Kiss of the Wolf

by Morgan Hawke

  She crawled across the bed to him and took his hand.

  He encouraged her to sit across his lap.

  She frowned up at him. “I’m not a child.”

  Yaroslav sighed. “Only too well do I know this.” He snorted. “Indulge me in my small pleasures, will you not?”

  “Oh, all right.” Thorn huffed, as if she were put upon, but the smile sneaking onto her lips ruined the whole effect. “If it makes you happy.”

  “It does.” Yaroslav nodded firmly, his bottom lip protruding slightly. He curled his arm around her and held his forearm under her nose. “Drink.”

  The scent of his skin, and the blood pulsing under it, brought Thorn’s hunger roaring forth. It was more than she could bear. She opened her mouth on his forearm and bit down.

  He released a small gasp and groaned.

  She pulled her teeth back out and covered the puncture from her teeth with her mouth. She sucked in a mouthful of copper fire and swallowed. His flavor wasn’t quite something she would ever find truly delicious, but she had definitely acquired a taste for it. Heat burned down her throat and expanded in her stomach, replacing her hunger with warm and intoxicating contentment.

  “Yes….” He sighed. “Good, very good.” His arm curled around her, keeping his forearm tight against her mouth. He stroked her brow with his free hand.

  She curled up against his shoulder and drank. She had a nice view of the car’s decorative arched ceiling and Yaroslav’s face. He was here, with her. He was safe. The enemy had been found and destroyed. The man who had occupied her nightmares for so many years was finally wrapped in the coils of a nightmare of his own.

  It was…comforting.

  She sighed and relaxed. The heat in her stomach curled up into her mind, and while it didn’t erase her thoughts, it did make it far easier not to think of anything at all.

  Yaroslav smiled, carefully hiding his long teeth, and pressed his hand to her cheek. “We are feeling better, yes?”

  She blinked at him and then nodded and smiled.

  “Very good.” He pushed her upright on his lap, off his arm. “And now it is time to serve your punishment.”

  Raw, sweat-inducing alarm snapped Thorn right out of her comfortable stupor. She twisted to look at him. “Punishment?”

  Yaroslav cupped her jaw in his hand, his long nails digging in slightly. His gaze bore into hers. “Yes, punishment.” He smiled, but his eyes were narrowed and flickered with flames, betraying his banked fury. “This is the second time you have put your life in extreme danger. I will not tolerate such behavior.”

  Thorn grabbed for his wrist. “You can’t mean that?”

  “I should have dealt firmly with you the last time. I will not be so remiss again. This time, you will be spanked.”

  “I will be…what?” Thorn stared. She couldn’t have heard that right.

  “Spanked.” He tugged sharply.

  Thorn tumbled across his splayed knees, her feet kicking up in midair. Her hands scrabbled for something to hold, but there was nothing but the floor and the edge of the bed. “I thought you were…hungry?”

  “Oh, but I am.” He pulled her into position across his knees. “I will indeed feed, directly after you are thoroughly punished.”

  She struggled. “You can’t do this!”

  His arm pinned the back of her legs, steadying her across his lap. “I not only can, I most assuredly will.” He wound her hair around his fist. “The best way to deal with punishment is to simply endure. If you do not resist, it will be over with swiftly.” He leaned over and smiled, showing the tips of his fangs. “However, I hope you do resist. I find that far more entertaining.”

  Thorn scrabbled to grab the side of the bed. “Are you insane?”

  “No, I am very, very angry.” His palm circled on one vulnerable butt cheek and then the other.

  He was angry; she could feel it pulsing at the back of her mind. Oh, my god! He’s really going to do this! She expected the ripple of fright that brought the hair up on her arms, but the warm throb of hungry arousal took her completely by surprise.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him raise his hand. “Don’t!” Then she heard a loud crack. Half a second later, her right butt cheek was on fire. A hiss escaped her lips.

  “There’s no need to be brave. I have you well in hand. Feel free to wriggle all you like. In fact, you may also scream.” He raised his hand again.

  She flinched at the sharp slap; then her other butt cheek was on fire, too. She bit back a moan and could not stop herself from writhing on his lap to relieve the sting. She knew damned well she could change forms to get away from him, but the coil of erotic tension tightening in her belly was too delicious to give up on. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

  “It is far too late for apologies.”

  She didn’t see him raise his hand again, but she certainly heard the quick succession of slaps and felt the fiery results.

  He stopped.

  She groaned in agonized relief.

  “Hmmm…your arse is becoming quite warm to the touch.” His voice was soft, almost a purr. He explored her burning butt with long nails that felt more like talons on the marks he’d made. “Ah, your arse is blushing very nearly the exact shade as the heart of a rose.”

  She hissed under his fingers. “God!” She couldn’t stop her writhing. “Nearly?”

  “Fear not.” He leaned over and smiled at her. “It will soon be the exact shade.” His finger slid down the seam of her butt to explore her soft core. “How nice, your cream has begun to drip. I believe you are enjoying this.” He slid a finger into her.

  She gasped with the delicious sensation.

  “In fact, I believe you are enjoying the warming of your arse very much indeed.” He flicked something tender and exciting deep inside.

  She jolted with carnal hunger and moaned.

  He chuckled. “What a lovely sound.” He pulled his finger free. “Now, then, no more mercy. I expect to hear you scream.”

  She clenched her jaw and bared her teeth. “I won’t scream, damn you.”

  “Oh, but you will.” He chuckled. “I know just the instrument to encourage you.” He looked away. “Now, then, did I not see a hairbrush somewhere?”

  30

  Thorn froze. A hairbrush? He was going to use a hairbrush on her?

  Yaroslav leaned to one side of the bed. “Ah, yes. Here it is. The prince believes in leaving his private car fully equipped with interesting conveniences, such as this nice flat-backed, round brush, like my mother used to use on me.” He showed the broad ivory instrument to Thorn, who was sprawled facedown across his knees. “I’m afraid this will sting a great deal.” His hand rose and fell with inhuman speed.

  She heard the slap of ivory on flesh and then felt the stabbing burn. She yelped in surprise. He was right. The brush stung like hell.

  He leaned close. “Was that a scream, my love?”

  “No!” She could not hold still across his lap. “No, it wasn’t a scream.”

  He pursed his lips. “Are you very sure?”

  She tried to turn to look at him, but his hold on her hair was too snug. “Yes! Damn you, it wasn’t a scream!”

  “Good.” He sat up. “I’ll stop when you scream.” He gave her three quick smacks, one right on top of the other.

  She gasped with the pain and moaned.

  He chuckled. “I will stop when you scream.” He gave her three more smacks on the other cheek.

  She writhed and gasped. “Son of a fucking bitch!”

  “Ah, please continue to writhe in that fashion. You are making me quite deliciously hard.”

  Thorn’s temper snapped. “Sadistic bastard!”

  He leaned over her. “Oh, so you noticed?” The brush landed sharply, twice, once on each cheek.

  She almost screamed that time. She barely stopped herself.

  He chuckled. “Still resistant?” The brush landed, and landed, and landed…

  She let out a screech that n
early deafened her.

  He flinched back. “I think I can safely say you have indeed screamed.”

  She was lifted up from her humiliating position and set across his knees. She hissed as soon as her butt made contact with his hard leg. And yet she shivered with a brutal need she didn’t quite understand and really didn’t want to think about.

  He wrapped his arms around her. “We are finished.” He pressed a kiss on her brow. “Bravely done.”

  Thorn’s heart contracted and ached. He thought her brave. She closed her eyes. Fresh, hot tears slid down her cheeks in a sudden rush. She blinked in surprise. Tears? What the…?

  He smiled as his thumbs brushed her damp cheeks. “Ah, good, very good.” His voice was very soft.

  “Good?” She leaned close and pressed her brow against his. “But, I don’t know why…” She sniffed. “Why I’m…”

  “Why you are crying?”

  “Yeah…that.”

  “It is release. The Greeks call it catharsis. All you had locked within you is escaping. Pain releases all the emotions at once.” He took a deep breath and released it on a sigh. “When the pain of the heart runs very deep, physical pain is sometimes the only release.”

  “That is so strange.” She dabbed at her eyes.

  He looked away. “Not as uncommon as you would think.”

  She leaned back to look up at him. “You…?”

  “Of course.” He offered her a linen handkerchief. “I have lost many loves in my long life.”

  She took the handkerchief. He was a vampire. He had lived, and would continue to live, far longer than any human could. She couldn’t imagine the amount of hurt he had endured. “I’m…sorry.”

  “It is a condition I have become accustomed to.” He kissed her brow. “Enough about sadness. Do you feel better?”

  She nodded.

  “Good.” He picked her up and set her on the bed. “On your hands and knees, if you please.” He pulled his buttons free and dropped his pants.

  Her eyes were drawn to his violently hard and rigidly upright cock. She licked her lips. The scent of his arousal rolled from his skin, electrifying her. Her body thrummed urgently, and a spat of moisture dampened her thighs.

  He grasped the length of his cock and stroked back the tender foreskin, exposing his violently blushing, and slightly dripping, cock head. His eyes were dark, wide pits. He licked his lips. “Turn about, and rest on your forearms.”

  She turned with speed and positioned herself in front of him. Relief at last…thank God!

  His cool hands closed on her warm butt, spreading her cheeks.

  A shiver shook her.

  “Oh, your arse is nice and warm.” The head of his cock rubbed against her aching and moist opening; then he pressed for entry. He surged hard and slid within, groaning in obvious pleasure.

  She moaned. Tight fullness, exquisite ache, dark pleasure…He filled her, and her heart leaped to have him there.

  His hands cupped her hips. “Oh, yes….” He sighed, pulled back a little, then thrust hard. He gasped and trembled within her. “My apologies…” he sounded breathless, “but I have this overwhelming need to fuck you.”

  His need was overwhelming? Thorn just about snarled. “Don’t talk about it—hurry up and do it!”

  He pulled back and proceeded to hammer into her.

  The sounds of wet flesh striking wet flesh, and groans of hunger, filled the small room.

  Delicious and ruthless pleasure coiled tightly within her core. She shoved back against his merciless plunges, greedily encouraging her body’s climb to orgasm. The leading edge of climax rose violently fast and beckoned. A fine trembling shook her thighs. She clutched the blankets with whitening knuckles.

  He groaned and slowed the pace. “Patience, my love.”

  “Screw patience!” She shoved back onto him.

  He gasped and caught her around the waist, pulling her upper body off the bed. He growled, raising the hairs on her neck. “You will learn to obey!”

  “Obey, my ass!” She was sitting right on the vicious edge of an explosion that was going nowhere fast. If he didn’t let her come soon, she was going to kill him slowly and painfully. She clenched her teeth. “I want to come, damnit!”

  Holding her trapped firmly against his body, he shoved one knee up on the mattress. He reached up and cupped her breasts in his warm palms, pinching and rolling the swollen tips between thumb and forefinger.

  Thorn whimpered with the exquisite fire stirred by his fingers.

  He thrust in earnest, pistoning and grinding up into her body. “You may come when I so will it—not before.”

  She tried to grind back down on him, but this position kept her practically immobile. She wailed in boiling frustration.

  The vampire gasped. His hot mouth and velvety tongue caressed the long muscle along her shoulder.

  Climax rose within her, hot and fast, cresting and holding on the edge of madness. She felt the scrape of his long teeth and trembled. “Please…please…” She knew damned well she was begging, but she really couldn’t care less.

  He pulled free of her body.

  She cried out in denial, only to be turned to face him and shoved down onto the sheets. She sprawled on her back.

  He came over her and surged within her in one brutally hard thrust.

  She arched up from the mattress, howling in carnal welcome.

  He bared his long teeth and thrust hard into her, then again, and again…“Now—now you may come.” His head dropped, and his teeth sank into her shoulder.

  Release exploded through her in a hot, wet rush of brutal glory that burned up her arching spine and ripped a scream from her throat. She bucked frantically under him, her nails scoring his butt and thighs.

  He ground into her, riding her climax, moaning against her neck.

  She came down from her release panting under him and soaked in sweat, the air perfumed with the rich musk of lust.

  His tongue stroked the bite on her shoulder. “Thorn….” His mouth found hers in a leisurely but thorough kiss.

  Thorn kissed him back, glad to her soul to have him exactly where he was, safe in her arms.

  His arms closed tight around her, and he rolled to his side, their bodies locked in carnal intimacy and their legs entwined. His tongue swept deliciously against hers. A purr boiled from his chest. He pulled back and stared at her with eyes dark yet hooded with sleepy heat. “My love….” He brushed the hair from her damp brow and then pressed a kiss there. He pulled her against his heart. “And now, to sleep.”

  A knock at the door awakened Yaroslav and Thorn.

  Yaroslav opened the interior door to admit a conductor pushing a breakfast cart and an attendant carrying a pair of suit presses with a change of clothes for each of them.

  Breakfast was eaten while the suit presses were opened.

  Half a piece of toast hanging from her mouth, Thorn pulled out the frilly white blouse embroidered in red, the green velvet skirt, the pair of white lacy petticoats, and then the black velvet bodice embroidered in red silk. She was not amused. The striped stockings and the frilly bloomers were even less cause for amusement. However, this time, sensible boots had been provided.

  She finished her toast and turned to glare at Yaroslav. “Was this your idea?”

  Yaroslav turned, holding a white men’s shirt that was nearly as heavily embroidered in red thread as her blouse. “No, it was not.” He frowned and lifted black velvet trousers also trimmed in red embroidery. “I suspect we are seeing my prince’s sense of humor. This is Russian festival attire.”

  Thorn lifted the green velvet skirt. “Do I have to actually wear this?”

  Yaroslav sighed. “I do not think we have much choice in the matter. We are expected before the prince upon arrival.”

  Thorn groaned. “I don’t even know how to put all this stuff on!”

  Yaroslav stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, embracing her. “I will help you.” His lips caressed h
er throat, leaving delicate shivers in his wake.

  Thorn lifted her chin and groaned. “Oh? You’re actually going to help me get into clothes, as opposed to out of them?”

  Yaroslav sighed. “Unfortunately we have time for little else. The train will reach the station soon.”

  Thorn stuck out her bottom lip. “Damn, that’s a pity.”

  Yaroslav pressed a kiss to her brow. “Yes, I know.”

  They stepped off the train in an obscure little town in the heart of the mountains.

  Thorn eyed Yaroslav and pulled her green wool cloak close about her shoulders. He had chosen to wear his black fur rather than the bright red wool coat with all the gold thread and tassels. She was almost disappointed.

  A waiting pony cart took them to the very far side of town and a very old hotel set tight against a cliff face.

  Yaroslav nodded to the desk clerk and walked straight down the hall to a pair of very old doors set into marble arches. They opened onto a hallway that ended in a very modern, wrought-iron-gated, elevating lift set into a shaft that rose straight up into the mountain.

  Yaroslav opened the gate, ushered Thorn within, and cleared his throat. “This is Yaroslav. The main office of the Penumbral Senate, if you please. I am expected.”

  Thorn had overheard Antonius saying that Prince Rafael had not been amused. Standing across the hall from the closed door to the prince’s palace office, staring at the ridiculously high, arched, and vaulted ceiling, Thorn had no problems believing it whatsoever.

  Rafael was shouting at Yaroslav loud enough to wake the dead in what she suspected was pure Russian. She was almost glad she had no clue what the prince was saying.

  She looked across the hall at Antonius, posted directly in front of the door in his plain black robes and armor. He was wincing. That couldn’t be good.

  Thorn cringed. Well, at least heavy objects weren’t being tossed around in there, so there was some hope. She looked up the deserted hall to the tall, arched window at the far end.

  She’d been in that hallway since dawn—only an hour after they had left the train. The lift had brought them straight into the palace—and she had absolutely no idea how.