She was his mate and he should know everything about her, but this...this was a surprise.
Ryn hated surprises.
Perhaps he was mistaken, and the changes in her were caused by the angle of the firelight or the exertion of walking. He would know soon enough.
They shared the bearskin bedroll, sitting close to the fire, but not too close. Juliet did not shiver as she had on those first nights, even though the air had grown considerably colder in days past. That was yet another clue that something had changed, or was in the process of changing.
“Anwyn do not feel the cold the way lowlanders do,” he said, his eyes turning to the fire for a moment.
“I judged that by your attire,” she said. “Or rather by the lack of it,” she added, actually smiling a little.
“It’s the blood of the wolf.”
She nodded and turned her head toward him, and there it was, that flash of gold in her brown eyes. Maybe it was the fire and he only imagined the gold. Maybe the flecks had been there all along and he had not noticed. His stomach sank a little. No. He had paid very close attention to everything about her. He had missed nothing.
“I’m sorry that I offered to cure you,” she said, desperate to change the subject to something safe. “It wasn’t my place to suggest that there’s anything wrong with who you are.”
He nodded his head slightly.
“It’s just...” She let the sentence die, but he heard the reservations in her voice, the uncertainty. Maybe she would not fight what she felt for him so strenuously if he didn’t have the wolf inside him.
“If I wish to deny the wolf, I need only travel far away from The City and The Heart.”
“The heart?” she repeated.
“The Heart of the Anwyn. It’s a sacred stone which is kept in the Queen’s palace, closely guarded by her most favored and trusted soldiers. I am one of those soldiers.”
She smiled. “Then you don’t spend your entire life running about the mountains kidnapping women?"
“Only when you call, wife.”
Her smile faded; she still was not pleased when he called her wife.
“So, the Heart of the Anwyn. What is that, exactly?”
“The Heart of the Anwyn is a precious stone the color of the eyes of the Queen. The magic of our people is protected by and energized by The Heart. When the new Queen comes, she will be crowned while the power of the stone surrounds her. When young Anwyn reach the proper age, they take a vow upon The Heart and embrace the animal within.”
“So, Anwyn children don’t change into little wolves?”
“No.”
“And if you wished, you could move away from The City and The Heart and become an ordinary man?”
Is that what she wanted of him? Now that she was plagued by sexual feelings she tried to dismiss, did she truly wish that he was an ordinary man?
“Yes,” he answered. He did not tell her that denying the wolf would be like cutting off his own arm. He did not tell her that he would rather die than be an ordinary man. “The further away from The Heart I travel, the weaker the power and pull of it becomes.”
“Pull. Does it draw you home?”
“Yes.”
Juliet struggled with the fact that she wanted him. That’s why she remained awake when she should be sleeping. She knew the dream would come to her, more real tonight than it had been last night. Tomorrow night it would be yet even more real, and it would come to her every night until they became man and wife in the most basic way. She knew that, but refused to accept it. She would accept, though. Soon. The scent of a woman calling for her man radiated from her so strongly he could almost touch and see it.
Ryn reached out his hand and touched her face. He had to know if what he’d felt this afternoon was real or imagination. Yes, her skin was warmer than it had been when he’d taken her. She did not draw away from the touch, as he’d thought she might, so he lifted his other hand to her heart. She did flinch a little, more in surprise than displeasure, but she didn’t back away. His thumb brushed against the softness of her breast as he pressed his palm to her. Again her heart was beating too fast. Anticipation and excitement caused her heart to race, but there was more. Much more.
Juliet licked her lips, and her eyes dropped to his throat. She was drawn to him, no matter how determined she might be to maintain her distance. He hadn’t told her that her battle was a hopeless one, that she would know no peace until she gave herself over to the need that had been sleeping within her for so long. She could not stop the flow of desire that surged between them, no matter how she tried.
After a few moments she stopped trying. He felt the release, in a torrent of heat and a wave of energy. The river of hunger between them was so strong the flame of their campfire grew higher and brighter. Juliet’s eyes remained fixed on his throat, and her lips parted and grew soft.
“You want to taste me,” he said.
She shook her head no, but answered in a whisper, “Yes. More than anything, I want that.”
Very slowly, he moved closer to her. She shifted her body toward his, and he leaned his head to one side so she could lay her mouth on his throat. She was hesitant at first, but Ryn did not weave his fingers into her tangled hair and pull her closer. He let her taste him in her own way, in her own time.
Soft lips danced upon his throat. Ryn closed his eyes. This real touching was much better than any dream. He felt the caress of those lips throughout his body, and his instinct was to pull Juliet’s body to his and make her give him more. But he didn’t. He remained very still, allowing her to take her own time. A hesitant brushing of her tongue against his throat made his mind spin and his body roar, and a moment later Juliet let loose a gentle moan as she fully pressed her mouth to the flesh he offered her. There was still a small fragment of doubt within her.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, his voice husky and near shaking as he rested his hand in her hair.
Once Juliet had sampled his flesh, she did not stop and gently pull away. She tasted him fully; she drew him into her mouth, breathed him in through her nose, tasted him with her tongue. One soft hand grabbed a tangle of hair and held on, as she moved her mouth to the other side of his neck. Her body trembled, but not with fear. Not this time.
He not only felt and saw her need for him, he smelled it growing stronger on her flesh. That need was everywhere. In her hair, on her face, in the mouth that tasted him, in the hands that held him.
“You taste good,” she whispered, barely taking her mouth from his neck. “So good. Oh, heavens, I could sit here all night and just...just...” She moved her entire body closer until she was sitting in his lap, her arms draped around him while she lost control at a fast rate.
Her skin was hot; her heart raced. And while she lavished her attentions on his neck, she pressed her body to his and held on as if for her very life. She moaned and laughed and sucked his flesh into her mouth.
“You were right,” she whispered, and then she touched the tip of her tongue to a sensitive place on his throat. “When I taste you, I know I am meant to be here. It’s familiar, as if I have always known the flavor of you.”
“You have,” Ryn rumbled. He was ready for her, had been ready for days. Weeks. Months. A shift of his clothing and hers, and he could be inside her. He was tempted, his body was tempted, but when they joined, it would be her first time. Hers and his, but he knew the pain would be hers.
It was getting harder and harder to think at all. Juliet’s mouth was relentlessly hungry, and she did not satisfy herself with a simple taste. Her soft lips moved from one side of his throat to the other. Her tongue flicked out and teased him. One hand fisted in his hair. Her body quivered. Her hands raked over his bare skin, as if she sought to learn the shape of him in all ways. Her fingers were bold and arousing.
And then she bit him.
Not hard. It was a little nip that barely drew blood. Yet another clue that he had not known all about his wife when he had captured her.
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He had to know if there was any truth to his suspicions. He carried a number of tanni leaves in the pouch at his waist, and that weapon—which he had used to disable the soldiers when he had taken Juliet—would tell him all he needed to know. But there were other ways to determine if he was right or not. Better ways.
Ryn wrapped his arms around Juliet, flipped her onto her back, and covered her body with his. She gasped and lost her breath for a moment, but almost without pause she wrapped her arms around him. He laid his mouth on her throat and suckled, and she threaded her fingers through his hair and held on tight. She did what he had not; she pulled him closer.
A trace of her fear remained, but it had been replaced by something stronger. Need. She was almost overcome with the need for him.
The flavor of her skin had changed a little, as he had detected this afternoon. If he had not tasted her on that first night he might not realize, but he remembered very well the sweet taste of her flesh. It was different now. No less sweet, but...different. She pressed her body to his and tilted her head back to offer him all of her throat. It was the ultimate offering, to lie beneath a man in this most vulnerable position, head back and thighs parted, throat and body unprotected.
He took full advantage of the offer, kissing Juliet from her chin to her shoulder, sucking against the skin beneath her ear while his hand delved beneath her skirt. The flesh of her thighs was soft and tender, warm and slightly trembling. While his hand caressed her there, he nipped lightly at the side of her neck, just barely drawing blood.
Juliet didn’t cry out or try to push him away. Instead she moaned and lifted one leg to drape it over his. He was so close to being inside her. So close. And it was what she wanted, as much as he did. When that was done, she would be his wife in every way that counted. There would be no more talk of escape, no more threats about going back down the mountain.
He licked away a drop of the blood he had drawn and let it lie on his tongue. One taste was all he needed to know the truth. Juliet truly was changing, as they traveled closer to The City and the sacred Heart. She felt the draw of the stone as he did, but did not yet realize that it called to her and that by returning to him she had taken a step not only toward him but also toward that stone and her destiny. The blood of Juliet’s father awakened within her, growing stronger with every step they took toward The City.
Ryn watched by the light of the fire as the small cut healed before his eyes until the flesh of her throat was perfect once more.
His woman, his mate, was Anwyn. She was the lost one, the girl child they had been waiting for.
When they reached The City, Juliet would be Queen.
Chapter Nine
Juliet threaded her fingers through Ryn’s hair, hanging on because she felt as if she’d fly out of her body if she didn’t hold on to something solid to keep her earth- bound. Days of dreams and isolation, of watching Ryn and taking his hand when it was offered, of sleeping beside him, it all caught up with her in a rush and she felt as if she were tumbling down the mountain. The rush wasn’t frightening, as it should’ve been. Instead she felt exhilarated and oddly free. Laying her mouth on his throat had started a reaction that she could not stop, that she did not want to stop. He was in her blood now, and she understood. She finally understood so many things.
Sophie had often encouraged her sister to take a lover, since Juliet had always declared marriage out of the question. In the past she’d been horrified by the suggestion, but now, with Ryn’s body over hers and the most wonderful sensations dancing through her body, a lover seemed like a very good idea. It wasn’t as if the curse would ruin what they’d discovered here. She didn’t love him; he didn’t love her. And so no curse would take Ryn’s life before his time.
Maybe she didn’t love Ryn, but she loved the way he tasted and she loved the feel of his skin against her mouth. As much, maybe more, she loved the way his mouth felt on her. Lightning coursed through her blood, and no matter how good it felt, no matter how good he felt, she wanted more.
There were no claws. This was not a dream, not a nightmare meant to frighten her away from something beautiful and natural.
Destiny had brought her here, to this place and this time. Everything about this moment felt true and good, and to fight what she wanted and needed would be wrong. Juliet felt as if she hadn’t come alive until she’d stepped foot on this mountain. She’d been sleeping until Ryn had found her, and when she’d tried to escape, she’d been running not from him, but from this part of herself. The animal. The beast. Every inch of her was alive, and for the first time in her life she wanted something for herself. She wanted what the pleasurable parts of the dream had only teased her with—Ryn’s body joined with hers.
It would be easy to be lost in physical sensation, but a nagging doubt in the back of her mind plagued her as Ryn lowered his head to kiss her throat again. She was undeniably connected to this man. When he was inside her, would she be overcome with his essence until she lost her own? And what of babies?
That thought made her flinch a little. How could she even consider lying with this man as a wife lies with her husband, when such an action might very well lead to a child? An Anwyn child, who would one day turn with the full moon if she didn’t take him far, far away from this mountain and his father. And if she could not take the child from his father? No matter how she tried, she couldn’t imagine living in an isolated, primitive city far from everything she had ever known, with a man who didn’t love her, a man she could never love.
A child would bind her to Ryn in a way one night of sex would not. If they created a family and stayed together, would she eventually love him? It would be easy, she suspected. Much too easy. And with love came disaster.
She fisted her hand in his hair. “Ryn...I can’t.”
He growled, deep in his throat “There will be no babies,” he whispered. “Not tonight.”
She didn’t even question how he knew what she’d been thinking. He was in her mind; she was in his. “You can’t be sure.”
“It isn’t time.”
Juliet relaxed a little. While Ryn had often infuriated her, he had not lied to her once. As far as she knew, the Anwyn were a completely different species and it was certainly possible that they were able to make babies only at a certain time of the year or of the cycle of the moon. And in truth, she doubted she would conceive easily, without Sophie’s help. Her cycle had never been regular. She usually bled for three days out of every four months or so, instead of the usual once a month like her sisters and most other women.
Between that and Ryn’s assurance that it wasn’t time, she allowed herself to relax, certain she didn’t have to worry about tonight leading to a child she was not yet ready to have.
There was still the psychic connection to deal with. Right now the sensations she drank in were pleasant and warm, but how much of Ryn would she take into herself while he was in her body? How deep would the connection become? It was her greatest fear, to know that it was even possible for another to be forever linked with her.
“You wish the physical joining without the joining of spirits.” He rose up slightly to look down at her. Firelight flickered over half his face, and it almost seemed that he was hurt, or disappointed.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Why?”
I’m afraid.
You have the power to keep me out. You know how.
“I don’t think I can,” she said. “Not like this. Can you?”
“If it is what you wish, wife.” Ryn laid his mouth on her throat again and she got wonderfully lost in that physical sensation. And that was all she felt: physical sensation.
It was hot so close to the fire. Almost too hot. The night’s chill didn’t cut through her clothes the way it had in her early days on the mountain. Maybe she had acclimated quickly. Then again, maybe it was Ryn and the way he touched her and the promise of what was to come that took the night’s chill away.
He unclasped her cloak and
let it fall, then began to unfasten the buttons of her dress. With his hand on her back, he lifted her into a sitting position, and there he worked the sleeves of her heavy green dress down and off. Juliet expected the cold to assault her bare skin, but it didn’t. Ryn’s closeness and her desire for him kept her warm.
She suffered a moment’s uncertainty—a virgin’s uncertainty. No man had ever seen her unclothed, and it was a daunting prospect to lay oneself beneath a man completely vulnerable and exposed. What if he didn’t find her desirable? She didn’t have Sophie’s curves or Isadora’s angles, but was ordinary. And when it came to matters of physical love, she had no training, no experience. Ryn might find her boring, or—heaven forbid—what if she did something wrong?
As Ryn undressed her, it was clear that he didn’t find her ordinary or boring. He raked the tips of trembling fingers against her skin, arousing and studying her. He looked at her with longing and anticipation, his golden eyes warm with passion. The last of Juliet’s uncertainty left her. She did not need their unearthly connection to know that he found her desirable.
Ryn lifted her onto his lap and worked the tattered dress down over her hips. When she was naked, he raked his large hand over her body, touching her throat and her breasts and her soft belly, and then delving gently between her legs in a way that made her arch and moan. Her wanting increased in a way she had not expected. It was fine, this wanting, this promise of more.
He caressed her as if she were the finest treasure, delicate and precious. She had never felt precious, not once in her twenty-six years.
“I’ve never done this before,” she whispered shakily.
“I know. Neither have I.”
She swallowed hard. “Never?” She would’ve expected a man who looked like this one, a man who was obviously virile, a man who knew how and where to touch her, to be experienced in the ways of love. She had heard from many of her female patients about husbands who were unfaithful, or who had availed themselves of every obtainable woman before marriage.
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