Bound Guardian Angel

by Donya Lynne

  He was a hurricane making landfall against her body. Warmth spilled against her inner flesh, and she actually smiled as she fought back happy tears. She could feel it. She could feel every inch of him, every stroke, every spurt, every quiver of his stomach against hers, and every contraction of his biceps as he continued to rock himself against her.

  Eventually, the euphoria subsided, and he gradually pushed himself up on his arms, breathless, glistening with sweat, gloriously virile and the damn sexiest thing Cordray had ever laid eyes on.

  His tongue peeked out and slowly wet his lips. His full, luscious lips. His gaze searched her face, and she tried not to breathe, not to move. She feared that if she did, she would scare him away. He had that startled, what-did-we-just-do look on his face.

  He blinked, frowned, then stared at her in wonder. “It’s you.” The words breathed out of him on a low, dazed whisper.

  Cordray exhaled. “It’s me.”

  It had actually happened.

  The one thing she never thought would.

  And it was Trace. It had always been Trace.

  This time, when the tears stung her eyes, she allowed them to fall.

  Because her true mate had finally found her.

  Chapter 31

  Trace had spent his entire adult life searching for his mate. The one who would align his body and soul in perfect harmony, soothe what pained him, and fill the emptiness that only a mate could fill. And now he had found her.

  He brushed his thumb over the apple of Cordray’s cheek, smearing a tear over her skin.

  “It’s you?” he said again. The pitch in his voice sounded puzzled even to his own ears, lilting like a question. “It’s really you.”

  From the moment he met Cordray, he knew she was different. She’d had a way of getting under his skin that no person, male or female, had ever been able to manage. She could do things to him no one else could, such as unlock the barriers around his thoughts. Not even Micah had been able to do that. Now he knew why. Because only a true mate could have such power.

  She still lay beneath him, naked except for the collection of Gothic rings around her fingers, her lip ring, the ruby stud in her nose, and the magnificent array of colorful tattoos all over her body. She was a rainbow of color and metal even in the darkness.

  He saw her in a new light now. She was no longer the wicked witch who could infiltrate his thoughts and mine out whatever she wanted. No longer did she set fear in his veins.

  That had been the real problem before. She had scared him. She had been the first to peel back his protective shield and expose his vulnerability. And he had reacted the only way he knew how when he perceived a threat. He’d lashed out. He’d pushed and shoved, terrified of the way she stripped him so easily, when all along, she was his mate.

  That was why she was able to do things to him no one else could, because she had been made expressly for him. Everything about her—her lustrous black hair with its dual-toned turquoise and aqua stripe, her sparkling blue eyes, the aristocratic slope of her nose, the subtle orange blossom scent that wafted from her body, even the silver lip ring and the miles of ink that decorated her skin—all of it was for him.

  “It’s been you all along.” Could he really have had this weeks ago? Could he have really known this incredible sense of belonging and joy if only he hadn’t been so locked inside his own self-imposed hell?

  Holding his breath, he gazed in wonder as he gently, slowly, so very carefully ran the tips of his fingers through her hair. It felt like satin, smooth and silky soft. He trailed his fingers lower, to her shoulder, and outlined a tattooed tendril of dark ivy that curved and twisted across her collarbones, connecting her shoulders. Her skin was velvety soft, unbelievably smooth.

  Her legs were still wrapped around his hips, locked at the ankles, but now they relaxed. Her feet slowly slide down the backs of his legs, her ankles finally unlocking mid-calf. She placed her feet on the floor, and he nestled more deeply into the cradle of her body, too comfortable to pull away as he continued discovering her.

  “All this time . . .” He inhaled then closed his eyes for a moment in an effort to make sense of the past few weeks. Then he blinked his eyes open and continued his visual exploration of the last female he would ever love. “You were in front of me all this time.” He spoke softly, his deep voice filled with awe.

  Cordray didn’t speak. Didn’t even blink. Her eyes held his, and he saw the same fascination in her expression that he was feeling.

  His thumb played over her lip ring. He brushed it with the pad of his thumb, marveling at how he could have had this all along had he not been so blindly stubborn.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Her full, dark-pink lips curved into a smile. “So are you.”

  As her palms took an exploratory journey of their own over the expanse of his chest, across his shoulders, and up the sides of his neck before gently cradling his face, he got the sense that she was trying to determine if he was really there. Whether what they’d done had really happened or she’d only dreamed it.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth.

  He had never kissed a female. Never. His mistresses had never allowed it.

  But tonight, he and Cordray had kissed. They had touched each other. He had felt her warmth. He’d experienced pleasure without first requiring pain. He had heard her moans, smelled the earthiness of her lust, feasted on her with his eyes, and tasted her musky flavor.

  He wanted to kiss her again. To drink the flavor of her lips. Her full, rosy lips, which parted even now as if in anticipation.

  As he slowly lowered himself, her fingers pulled at his cheeks.

  He’d never seen Cordray like this. Pliant, almost docile. She had shed her prickly shield and replaced it with an inviting warmth he wanted to lose himself in for a lifetime.

  He held his breath and paused less than an inch from her face.

  Her eyelids flickered open. Her long, dark lashes softly framed her incredible, bright-blue eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” she said.

  He gave a slow, subtle shake of his head. “Nothing. I just . . . I can’t stop looking at you.”

  “Then don’t close your eyes and kiss me, you big idiot.” The outer corners of her eyes lifted as the apples of her cheeks plumped.

  She thought that was funny, did she?

  “We’re going to have to do something about that mouth of yours.” He was still inside her. Still hard. He rolled his hips forward and back.

  Her smile evaporated as she closed her eyes and drew in a heady breath. As she exhaled, her eyelids peeled back open. This time her smile was one of lusty approval. One that expressed how much she liked what he was doing and didn’t want him to stop.

  “I can think of a few things you can do with my mouth.” Her arms slithered down and around his shoulders.

  He smirked, rolling his hips again. “Well, I think I have told you to suck my dick a time or two.” He rotated his hips again and smirked at the way her eyelids fluttered.

  “Yes, I do seem to”—she drew in her breath as he gently thrust into her—“oh, God, yes. I do remember you telling me that.”

  He’d never done this. Never engaged in sexual flirtation, dirty talk, or anything of the sort. But with Cordray, it felt as natural as breathing. Perhaps because verbal sparring seemed a way of life between them. Or maybe because she was his mate and everything would come easily between them now that he’d gotten out of his own way long enough to finally embrace her.

  Her legs wrapped around his waist again. He loved how good they felt encircling him, locking him against her body.

  “Remember how you once told me I couldn’t boss your dick?” she said.

  He grinned and pumped into her again. This was nice. Easy. So unlike anything he’d ever associated with her.

  He lowered his mouth to her neck and suckled the skin right above her vein. “Mm-hm. I remember.” He’d just been locked inside King Bain’s dungeon, and she’d paid hi
m a visit to inform him she would be his boss after he was released, to which he told her she couldn’t boss his dick.

  Funny how that seemed like a lifetime ago even though it had only been a few weeks. So much had changed since then. He’d mated her, for God’s sake.

  She sighed and ran one hand over the back of his head as her other slid down his spine to his ass. Then she let out a short, quiet laugh. “Looks like I can boss your dick, after all.”

  He nibbled his way up her neck, along her jaw, to her chin. “You were born to, baby.” Then he took her bottom lip between his teeth.

  She moaned, her eyes drifting shut.

  Releasing her lip, he pushed up on his arms and undulated his body over hers.

  “You might be able to boss my dick, honey, but this”—He thrust into her. Hard. Making her cry out and dig her fingernails into his back—“This is mine. I own it. It belongs to me now.” He pressed his pubic bone against her clit and ground his hips in a circle. He’d had enough experience in his mistress’s dungeons to know how to please a female, and he would take great pleasure showing Cordray all that he’d learned. “I dare you to deny it.”

  She shook her head, breathing harder as he continued thrusting into her.

  “Tell me you’re mine,” he said.

  She nodded. “I’m yours.”

  “Tell me I own you.”

  Her legs squeezed his waist as she shuddered and bit back a throaty groan. “You own me.”

  “Your body is mine.”

  “My body is yours.”

  “And don’t you ever forget it.” He growled, and his hips took on a life of their own.

  His arms strained as his own body fell into autopilot, claiming hers again, driving into her slick heat. He’d never experienced such raw need. The glorious intensity of making love. Truly making love. The complete submission of his inner beast so that all that remained was him. Trace. Only him. Stripped to his soul.

  He crushed her mouth with his. Opened, tasted, swept his tongue over hers as she locked her forearm behind his neck and held him against her. She met him more than halfway, lifting her head off the floor, bruising his lips with her own, nipping his bottom lip, nibbling, biting, orally attacking him. And Jesus! He loved it. She was his kind of female. Strong, lusty, fearless, taking what she wanted and demanding more.

  Breathless. She kissed him breathless, and his body responded, speeding into a higher gear he hadn’t known he possessed.

  Something cracked. Something wooden. Then it sounded like the legs of the table at the end of hall snapped in half. Glass shattered. Something heavy bounced down the stairs. But he was too enthralled with her body, her lips, her precious moans. Whatever destruction was happening elsewhere could wait. He was climbing toward orgasm number two, and nothing would stop his ascent.

  She cried into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound as her entire body fell into violent tremors.

  “Fuck!” He disengaged from her mouth, his fangs extending.

  The beat of her heart echoed inside his mind. He could hear her blood surging in her veins, could smell its lustrous scent. His stomach clenched. His cock throbbed.

  And God, he needed every part of her inside every part of him.

  With a feral growl, he surged against her and sank his fangs into the side of her neck, latching on, taking heavy drags of her life-giving blood.

  Mine, this is mine.

  God help anyone who spilled a drop of her precious blood from this day forward, because they would have to answer to him. As her mate, he would protect her. It was his instinctual duty to take care of her. He would destroy anyone who tried to hurt her.

  As his body let loose and spilled inside hers once more, he growled and sank his fangs even deeper as he rolled to his back, taking her with him. His arms shot around her and held her close, his hands buried in her hair as he took his fill and thrust his hips off the floor into her.

  The venom euphoria sent her into another orgasm, and she murmured something he couldn’t decipher as she trembled against him, her core pulsing hard on his cock.

  He released her vein and dropped his head to the floor. His cock continued to empty inside her.

  Once her euphoria wore off, she weakly crawled up his body, finding his mouth with hers, breathing him in, tasting her blood on his lips, connecting them in a complete circle.

  “More, please more.” She breathed the words against his mouth.

  He had given her all he had. “You’ve taken it all from me.”

  She grinned and settled in a drained, panting heap against him, head on his chest. “Wimp.” She chuckled weakly.

  “Wimp?” Trace was too depleted to do much more than lazily slap her ass, but even that came off as more of a love tap than a slap.

  She peeled her cheek off his slick skin and kissed his sternum. “Yes. Wimp.” She grinned up at him. “I’m going to have to do something about this lack of stamina if you’re going to satisfy the likes of me, Trace.”

  “Lack of stamina, my ass.” He felt like he’d just faced a typhoon . . . and won.

  “If the shoe fits.”

  Snorting derisively, he arched one eyebrow at her. “If you think you can build my stamina, Coco, then by all means, give it your best shot.”

  She mock-glared at him. “You are not allowed to call me Coco.”

  He grinned and glanced up at the ceiling. “Wicked witch?”

  “Only in the bedroom.”

  That made him laugh. “Sweetheart?”

  “Uh, hell no. As in, I’ll withhold any and all sexual pleasure if you ever call me that.”

  This was nice. Bantering with her in the afterglow.

  “Well, I give then. What am I allowed to call you?”

  She settled her chin on his chest. “You can start with Cordray.”

  “Well, duh.” He rolled his eyes at her as he absently began playing with her hair.

  She caressed his chest with the tip of her index finger. “Okay then, how about Master of the Universe. That would be nice.”

  “Oh, yes. That’s much better. Ego much?” He grinned at her. “Try again.”

  She smiled, and he liked the way it made her whole face light up. “Her Majesty?”

  He shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “Ew.”

  “Fine. What do you suggest?”

  He took a deep, cleansing breath. His body felt incredible. As good as it had after Micah worked him over, maybe better. No . . . not better. Just different. But good different. He lazily combed his fingers through her hair, still in awe of how she was able to send his power into the shadows like a punished child. But then, she was his mate. Of course she would hold sway over his inner demon. He grinned and twirled a strand of her hair around his fingers. “How about She Who Tamed the Beast?”

  A sparkle lit in her eyes, and one eyebrow arched in amusement. “Beast master?”

  He rolled the name around in his mind. “Yeah, beast master.” He liked it. Then he chuckled. “Can I call you BM for short?”

  She shook her head in exasperation. “You never turn off, do you?”

  “Nope.” He lifted his eyebrows questioningly. “So, can I?”

  “That would be a no,” she said, playfully slapping him and sitting up.

  He hated the wash of cold air on his cock as she slid off of him. “Oh come on. Why not?” He pushed himself off the floor, which was easier said than done with muscles as pliant as raw cookie dough.

  Cordray’s gaze ranged up and down the hall then homed back in on him. “Because the last thing I want to be associated with is a bodily function that involves shit, capiche?” She stood. “Did you do this?” She gestured at the broken glass, smashed ceramic bowls, broken picture frames, and what was once a table but now resembled kindling.

  He took in the disaster area. “Oops.” One corner of his mouth slid upward as he drank in the splendor of her naked body. “I might have gotten a little carried away. But it’s not entirely my fault.” His eyes met hers again a
s she stood over him.

  One of her eyebrows arched. “Oh? Are you saying that I’m somehow to blame for all this?” She gestured toward the wreckage, but he could tell she was fighting back a smile.

  He sat forward and slowly ran his palms up her thighs. The muscles quivered against his touch, and she let out a shaky exhale as she slowly lowered back down to straddle his legs.

  “If you weren’t so fucking incredible, I might not have lost control of my power.” He licked his lips. “Besides, I’ve never experienced anything like this before, so you’re gonna have to cut me some slack.”

  “When have I ever cut you slack?” Her fingers skimmed up the back of his arms then lightly gripped his shoulders.

  “Good point.” He linked his fingers at the small of her back and pulled her forward, locking her against him. “So . . . what are we going to do about this?” He nodded over her shoulder at the mess.

  They sat in silence for several seconds, their bodies drifting closer to one another, the vortex of desire beginning to spin again. Then Cordray let out an exaggerated, arousal-laced sigh. “If you ask me, it looks like we need to work on keeping your beast under control during extreme bouts of pleasure, and I think we need to work on it a lot.”

  His cock perked up at the suggestive glint in her eye. “I do like how you think, beast master.”

  She pulled away and pushed to her feet, lacing her fingers around his as he joined her. “No better time than the present?” She bobbed her head toward her bedroom.

  He nodded then followed close behind as she led him to her room. “Only if you’re not tired,” he teased.

  She stopped in the doorway and turned toward him, her face flushed as she shook her head. “Trace, I’ve waited for you a lot longer than you’ve waited for me. I can assure you, I’m not tired.” She swallowed thickly as if forcing back her emotions. “And even if I were, I can sleep later. After I know for sure this isn’t a dream I’m going to wake up from.”