went back, his mouth wide, allowing room for his canines to grow until they reached puncturing sharpness. The sword fell, rattling on the tile before it stilled. He slammed a hand to the counter beside him. It cracked. The other hand grabbed for the etched glass bracket on his other side. The wood broke. The glass shattered.
Merde!
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. He’d accepted that he’d physically mate with her, but it wasn’t to have this much power. And little meaning. Isabelle was his heart. Her face was the one he should be seeing. Her breath the air caressing his skin. She had his love. She did. She always would...
Why did none of that mean a damn thing?
Jill’s fingertips had become her entire palm, pressing to his belly. Her other hand joined in. She slid along his flesh, shooting glass-like shards through his skin with each increasing moment. No. No! It wasn’t supposed to feel like this! It wasn’t to be this rapturous! This amazing. This—
Sebastian yelled in reaction, the sound pulled from the depths of his being. More glass broke, shattering into little pieces that made tinkling noises as they hit the floor. Nothing could have prepared him for this. It was beyond anything he’d experienced, in his mortal life, or in the centuries sinc
e.
And he wanted more.
Much more.
He gasped for breath and looked down, taking in every detail of his mate’s beauty. She had perfect, translucent skin. A dusting of dark eyelashes. Incredibly deep, amber-shaded eyes. She had them wide. Surprised. Her pupils enlarged as he watched. A strange look overtook her features. As if she were troubled, yet still intrigued. How was this possible? She was truly adorable. His heart hurt him with the force of each thump.
“You... have fangs,” she told him.
He smiled. “Yes. I do.”
He was beyond thinking. On the edge of control. Someone should have warned him of the power of the mating. The physical need. The amazing desire. This was his mate! Decreed by the fates! And joining with her was becoming as necessary as blood. Desire was fueling it. Emotion was the catalyst. Sebastian had his hands about her shoulders before he knew his intent and could rescind the motion. He lifted her. Brought her to his chest and then just held her for long moments, their bodies vibrating to an exchange of energy that sparked into being, and kept growing. Larger. Hotter. More dominant. His entire being experienced a series of lightning-charges far worse than heat. They were infused with passion. And angered, primal need.
“You can’t... have fangs. It’s... beyond possible.”
She panted through the words, but it was her tongue sliding along his jaw. Her lips seeking his. Her mouth reaching and then...
Her lips touched his.
And the world shifted.
Her kiss was a weapon. A curse. A torment. And a supreme joy. A canine sliced through flesh, mingling their life blood. The taste sent Sebastian spiraling. Rising. Creating a vortex of wonder. A moan erupted. It throbbed through the room. It didn’t come from a single throat, but both.
Sebastian’s head bumped the ceiling. He had to consciously drop back to the floor, when everything about him was soaring. Experiencing bliss without end. Wonder without bounds. He was lapping and sucking and groaning, and laughing. Akron hadn’t been succinct enough. Finding one’s mate was an experience beyond description. Without equal. Rapture beyond comprehension. Bliss that transcended boundaries. Erased memories. Even shattered ancient vows.
Sebastian tensed for half an instant on the thought, honed by years of fealty and rote. This wasn’t possible. He’d loved Isabelle. He did. He had.
He had?
“I didn’t know... a kiss... felt like this.”
The words were spaced with snippets of her sweet breath as she writhed against him. Her contortions sent all sorts of sensory messages through him. They reached his lungs. His heart.
“Nor I,” he replied.
No. Wait. That couldn’t be true. Could it?
He wrenched his lips free. Slid them down her chin. To her throat. Aimed for the throbbing vein just beneath the surface of her skin. And a moment later, he was there, poised atop it, feeling the thrum of her blood as it tapped the vein against his canines. And then he stabbed into it.
Liquid ecstasy shattered through him, stalling his heart, weakening his limbs, staining his soul. He set her on the nearest counter before she slipped from his grasp. She responded by wrapping both legs about him, and then she clenched them, scooting closer. Nearer. And then she was rocking against his erection in a series of lunges that sent his passions to an even hotter pitch. Scorching hot. Incendiary.
Sebastian grabbed for the chrome-edged, marble countertop, warping it as he fought the absolute need to continue. To take her fluid. Drain her. Change her.
No.
He couldn’t do it like this. It was too soon. He couldn’t take her mortality. Not like this. He had to stop. Pull back. Fight everything his body was demanding. And somehow he found the strength to do it. He yanked from her in a vicious gesture, spraying a mist of dark red droplets onto the scene.
Dark red assailed his senses.
Blood red.
Everything ratcheted higher, shoving him into a realm that contained massive want, desire, and very little control. He tightened every muscle at his command, working to temper it. Harder. More. He shook until the room sounded like it rattled along with him.
“Sebastian?”
He glanced down. Jill’s lips were swollen. Covered with dark red. Moist. Kissable. Her eyes were narrowed, giving him just a glimpse of their ale-shaded beauty. She didn’t remotely resemble Isabelle. Isabelle had blue eyes.
Or had they been greenish-blue? No. Maybe hazel?
He couldn’t recall? It was like Isabelle had faded, dropping from the altar of conscious thought into the realm of memory. And he hadn’t even noticed?
The growl he gave contained pain, and fury, and something very close to sobs.
“Did I do... something wrong?”
The stain of emotion in her voice was like a blow. It slammed through his chest, aiming right for his heart. And when it got there, it wrapped about that throbbing muscle with tentacles of light-imbued warmth. Cradling it. Caging it.
For all time.
Sebastian pulled in a breath. Held it until his chest burned before exhaling. And then he moved his gaze back to her. His mate. The one being slated for him through all time and space. She was a gift beyond perfection. One he hadn’t asked for and didn’t think he wanted. One, he probably didn’t deserve. Her eyes had a patina of moisture atop them now. And his newly awakened heart fluttered in its cage.
“No. No, sweetheart. No. You are perfection.”
Oh. She was more than that! Small, yet soft. Curved. And gifted with the most amazing scent. He didn’t have much recollection to draw from, but he caught a slight floral aroma. Clean. Warm. It might resemble a field of sun-touched lavender. He inhaled deeply. And then shook with holding back more reaction.
This was incredible. Amazing. Frightening.
“Forgive me.” His voice was a rasp of sound. He was surprised it worked. “It has been... some time. I do not wish to alarm you.”
“Oh. You don’t. But—”
She had her lower lip between her teeth as she said it. She was very pale. It made the blood staining her lips and the blush tipping the tops of her cheeks especially noticeable.
“Yes?”
“I... it’s. You’re. Um. We. Well... uh.”
Every word darkened the color tinting her cheeks. And she wouldn’t look at him. Sebastian reached a trembling finger to her chin and lifted it, making her face him. It was probably a mistake.
“Yes?” he asked again.
“I... know we’re supposed to have... some sort of talk... about now.”
His entire body pulsed at her gaze. He barely heard her words. He had a difficult time comprehending them. “We are?”
“A-a-about past history. You know... s-s-sexually transmitted diseases. And b-birth control method of choice.”
She was stuttering. That made her even more adorable. And she just kept looking up at him. Every prolonged moment giving a plethora of torment. Every breath she sent over him was doing worse.
“I do not understand,” he replied.
“I’ve never... had a man.”
Oh sweetness!
There wasn’t a description for the feeling that hit him. It burned and iced, soothed and chafed, strengthened and drained. Sebastian pushed upward to give vent to a howl that contained absolute pleasure. It was lengthy. Deep. And primitive. It caused more damage in the room behind him as things fell, clamoring and banging, before stilling. The echo of his cry ended, leaving the sounds of their panting breath. He dropped his head and bent his arms, bringing his chin level with hers. She was watching him with even wider eyes. Beautiful eyes. Fascinating eyes. Looking exactly like molten gold.
“You will never have another, either,” he said.
“I... won’t?”
“Oh, no. No.”
“That’s... rather... p-p-possessive.”
He lowered his chin and looked at her through his lashes. The lurch of her frame sent it right against his. He reached behind her, grabbed her rear and slid he
r forward. And if they weren’t still clothed, he’d have reached her cavern, rather than the obstruction of leather. Been burrowing into depths. Sliding deep into honeyed moistness. His eyes narrowed as he fought the urge to tear through fabric.
And somehow he got his mouth to work.
“Possessive?” he repeated.
She nodded. Sebastian grinned, uncaring of his fangs.
“Too bad.”
He took her lips again, and this time there was something different. Something... new.
His tongue connected with a little spike. Another one. Slicing with razor efficiency along his tongue. His inner lip. Her fingers slid up and over his shoulders, gripped into his hair, and held him while she licked and sucked and moaned and writhed.
Pounding overtook the space. Accompanied by a dark red wash of color. A symphony of tinkling sounds resembling bells. She broke the kiss, trailed her way to his neck, and he let her. Everything on him hummed in anticipation. Keenness.
His hands grazed her ribs, reaching her breasts, filling his palms with fullness. Bulk. And infinite sweetness. She was a perfect size. Perfect heft. Perfect... everything. He rubbed his thumb along the tips, raising hard nubs, even through the layers she wore. Her pulsing movements against him intensified. It matched the movement of her lips as she sucked on his neck.
“Jill. Sweet.” His voice was a grunt of sound he didn’t recognize.
“Hmm?”
Her purr sidled right into his ears, joining the thumping noise. It matched his heartbeats. Loud. Fast. Angry.
“You need... to divest your clothing,” he took several hard, fast breaths before continuing, “...before it gets in my way.”
“Hmm.”
This time her throaty answer wasn’t even a question. Sebastian hooked both hands into her shirt front and ripped it open. Buttons jumped from the fabric, peppering the space with little clinking sounds as they flicked about and landed somewhere. He didn’t notice or care. He was looking down at absolute perfection. No. She was better than perfect. The next moment he had her breasts freed of the band-thing she wore, cupped in both of his hands, lifted, and was lavishing adoration to her cleavage. And then, to each nipple in turn. His movement had released her from his neck, and she was arching backwards, crying aloud with what sounded like pleasure, while she latched onto his sides with fingers that felt like talons.