by Vivian Arend
She swallowed hard. He was the fire, she was the moth. She had to get up, had to get away, for he’d consume her entirely, but just as a moth would, she leaned not away, but deeper into him.
“Roses. Sweet, succulent roses.”
There were so many questions she should be asking, so many things she should say. “Why didn’t you return to me after that night?”
It wasn’t at all what she’d intended to say, but the truth she kept trying so hard to deny won out.
His lashes fluttered. “Do you want me?”
She liked that he didn’t play games, that she didn’t have to try to figure out what Rumpel meant.
“Too much to be sane.”
He flipped his hand over, revealing a black satin eye mask. “Tie this on.”
She laughed. “Please tell me you did not come expecting?” She plucked it from his hand and held it up by a string, but she couldn’t deny she’d hoped that by lying down in such an open and exposed section of the garden she might entice him to come out and join her, and maybe even initiate an encounter, exactly as he was doing.
Yes, the siren in her had instigated the entire scenario.
His smile slipped, turning from jovial to predatory. The gleam of sexual need winked at her from the depths of his golden amber eyes. His animal was ready to play. Shaking with nerves and anticipation, she quickly tied the mask on.
Immediately his scent of sulfur and smoked cherries surrounded her, and for a brief minute she wondered if that was her kryptonite. Smoked cherries, peaty whiskey, and cloves, because anytime she smelled it on him it drove her absolutely wild.
Then she yelped, because powerful hands were scooping her up.
“Today I will taste you as I’ve dreamt of doing since my fingers had you by the fire.”
“Good heavens.” What a horribly silly thing to say and she might have even been mortified, except that his skilled hands were already jerking at her pale green day dress.
“Lift your arms,” he ordered.
Shoving them high into the air, she moaned when he shucked her gown off her. The breeze kissed her naked flesh and the fact that she could not see him, but he could see all of her, made her feel wicked and naughty and completely turned on.
He laughed. “You’re a siren true.” His heated words feathered along the curve of her neck and her body flared to life as he traced the line between her breasts.
Moaning at the exquisite sensations he brought out in her, she dug her fingers into his biceps.
“What are you going to do to me today?” Her excitement echoed through her breathlessness.
She didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. She was shoved roughly against the tree trunk. The bark bit into her flesh and it was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure.
“You like that, don’t you?” he asked between nips at her collarbone.
Shaking, she clung to him for dear life as her world tilted on its axis. His silky wet tongue glided along her flesh, made her ache and her blood sing.
Large, hot hands traced the swells of her breasts and she grunted, twisting her face to the side, wishing she could toss the mask off and look at her lover as he now looked at her.
But she could imagine what he looked like. Ebony skin gleaming in the hot sun, glowing red eyes, and that sensual, smoldering look of his that made her wet the moment he turned to her.
“Rose-tipped nipples. Gods, woman,” he said breathlessly, and then his mouth was upon her and she cried out, digging her nails into his scalp, demanding he stay where he was and worship her.
She’d never allowed another to touch her this way. To hold her, to caress the intimate flesh of her body. Cold and hot, nerves a riotous explosion of too much and not enough, his touch consumed her.
His teeth scraped and she cried out at the shocking flare of pain that was quickly soothed away by his wet tongue and warm kisses.
“I’ve studied you too.” His words were gentle, even while his touch was not. His hand was kneading her other breast and she couldn’t help but thrust into it, wanting more and more.
“And what have you discovered?” she ground out.
Then his lips were on her, teasing around the hardened tip, and she whimpered, clamping onto her lip with such force she almost broke skin.
“That a siren”—he licked at her nipple like it was a treat and as he did so, his palm cupped her lower stomach, his fingers dancing right above her aching, wet center—“likes it hard, and rough, and fast, and just a little bit—”
He slipped one finger inside her, and a throaty, full-bodied moan exploded from her throat.
“Dangerous.”
She was fully alive. A creature of touch, of sensation, she wasn’t Shayera in this moment. She was her siren, an animal ruled by her passions, by her baser and most elemental need.
Sex.
“Above you is a tree limb. Grab it.”
She obeyed without compunction.
He moved away from her, dropping his hands, but even in total darkness she felt his gaze burn through her. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”
Digging her fingers into the rough bark, she could only imagine. Pale, naked, with her red frizzy hair whipping like charmed cobras around her head.
“Tell me,” she whispered.
“Like a vision.” She heard his smile, the awe of his words, and could not understand it.
She was just Shayera. A troublesome little redheaded hermit.
“Spread your legs for me.”
Shivering, and not from cold, she parted her thighs and then trembled when his finger ran along her wet slit.
“So pink. So wet. My jewel.” He moaned and then he did the most shocking, amazing, wonderful thing.
His mouth replaced his hand and she shook so hard the tree branch groaned. Crying out, she jumped back. Everything inside her rioted—her nerves, her breaths, her ability to reason.
“Do not move,” he growled in that throaty whisper of his, and then his hands clamped onto her thighs and she wanted to die the moment his tongue stroked her there.
“Rumpel,” she moaned. “I want to touch you.”
“Not yet.” He feasted on her, sucking and laving, and her head swam.
The dark world spun out of control.
“Rumpel,” she cried out, half in fear, half in pleasure.
“Trust me, Carrot, and let go. When it feels right, let go.”
She felt like she might internally combust, might explode from the inside out. She felt heavy and light at once, both tethered to the ground and free as a bird.
His fingers played expertly upon her thighs and calves, massaging her, and all she could do was twist upon his mouth, and when she came it was like a supernova blast of energy. Lights danced behind her eyes from squeezing them so hard, and the only word she could say was his name.
He didn’t stop until she fell limp against him.
“Now let go of the branch.”
The moment she did, he pulled her tight to his chest and gradually laid them upon the ground. Patting her hair, he whispered sweet nonsense into her ear and she was sure she’d never return from the mindless pleasure.
“Are you back yet, siren?” He chuckled, and she swatted his chest.
“What did you do to me? I swear you sucked the very soul from my body.”
Placing a tender kiss upon her mouth, he nuzzled her cheek, and she still tasted herself on him. It was odd, but not altogether unpleasant.
“Do you want to know me too, love?” His finger toyed with a curl of her hair, he twirled it about her nipple and she nodded.
“Yes. I do.”
He inhaled. “Would you like to touch me as I touched you?”
She knew something of what a male member looked like. There were farms aplenty in her quiet hamlet, and it was easy enough to catch a glimpse of animals doing what they do. The thought of allowing Rumpel to shove something as large as a horse’s part into her mouth made her incredibly nervous.
/> “Will it hurt?” she whispered, fisting his shirt.
Stroking her cheek, he said, “I will not force anything upon you. If you do not like it, then we stop. Do we have a deal?”
She smiled. “Will I need to seal it in blood?”
His laughter filled her with joy. Whenever he was like this, Rumpel wasn’t the haughty male, he was warm and friendly, and she liked this side of him. Very, very much.
“For you, I forgo my usual payment.”
“Oh, how kind, dark prince.” She patted her chest.
He rolled out from under her, and then she heard the shuffle and movement of clothes peeling off. When he rejoined her a minute later, there was only skin pressed to skin.
Sucking in a breath, she traced her fingers over him, letting her palm slowly scrape along the length of him, learning him by touch alone. His breathing was sharp and heavy, but he did not stop her as she glided along the ridged cords of muscle, dipped her finger into his belly button, and finally smoothed her palm over the coarse hairs of his thighs.
Sitting up to a kneeling position, she nibbled on her lip and he moaned.
“Gods, I could come just from looking at you this way.”
Smiling, licking her lips, she continued her sensual exploration and stilled when she encountered the long thickness of him.
“Rumpel?” She wasn’t sure why she’d said his name. Maybe she was asking for help, for guidance, or maybe she just needed to say it.
“Take my cock and stroke me.” He grabbed her hand in his and guided her to the length of him.
She shivered as he glided their twined fingers up and down; he was veiny and yet impossibly smooth, especially at the tip. “It feels like velvet.”
He moaned, and his leg twitched against her buttocks. “Harder,” he grunted.
When she squeezed, he loosened her grip just a little.
“Gentle but hard, love. Like this.” And he proceeded to show her how to move, not too hard, but not too soft either.
She smiled, wondering if he realized that just as he had the other night, he’d called her love. She was sure it was just a meaningless phrase, especially while in the middle of the coital act, but it warmed her just the same.
Harder they pumped, and then he released his hand. “Just you. Yes.” He sighed when she gave him a firm squeeze down at the base. “Gods, yes.”
He was lost in her, she knew it. Felt it in the way he quaked, how he moaned, and the desire to feel him on her tongue as he’d felt her consumed Shayera.
Wiggling back just an inch, she released him and bent over.
“Damn, woman,” he hissed when she licked at the tip. “You will be the death of me.”
Laughing, empowered by his declaration and emboldened by her sexual awakening, she opened wider and took him all the way in. He stretched her, filled her, but not unpleasantly. What she couldn’t take into her mouth—because he really was quite large—she held tight to, and her bobbing and squeezing at the same time seemed to make him come unhinged.
His back bowed and his hand dropped to the back of her head. “Just there, love. Just… just…”
And then he stopped talking because he was growling and she laved and licked at him as if he were the sweetest dessert she’d ever had. She wasn’t sure what made her do it, but she hummed, and that was the catalyst that seemed to finally do him in.
Shoving her off him, he howled, and she placed a hand on his back to feel the spasms ripple down his spine.
“Rumpel, are you okay?” She frowned, worried that he’d shoved her off because she’d somehow done it wrong.
But then he was laughing and pulling her into his chest and kissing her brow and temples. “Fine. Amazing. That was—”
“Fun,” she finished for him and she licked her lips.
Their sexual frenzy detoured into a hot-and-steamy session of petting and kissing afterward, nuzzling and cuddling, and apart from the mask that was driving her completely insane, she never wanted to leave this moment.
“I do not want to let you go,” he whispered against her hair.
She sighed. “Once you shift, we cannot touch this way.”
“Unfortunately”—he spun a length of her hair around his finger—“we cannot remain here forever.”
Leaning up on an elbow, she grinned. “Why not? It’s the most fun I’ve had since coming here.”
For a moment he didn’t answer and curiosity burned her. What was he thinking? Was he angry? Annoyed? Ready to toss her back to her room?
“Shayera, I do not want you to leave, because the moment I change, I feel I cannot be who I truly am.”
It was more truth than she’d ever expected to get from him, and humbled, she sat up. “Why not? Why can’t you just be yourself at all times with me? I enjoy this, with you. I know in my village that men and women engage in these acts and they do not require an utterance of lifelong devotion. I am not asking that from you, Rumpel. So why make it difficult?”
He sighed and the sound of it was so sad that she ached to hug him. “Because I am a prince, I am the broker, there are sides of me and they are all me and all demanding of my time. But who you’re with now, this is me too. A side I’ve not let loose for far too long. A side I can never indulge for long because…”
“The rest take priority,” she finished.
“For one so young,” he said, his hand framing her face, “you are very wise.”
“You sound surprised by that.” She smiled, nipping at the finger closest to her mouth.
He chuckled. “I am.”
But she knew the moment he said it that their time had come to an end. “It’s time to change isn’t it?”
“Mm.” He moved away from her and already she missed his warmth.
“Will I at least get to see you one day? The real you?”
Sulfur surrounded her and she yanked at her mask, knowing he’d changed. Somehow, in the brief moment between him holding her and moving away, he’d changed and was once again fully clothed. As she now was.
“No, you can never see me as I truly am. You would be forever changed for it, Shayera, and I would never ask that of you.”
Slipping his hands into his pockets, he looked back toward the castle. “I will dine with you this night and every night henceforth. We will talk and laugh and I will be the best companion you’ve ever known. But what we did today, it cannot happen again.”
Those last four words were like a blow to her heart.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Standing before the full-length mirror, Rumpel took his time dressing. He wasn’t sure why he was doing this. She’d never seemed to mind his jeans and rock-concert shirts before, but after what they’d done this afternoon, he felt it only appropriate.
Giles returned from the closet with a long, navy-blue tailcoat draped across his arm. Laying it gently down on the bed, he took a lint brush to it.
Glancing at his man in the mirror, Rumpel rolled his eyes. “You can go ahead and say whatever it is that’s on your mind. Your mood is a stench in my nostrils.”
Showing no reaction to the obvious goading, ever the proper butler, Giles continued to brush as he said, “You seem well.”
The fact that the two of them never made small talk said it all. Something was obviously on the man’s mind. Rumpel shoved a gold cufflink inscribed with the rune of his clan through his sleeve. “I’ve know you long enough to know that is not at all what you meant to say.”
Finally looking up, Giles slicked down the side of his neck, then tugged at his bowtie before nodding. “It is only that I’ve noticed lately you seem more your old self.”
Frowning, Rumpel turned to face his valet.
Quick to explain, Giles moved out from behind the bed and pointed up and down Rumpel’s frame. “She has a good effect on you, sir. Have you not reconsidered at all your stance on the girl?”
Giles was the only one Rumpel could be completely honest with, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the process. He turned back around to
the mirror—it would be easier to talk with a pane of glass between them. “Of course I’ve thought of it. I think of it constantly. Especially these last few days.”
Twisting his lips, Giles spread his hands. “When she first arrived, I saw her as the possibility and hope for the same thing you did, but she’s been good for you in ways I could not have imagined and I find myself grateful to her for it.”
Shaking his head, Rumpel reached for the crushed red cravat and with snappy, jerky movements tied it on. “Sentiment is folly, Giles. Emotions kill. Surely you, more than anyone else in my life, understand that. I cannot be swayed from my cause just for a mere bit of flesh.”
Cocking his head, lips thinning, his servant did not look amused. “She’s more than that to you, and well I know it. You’ve treated her in a way you’ve done with only one other. I did not mean to catch you today—”
Growling, Rumpel rounded, stabbing a finger in the air. “Did you look at her?”
“No, master.” He shook his head firmly. “Once I saw you shift, I made the connection and swiftly turned my gaze and made sure no other would enter the room to see you either. You have my word. But you shifted for her, knowing the dangers you exposed yourself to by doing it. Demone never show weakness except for—”
Scoffing, Rumpel marched to his oak cabinet and pulled out a blue ribbon to tie his hair back with. It was the style for demone royals to always wear their hair long and free and to never cut it, and while he’d held on to most of the old ways, he liked to change things up every once in a while.
“Once, I loved. Dearly. Passionately. I would have done anything for Caratina, and I did. I let her decide my fate and I did it willingly, gladly even. All to make her happy.” He spread his arms.
“She was happy, sir, deliriously so. She adored you, and you did the right thing.”
“Right thing!” He laughed, but not because he took joy from the story. “My father’s avarice hurt our nation, but my abdication destroyed it. My people are in ruins because I walked away. How in the hell was that the right thing? She died, Euralis is gone mad, no…” He shook his head, tying the string in his hair so tightly it stung. “I was a fool then, and I will not be a fool again.”