by Lora Leigh
“It’s a hobby of mine, actually,” he admitted a bit mockingly. “Do you think I will one day perfect the art?”
She snorted at the question. “I think you already have.”
“Excellent. I always strive to do my best in all areas.” He straightened from the doorway and walked toward her.
Ariel watched him suspiciously as he moved to the couch, then sat down beside her. The small sofa left little room for her to occupy. She cast him a reproving glare as he leaned closer.
“It is a simple matter,” he said softly, his breath wafting over her ear, nearly causing her to shiver in response. “You can sleep in that nice large bed with me. A king-sized bed, with plenty of room for the two of us, so that I may be assured of your safety. Or, we can sit right here. But as close as I am to you…” She jerked as he smoothed his cheek over her shoulder. “I will begin to wonder how that intriguing little lobe of your ear will feel against my lips…” He suited words to action, catching the bit of flesh between his lips then swiping it with the warmth of his tongue.
“Stop that.” Ariel shot from the couch, staring back at him resentfully as he smiled innocently.
She could feel the caress echoing along her body, causing her vagina to ripple at the sensation, her clit to swell beseechingly. Damn him, he was evil. Pure, black-hearted evil.
“I cannot help myself.” He shrugged, unrepentant. “The choice is yours. Come to bed so that I may sleep, or we can play this little game through the night until you falter through sheer exhaustion. It is entirely up to you.”
“I don’t want to sleep with you,” she snarled between clenched teeth. He didn’t seem to care.
His expression hardened, his eyes once again swirling with a darker gray color than before.
“But I want you to sleep with me,” he replied silkily. “So which will it be, Mistress? Do we play this game through the night, or do we sleep?”
She snarled furiously. “I’m going to cut your heart out. I swear to God, I’m going to take that dagger and dig it out piece by tiny, tiny piece.”
Genuine amusement filled his eyes then. “You are welcome to try.”
He came to his feet in a surge of strength. That strength seemed to fill the room, wrap around her, make her nearly heady with the intensity of it.
“Bedtime then,” he announced. “I will allow you to keep the gown this time, but eventually I think I would want to feel you bare against me.”
Ariel gaped back at him. Slowly, she drew in a deep, hard breath then smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile, and she made certain of it. It was a baring of teeth, a cold, hard warning to anyone smart enough to understand the anger pulsing inside her.
“Do you think you will, Shanar?” she deliberately cooed sensually, lowering her eyelids to half-mast as she watched him carefully now.
What was that? His pupils flared, the color in his eyes turning a light, gorgeous blue-gray that was almost entrancing.
“I think I most definitely want that.” His voice was rougher now, no longer the silky rumble it had before.
“And you think all you have to do is ask for it?” She allowed her fingers to toy with the belt to her robe as she watched him from beneath her lashes.
He cleared his throat, his eyes trained on her hands.
“I can be persuasive.” He sounded much too serious.
Her eyes narrowed further.
“Ohh, I bet you could be,” she murmured, loosening the belt and slowly drawing the robe down her shoulders.
He swallowed tightly, his gaze rising to hers. What she saw then stilled the cruel words that had risen first to her lips. The ones where she would have assured him in no uncertain terms that he would never be smooth enough, sharp enough or quick enough to deserve her nakedness against him. It wouldn’t have mattered that they were a lie, that it was no more than a furious parry back at him.
But she couldn’t do it. For a moment, she glimpsed such naked, unabashed longing in his eyes that it held her speechless.
“I would never force you.” The quaint, almost old world way he had of talking combined with the sudden somber intensity in his gaze had her breathing out with fury. But not fury with him. Fury with herself.
“Oh, just go to sleep,” she muttered, jerking the robe from her shoulders as she crawled beneath the blankets. “And stay on your own damned side of the bed, too. No touching. No crowding. No blanket hogging.”
She kept her eyes averted, but she caught the flash of bare skin, the more than impressive length of a thick, savagely ready erection jutting out from his body as he walked to his side of the bed.
Her mouth watered. Now that was impressive. Evidently, all of his body was proportional; it boggled the mind.
The bed dipped, the blankets lifted.
“You didn’t say I couldn’t sleep nude.” Satisfaction filled his voice. “You are welcome to crowd me anytime, Ariel. I will make no objections.”
Chapter Seven
She was restless in her sleep. Shanar lay for a while watching her, seeing the play of emotions across her expressive face, the fear, the confusion. She lay on her side, turned to him now rather than away from him, lying diagonally on the large bed. Moments before she had been on her back, her head in the corner, her feet pushing at his legs in an attempt to stretch them toward the opposite corner. She was never still.
He could feel the crystal trying to soothe her. The threads of energy pouring through it and wrapping around her were maternal in their sensations, attempting to calm what could not be calmed.
If only he could ease her. He reached out, his finger smoothing back a stray lock of hair that fell over her brow and had her swiping at it occasionally. He had taken to moving it himself for her, hoping to ease her in what small way he could.
The coming days would be hard for her, and most likely filled with danger. A danger he hadn’t wanted her to face, but if the information they had learned was true, then the third mistress, Caitlin, would show herself soon. The Mistress of the Water Crystal would face a greater danger than even Chantel or Ariel had.
Chantel had felt the force of the rains as Ariel called the elements to her. All three of the sister crystals had connected with the Earth stone to amplify their powers and aid the wind in saving Ariel’s life.
Jonar would know that, and he would be searching for the Mistress of the Water Crystal now. It was moving quickly, he thought with an edge of sorrow. There would be no time to shelter Ariel, to ease her into the life she had been born to know. She was being thrown into it, and she would fight it. Fighting it could get her killed.
Shane sighed wearily. Caitlin had been the wife to Derek, the Wizard. An Irish lass who had eyes of sea-green and a fine temper to match. Chantel had been attempting to connect with her third sister since Ariel had been found. She had tracked the Water Mistress to one small area, but could not connect with her fully. As legend told, only Ariel could find the sister who came after her. Just as only Caitlin could find Arriane, the wife to Joshua, the fourth and final sister, and the key to destroying Jonar. Finding their wives and the destinies that were ripped from them were of prime importance. And only destroying Jonar would ensure those destinies.
As he watched her sleep, he moved his hand to the crystal, gripping it lightly, feeling the warmth and the power it contained and infusing it with more of his own. He was strength, his body of the earth, his powers amplified, magnified. There was plenty enough for the crystal to use what it required.
And it drew from him, just as it had been created to do. He could feel it strengthening, feel it taking from his strength what it needed to reach into the deepest parts of her mind and to release all that she had, and could be. He was her strength. The Legacy of the Savage and the Wind Mistress foretold this, just as she was his soul.
“I send you ease… I send you peace…” he whispered, watching her closely. “Rest, beloved, while you can…”
She woke, her body tangled with his, his arms wrapped around her, one o
f her legs pushed between his as she sprawled over his chest. A warm, hard chest that felt too good, too solid beneath her cheek.
Her lips quirked into a drowsy smile as she realized she was on his side of the bed. She was a greedy sleeper and was prone to sprawl out in the bed after going to sleep. She had no doubt it was more her fault than his that she ended up on his chest. Not that it wasn’t a nice place to wake up. It was. Comfortable, warm, peaceful. But highly disconcerting.
Biting her lip, she glanced up, seeing the peaceful relaxation on his face, the charm that hadn’t been as readily apparent the night before when she had been so damned furious with him. It was there now. Breathtaking, not exactly handsome, but a hard-boned, weathered face that spoke of life and battles won. His chin was impossibly stubborn, his nose a bit crooked, but mostly straight and arrogant. High cheekbones, wide eyes and a broad forehead. A warrior. Wasn’t that what he called the others the night before? It suited him better.
The Savage shall come on the winds, Ariel. He will bring with him danger, blood and hope. He is salvation. He is death. He is the chosen mate…
Her heart slammed in her chest as she moved to jerk away from him. Chosen mate, her ass.
“Stay.” His arms snapped into place around her, restraining her effectively, pinning her to the massive length of his body.
“In your dreams!” she snapped, instantly rising to the autocratic tone. “I’m not a damned dog for you to command.”
He snorted at that. “Stay still. One moment more. I want to enjoy this.”
“Enjoy what?” she questioned furiously between clenched teeth.
He sighed wearily. “The lack of a delicate little foot planting itself in my shin. Woman, you are dangerous to sleep with.”
His voice was filled with such male frustration that she couldn’t help but almost grin. But just almost.
“Let me go, moron.” She pushed at his chest in disgust. “I told you I didn’t want to sleep with you.”
Before she could do more than gasp, he twisted, bearing down on her, holding her effectively in place by simply pressing his long legs between hers. The length of her gown was now caught between him and the bed, holding her tight as she stared up at him in surprise.
“Now this is much better,” he sighed then. “You should return the favor and let me nap just like this.”
His elbows held the better part of his weight from her, but nothing could hide the prodding of his erection between her thighs as he rested his head against her cloth-covered breasts.
Shock traveled through her as she had to fight her reaction to him. She could feel her blood boiling in her body, though not in outrage as it should be. Like bonds of invisible steel, chains silken and yet unbreakable, sensation began to bind her to him. Everywhere he touched, he was a familiar weight. She remembered, she knew, she had awakened many, many nights, reaching for this.
She breathed in, a shuddering breath of knowledge that she wanted nothing to do with as she tried to push the memories away. How often had she awakened, convinced it was another place, another life, reaching for someone, knowing he should be there. Knowing this was what she had sought.
“You are so soft, so warm against me,” he whispered, his breath hot through the material of her gown as it blew over her nipple.
That traitorous bit of flesh tightened, becoming a hard, aching point of delight at the attention.
“We need to stop this.” She had to force the words past her lips, though she wanted nothing more than to call them back.
“Not yet,” he whispered. “Just a moment longer.”
A strangled gasp escaped her when she felt his tongue settle on the diamond-hard point of her nipple, licking, prodding at it, sensitizing it so fiercely that she shuddered in response.
Lazily, lasciviously, he painted the hardened tip as she fought to find a defense against the pleasure whipping through her. It wasn’t fair, she thought, to find this, to need this, at a time when everything in her life had gone insane.
“I have dreamed of this, Ariel,” he whispered then, his hands tugging at the neckline of her gown as his lips moved higher. “You, soft and sweet beneath me, warm and welcoming. Just for a moment, welcome me, Ariel.”
His voice rumbled, echoed with the same needs she could feel flaring brightly in the pit of her soul. It shouldn’t be like this. So intense, so desperate that she couldn’t deny it. She shouldn’t remember the long, lonely years and the loneliness she had suffered from.
She lay beneath him, fighting for strength. Just enough strength to deny him, to make her body stop arching, her hands to stop clenching on his thick forearms. The familiarity of him to stop permeating her senses.
“You taste of spring,” he groaned as his lips smoothed over her collarbone, his tongue painting a trail of fiery sensations. “So fresh and delicate. I want just to taste you, beloved…”
She had heard those words before. A whisper of memory, a bed of furs and this man rising over her.
A whimper escaped her as his lips moved up her neck, along her cheek. His hands framed her face now, his fingers reaching into her hair, thumbs smoothing beneath her jaw to hold her in place. Not that she was fighting. Anticipation coiled in her belly, ran thick and hot along the sensitized lips of her cunt. It caused her clit to swell, her breasts to ache. It held her suspended within a web of gossamer passion and heated kisses.
His lips smoothed over hers, striking a blow of arousal that she couldn’t have expected deep into the heart of her womb. It wasn’t a touch unfamiliar and surprising. It was a kiss too familiar, too long missed. And that frightened her more than anything.
She opened her lips anyway as a groan of surrender escaped them and her tongue reached out tentatively to touch his. Her eyes closed as she let the sensations sink into her very being. She couldn’t fight them, not now, not yet. It was as though something or someone else lived within her, someone who knew this man’s taste, his touch. Yet it was her. She trembled at the thought.
God, it was good. Had anything ever felt as good as his hands holding her still for his kiss, his lips moving over hers demandingly, his tongue tangling with hers, stroking a fire inside her she couldn’t have imagined existing? Just for a moment, she wanted to relish each pleasure, to immerse herself in a touch given in hunger and in need. And she could feel that hunger, wrapping around her, tightening about her with fierce bands of lust.
Before she knew, before she realized the implications, she lifted herself to him. Her hands were on his shoulders, then at his neck, sinking into his hair as she held him closer. She needed more, deeper, harder. The hungry moan that escaped her throat shocked her, but not enough to stop the demand rising inside her.
She couldn’t feel enough. No touch was deep enough, hard enough, strong enough. She shifted beneath him, her hips lifting to the pressure nudging against her gown, pressing against the sensitive lips of her pussy.
He was gentle. Too damned gentle. But he controlled the kiss for now, controlled the movement of her body, how deeply he tasted or allowed her to taste, how much sensation she received.
It was too much.
It wasn’t enough.
She growled low and deep, her hands clenching in his hair, tugging at the strands as she used them to try to pull his head closer, to force him to deepen the kiss. That lasted for seconds only. Before she could guess his intentions, his hands left her face, gripped hers then slammed them to the bed before his head tilted, his lips slanting over hers and devouring the passion rising inside her.
This was what she knew awaited her. Sizzling heat exploded through her body, drawing tighter against him as his tongue plundered her mouth, hard, deep groans tearing from his chest as his hips began a gentle thrust and retreat between her thighs.
Oh God. That was too good. She could feel the broad head of his erection, burning hot, pressing into her, nothing but her gown holding it back and she wished he would rip the cloth from between them. She needed more. So much more.
&
nbsp; “Yes,” he growled as his lips slid from hers to her neck once again.
Stinging little kisses were pressed to the flesh only to be soothed by the heat of his tongue. Ariel fought his hold, twisting beneath him, desperate to feel his lips devouring hers again.
But this, this was different. She moaned, a low whimpering sound of pleasure as new sensations began to whip through her. She opened her eyes, gazing down at where his lips covered the peak of one swollen breast, gown and all.
His teeth rasped against it, his cheeks hollowing as he drew on the tiny point, his tongue lashing it erotically.
For a moment, one long sensual moment, she knew him and she knew what was coming. She knew the expression on his face, drowsy, intensely sensual, filled with hunger. And then it happened. He took her wrists in one big hand as the other lowered to the bodice of her gown. In one strong move, he ripped the material free of her upper body as greedy, unabashed lust suddenly overwhelmed them both.
His hand cupped the hard mound of her breasts, his lips covering her nipple once again and Ariel could do nothing but cry out at the storm that began to rush through her. Her womb contracted, silky warmth spilled from between her thighs to dampen the tip of his cock as it pressed against her. She tightened, her breath catching, caught between reality and fantasy, knowing him and fearing him as heat exploded in the pit of her stomach.
Chapter Eight
Shudders raced through her body, almost ecstasy, almost rapture but not quite. She twisted against him, knowing there was more waiting, knowing yet not knowing where this path of pleasure would lead her.
“Shane…” She wailed his name as the tremors of pleasure shook her body.
She couldn’t escape it, couldn’t deny it. She had known his touch before, trusted it, needed it. She needed him.
“Easy, Ariel,” he whispered, panting as his lips smoothed over the engorged flesh of her breast then. “Just feel, baby. It’s okay, I’ll hold onto you.”
Her head thrashed on the bed. She could feel the perspiration gathering on her naked flesh, the heat of the room, of his body. Her body.