Straightening to his full height, Izak nodded his succinct agreement. “No contest there. Except, he made it sound like he’s not alone.”
Something to ponder after he found Nadia and smoothed things out. He hoped the smoothing out took a long time, preferably alone and with a whole lot of kissing, but he wasn’t going to bet the house on that fanciful notion. Since Izak had the most contact with the cretin, at least they could keep their noses to the ground in case a revolt brewed within the lower classes. “Nadia shouldn’t be around that shithead.”
Izak let out a short laugh and narrowed his eyes. “Agreed. Guess it’s a benefit I’m around.” He paused and licked his lips dramatically. “For many hours of the night.”
Gunnar recognized the taunt and forced himself not to react. “Good thing your blood-oath to the Council means you won’t do dick without permission.”
“If that brings you comfort, by all means keep thinking it.” He turned on the ball of his foot and marched away with supernatural speed. At the bend of the corridor, he paused and peered over his shoulder. “When it comes to her Goblet Ceremony, the odds are only with one of us.” He cleared his throat theatrically like he was about to officiate a formal pronouncement. “And, that’d be me.”
Fury surged in Gunnar’s veins and a cool burst of panic churned in his gut. Izak spoke the cold hard truth. And, it fucking sucked. He closed his eyes and fought the inborn nature of his genetics. For the first time in his life, the urge to unleash his father’s side warred with his integrity. The barbarian within his psyche screamed to simply take his female without preamble, ritual or authorization.
Keep it together, moron, Gunnar gritted his jaw and focused on the metal secured to his arm. He was weak, in no shape to fight. Anyway, he could do nothing to change the situation. Kan Asma laws had existed for centuries. It wasn’t like they’d suddenly authorize a mating outside the bonds of their most sacred rituals. Though he worked for the Komars and considered Traian and Bethany his only family, a wicked compulsion to shuck the conventions and fucked-up rules brought on treasonous thoughts.
It’d be best for them both if he simply let go.
Like hell.
Inhaling, he sorted through the various scents permeating the hallway. Antiseptic, illness, and other various chemicals clouded the molecules in the air. Finding the hint of Nadia, the sweetest perfume of springtime blossoms, proved seriously difficult. He walked down the hallway and back to the other side, sifting each particle wafting around him. Like a magnet, he was drawn to the stairwell. With a tentative shove, he pushed the door open and stepped onto the metal landing. Nadia had stood there. He smelled her, now. Powerful and drugging, the fragrance lured him, wrapping around his head and badgering him with a growing need he couldn’t ignore.
Nor, did he want to.
Rushing down the stairs, he vaulted to the lower level, following the traces of her as it led him through another door and into a foreign area of the medical center. Dim lights and barren walls gave an eerie ambience. The linoleum squished under his heavy steps. He took in another breath and continued onward as his paces grew to long reverberating strides. Finally, he came to a full stop in front of a door labeled Staff Lounge. He tried the handle. Locked, damn it. Frustrated, he debated for all of one second before employing his mental skills and prying open the lock with his mind.
The door swung open, and he stood in the threshold. Strong and intense, her essence called to him on an elemental level. “Nadia,” with voice gruff, he said her name on a mere growl around long fangs that pricked his lower lip.
Surprise lined her forehead, her eyes narrowed and breaths wrenched from her chest. She stood from her chair and swiped the back of her hand across her cheek. Red tinged her eyes. Moisture tracked from the corners and spilled down her cheeks. Misery hit him square in the chest like a dull, rusty blade. Needing privacy, he shut the door and locked the deadbolt. “Why are you crying?”
She shook her head. The long length of her ponytail fell over her shoulder as she glanced away from him. Her eyes lost focus, and she stared at the dingy wooden cabinets hanging from the far wall.
“Tell me, kjaere,” Gunnar pressed his lips together. Great, now he was using terms of endearment in his mother’s native tongue. He really had lost his fricken mind.
Crossing her arms about her, she shivered as if cold, but the temperature in the room was tepid and controlled. “Nadia, let me help.”
With a loud exhalation, she threw her arms up in apparent frustration. Then, she propped her hands on her hips and paced the short length of the room. “You can’t.” She swiped away another tear. “No one can.”
“Did Izak do this?” he spat, needing to understand. God please don’t let it be about that sentinel playboy. “Or Andros?” Either way he had to be prepared for her reply.
“He told me I could have something impossible. Something I want so much.”
Gunnar steeled his composure, flexing his muscles and gritting his jaw. “Who?” he prompted. Inside he quaked with possessiveness and aggression. Get a grip on yourself, idiot.
A short nervous exhalation followed as she turned and faced him. “Andros.”
One step brought him closer just to the edge of the oblong table sitting in the middle of the room. He leaned into his palm; the cool wood of the table helped to keep him from losing his temper right there. “What did he say, Nadia? Tell me. Maybe I can make it happen.”
She shook her head again, and the tip of her tongue slid out, moistening her lips in a long sweep. The tips of her blunt, white teeth chewed on the corner of her mouth. She turned those soulful eyes on him. “I want—” her breath faltered and her chest rose with a tense inhalation. Twisting the hem of her shirt in her fingers, she focused on the wall behind him, breaking off their connection.
Time stilled as her lips parted and closed again. She sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth. “You,” she pushed into his mind, and he could feel her apprehension, fear, and overwhelming need.
He closed the distance between them, grabbed her face with both his hands, ignoring the metal on his arm. Sliding his fingers along her jaw, he cupped the nape of her neck and pulled her forward. He bent his head, stopped fighting against everything he knew he wasn’t supposed to do, and gave into everything he wanted.
She gasped and he covered her mouth with his, hard and seeking, deep and urgent. And, she tasted like a sweet wine.
Her arms laced around his shoulders, pulling him into her with a desperation he recognized. The rounded curves of her breasts crushed into his chest. He was lost. He propelled them backward, needing to feel her fully against him, desire crashing into him with every passing second. Fisting her hair, he yanked her head back, trailing kisses along her throat to her jaw and back to the hollow below her ear. She squirmed and rubbed against him. Warm heat and silken skin, utter desire prodded him to capture her thigh, drag it up to his hip and notch the apex of her body to his hard, throbbing length. The bite of her nails pricked the skin of his upper arm. That sweet pain only spurred him on.
“More, Gunnar. Give me more.” Her raw demand prodded him to let loose the caged beast roaring for freedom.
“I’ll give you what I can,” he promised.
And he meant it. That didn’t mean he’d take anything for himself. He couldn’t compromise her in any way. Even in his delirium, he had the honor not to do anything that would end with consequences.
He slid his hand under her top and shaped along her ribs, to the unyielding material of her bra. “Now, kjaere, let me feel you.”
Her eyelids fluttered and drooped. She leaned her head back to the wall exposing the elegant column of her throat. Cheeks flushed and whimpering with desire, she swallowed hard and implored, “Please, Gunnar. Don’t stop.”
A deep yearning crashed into him and Gunnar didn’t want to stop. “I won’t,” he reassured, the promise in his tone something he could do nothing to conceal.
∙•∙
Her
first kiss. And, it was Gunnar.
Just like she’d dreamed and fantasized about for the last few days.
Hot, passionate and stirring, low in her belly, his kisses woke the female within her. It was wanton, needy, and clawed for more. The tip of his tongue brushed her teeth, the sensitive flesh along her lips and teased the space between. He explored and she met him there, eager to feel the warmth of his kiss deepen as their tongues dueled, lips pressed, bodies aligned together. It was too much.
It was perfect.
Rough fingers brushed her sides, along her ribs and it didn’t tickle or scratch her skin. The touch provoked her, coaxing her need with gentle caresses. A moan tangled in her throat and he captured it in his kiss, swallowed it back and an echo of his desire rumbled in his chest.
“Nadia,” he whispered against her mouth. “So sweet and hot.” His strong fingers pressed into the small of her back and held her firmly in place. He rocked up on his toes and brushed the solid length of his body flush to hers.
“Why can’t you be mine?”
She heard his anguish, the same pain in his voice reverberated inside her heart. It’d only been a few days since they’d met but something inside her knew Gunnar was hers. Maybe biology? Or emotions. Either way, she hated not being allowed to follow her heart.
She covered his mouth with her fingers. “Don’t, please. Just pretend, for now.”
He nodded, but fire sparked in his eyes. It was alive, elemental, and the torment of their situation pierced her straight to her soul. She grabbed his shirt, fisted the material like it was her lifeline, her connection to him.
The heavy metal of his fixator came into view as he trailed a finger down the side of her face to her chin. Pressure directed her head back and exposed her throat further. Warm breath feathered across her pulse points, and little kisses followed. Her grip on his shirt tightened. Against her ribs, her heart beat hard and fast. Intense. Yes, take from me, she commanded in her thoughts, but didn’t allow him to share that desperate plea.
“I want to taste you, kjaere. Just a sip.” His growled whisper overset her and she pushed up on her toes in an unspoken acquiescence.
His cheek brushed across her collarbone and the weight of his head settled on her shoulder. Ragged breaths wrenched from his chest. “I can’t. I won’t be able to stop.”
“Gunnar,” she muttered his name and licked her suddenly dry lips. “Only a little. Please. I want to feel your fangs on my skin. I want the bite. Yours.”
“I’m losing control.” He trembled, the muscles in his back tense as steel. She pressed him closer, a silent nudge. The tip of one sharp canine scraped fleetingly in a crude arc. The sting lasted only a second before his hot mouth covered the tiny wound and sucked. A moan shuddered inside her.
Gunnar shifted and pushed harder against her, pinning her to the cabinet and holding her still. “Ah, Nadia. You’re like nothing I’ve ever tasted. It’s paradise. You’re my paradise.”
Desperate for every possible sip, he sucked at her skin, rasping with his tongue. The miniscule amount he’d taken would hardly bond them but the intimacy was there anyway.
“God, I want you at my throat, taking from my vein,” he muttered, and his breath feathered along her pulse points. An elicit image popped into her mind so dark and erotic. She imagined tasting him, drawing his essence into her mouth and inundating herself with him.
Strong yet restless fingers tripped down her arm to her hip. His thumb trailed the edge of her waistband, stroking and raising her need with each teasing swipe.
“Let me touch you, Nadia.”
Acting on impulse, she covered his hand with hers, sliding her fingers between his. She brought their conjoined hands low, slipping under the hem of her scrub top. Her breath hitched as his fingertips tracked across the top of her waistband. She guided him upward, oh so slowly. Each new sensation merged with the last as she waited to feel even more of his touch.
He curled his fingers, dragging his nails in a curve and the light scratch pricked her skin, tightened her nipples against the stiff Lycra of her bra. Heat bloomed on her cheeks as she remembered she wore her nursing clothes and that totally unsexy eighteen-hour support bra with the big thick straps. Her fingers fought the direction of his strokes, drawing him back toward her midline and near her ribs.
“Sorry, I’m going too fast for you. I keep forgetting this isn’t a fantasy.” The rasp of his voice attempted to conceal the depth of his arousal but she’d heard it anyway.
She shook her head and pressed her lips together before blurting, “I’m just not wearing anything very sexy right now.”
His hand left her belly and cupped her jaw, the calloused pad of his thumb pressing her to look fully at him. One glimpse of the heat in his eyes had chills marching along her arms. His nostrils flared and his fangs elongated a sliver of an inch showing the deadly points. “Clothes aren’t what make you sexy.”
Right, sure, tell that to Victoria Secret. “All I know is I want you to touch me there. I don’t know how and what or any—”
And his hand closed around the curve of her breast, gentle sweeps of his thumb worked across the furled nipple. He plucked, played, and dragged that nail across the distended flesh. Her breath whooshed from her lungs, followed by a low whimper as he pressed his palm down and rubbed a tight circle. She tried to follow the direction of his strokes, to determine how his touch enticed her so. He swirled his finger, catching the tight bud between thumb and finger, and pinched lightly. A warm current danced from the tip through her breast and it grew heavy in response. “How…”
He used more force this time, holding tighter and pulling. “Stop thinking, Nadia. Start feeling.” With his palm, he cupped the swollen curve, kneaded the underside until the flesh tingled and heat bloomed across her chest. His hand dragged to the other side, nails pricking a fiery trail before he took her other breast in his hand and captured the throbbing peak between incessant fingers.
And, she felt. She felt the tension rising there with each passing glance of his fingertip. She felt the tingles zinging from the hardened point and merging into her veins detonating low in her core. She felt hot. Cold.
She felt need.
“That’s right. Feel how your body readies for me. How it becomes hypersensitive, wanting more of my touch.” His hand slipped from her chest and fingers alighted on her upper arm. He skated his fingertips down to her elbow and lower still to her wrist where he drew little figure eights at the tender juncture of her thumb. With a firm grip, he brought her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles, and let his breath tease the skin there.
A sigh escaped from between her parted lips. Her eyelids drooped.
“Say you want to feel more.” He nibbled across each knuckle, his teeth nipped and his tongue soothed. The conflicting touches roused excitement within her. She thought of those teeth raking her pulse points, biting harder, latching on and taking from her vein. He turned her hand, scraped his fangs across the tender expanse and a shudder overset her. “Say it!”
“I want more.” God, she’d moaned that answer. Because, she didn’t think she could handle any more of this seduction. But she wanted it. She couldn’t lose the one chance she had to feel Gunnar’s hands on her. To indulge in the demanding hunger that he incited within her.
“That’s perfect. That’s just what I want, too. More of you. I want my tongue on you, tasting all this pretty skin. Tasting the honey of your desire. I want more of those sexy moans. I want you to moan my name as your nails prick into my skin. You know what else I want, kjaere?”
She touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip. Her cheeks burned with a hot flush. One look at the way his face transformed with desire made her shiver with yearning. His eyes burned. That stormy blue gaze stared at her with unbridled desire. The dusky flesh of his upper lip pulled taut as his fangs lowered even further. Rough fingers laced around her wrist and tugged until her arm settled at the base of her spine and he pressed forward. Her back arched, he
ad falling against her shoulders. He stepped closer, one booted foot slid between hers, pushing them wide.
With a growl, he closed the space and her swollen breasts slammed against his unyielding chest. “I want to feel all of you,” he whispered against her ear and released his grasp on her arm before insistent fingers arched across her butt and hauled her upward fully against him.
“Gunnar!” Her breath sputtered out. Chills razed down her spine and the ache low between her thighs amplified as he notched them together at the most intimate juncture.
Then, he rocked. Caged behind his pants, the thick wedge of his erection throbbed. He thrust and retreated and each sweep of the iron hard length caressed the bundle of nerves between her thighs. Tension grew, winding tighter and tighter. Her pulse thudded and an echo there in the secret depths spasmed anew. It was so hot. So needy.
Her fingers clawed at his sides as she tried to hold him close, to hold him at the very heart of her body. The slide of his fingers underneath her waistband had her eyelids closing, as she simply focused on the way his hand caressed along the curve of her bottom and swept outward until his arm supported her lower back. A twinge followed as he latched on with strong fingers, curling them around her hip.
“I can imagine us naked, entwined like this. Being inside you. Your heat holding me in so deep.” He dragged her down his length while he jerked in the opposing angle, their bodies creating a powerful friction with each jolt. He held her down, guiding her, showing her what it would be like to engage in the forbidden. Nadia wanted the reality more than anything she could ever want.
“Are you getting wet for me?” He purred against the shell of her ear before latching on with his lips and sucking.
In the depths at the core of her, a storm brewed, the inner muscles quivering and the nerves firing off in rapid succession. It was too much. It wasn’t enough.
“Maybe.” She bit into the corner of her mouth nervous and shy.
“Ah, Nadia, you’re killing me. I need to know. Hell, I can smell your arousal. I know you’re on edge, but I have to hear you say it.” He pressed his palm to her belly, tugged at the drawstring but didn’t untie it.
Mated in Treason Page 9