Once again he touched Randall’s hand, lifted a hand in salute to the pack leaders and turned on his heel to walk away from them. He didn’t belong with them anymore. Not until they figured it out and changed their policies. He was mixed blood—both Lycan and Carpathian and he would never turn rogue or vampire. They had seen Dimitri, Fen and him fight for them and still, not one of them had given their condolences on his grandfather, or made a comment on how appalling it was that Xaviero had used silver to torture a man for years. It hadn’t occurred to them that he was a man. Or a Lycan. Or a Carpathian. Or all three. Hemming was simply Sange rau to them and that was all they saw.
He wrapped his arm around Branislava, not missing a step as he continued away from the battlefield toward the forest where they could shift in privacy and join Gregori and Mikhail in the cave of warriors. Fen and Tatijana, Dimitri and Skyler as well as Razvan and Ivory were already waiting for them.
He had no doubt they would give his grandfather the honors due him before laying him to rest. These were the people he chose to be with. He was Lycan in his heart and he always would be, but he was also Hän ku pesäk kaikak—guardian of all. Right now, the only thing in his mind was paying proper tribute to Hemming in a private and loving way.
23
Zev woke to the moon directly above him, the beams shining like a spotlight over him. The sky was clear with thousands of brilliant stars glittering like diamonds. He turned his head and Branislava smiled at him. His heart did that slow, melting somersault it often did when she gave him that particular smile.
“You opened the earth.”
“I wanted you to wake to the night. It’s so beautiful, Zev.”
The heat of her body warmed him, her skin, hot silk, gliding against his, making him feel alive. Her head rested on his arm, and she lay snuggled tight against him, his body curved protectively around hers. He knew she was trying to ease not only the pain of losing his grandfather, but the bitter reality that the two men he’d considered close friends for more years than most could count had turned on him. Certainly not openly and maybe they didn’t even realize it yet, but in their hearts, they thought differently of him because he was mixed blood.
“Zev,” she said softly, reading his thoughts. “They will come around. Rolf was ashamed and guilty. Randall didn’t realize the man in chains was your grandfather. Mikhail spoke with both of them and they’re devastated that you resigned. They’ll be the ones to persuade the Lycans to accept mixed bloods.”
He sighed and nuzzled the top of her head. Her hair, usually more red gold, was very red and all over the place, just the way he liked it. “Maybe you’re right.” He wanted her to be. He couldn’t help the affection he had for the two men he’d protected for a good portion of his life. The fact that they didn’t reciprocate was difficult to accept.
She brushed a kiss along his bicep. “They reciprocate. They don’t know how to backtrack, but they will. Give them time, Zev.”
“You were right to insist we come to our little crater,” he murmured against her wild hair, willing to let her make him feel differently. He was happy with her. He would always be happy with her, no matter what else was going on in his life. “I should always listen to you.”
He felt her smile against his bicep. Her small teeth nipped, sending a thrill vibrating through his body. “Of course you should. When it comes to you, Wolfie, I’m the woman who plans to see to every detail of your happiness and health.”
He heard that little bite in her voice. “I’m sorry I was such a fool last night. I should have allowed you to heal my wounds before we laid my grandfather properly to rest. I know you weren’t the least bit happy with me.”
Her mouth curved against his arm. He felt the warmth of her breath and then the brush of her lips. “So coming up to our special mountain was a little compensation.”
Of course she’d known. He knew she wasn’t happy with waiting, so when she suggested going to the mountain where they’d spend the day nestled in the crater high up in the dome, beneath the rich soil, surrounded by cooling mist and snowcaps, he’d agreed just to appease her.
“I like taking care of you, Zev. It matters to me.”
He heard the honesty in her voice and winced. Not only did it matter, but as his lifemate she was driven to care for not only his happiness, but his health.
“I know, Branka,” he admitted, and nuzzled the top of her head with his chin again, enjoying the way her hair caught in the shadow on his jaw. Silken strands, weaving them together in intimacy. He liked the image although it was far too corny to ever admit to her.
“You insisted on healing me,” she pointed out.
His smile came instantly at that little sulky note in her voice. He felt joy sweeping through him. He had gone to ground with the weight of the world on his shoulders, still upset—and hurt—over Randall’s and Rolf’s reactions to the death of his grandfather. He had woken to Branislava and his shaken world had righted itself.
“I did, didn’t I?” He couldn’t help the lazy satisfaction creeping into his tone. He tracked a shooting star before he turned his head to brush kisses along her temple. “I’m sorry.”
She frowned. “For what?”
“I promised you I wouldn’t make arbitrary decisions that affected both of us, but without consulting you or even thinking about consulting you, I committed us to taking on those twelve very lost men—the mixed bloods. They’re traumatized and it won’t always be easy. I should have asked you what you wanted to do.”
Branislava rolled to her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look into his eyes. “Silly wolf. Of course you had to take those men into your pack. If you hadn’t, I would have been disappointed in you. That’s the man I love, the man I know and respect. Aside from that, your grandfather practically gave you an order. He wanted those men taken care of.” She leaned in, drawing his attention to her swaying breasts. “My mouth is talking and it’s just a little higher up than where you’re looking.”
“I know,” he murmured, “but you’re intentionally distracting me.”
He leaned over and helped himself, licking at her nipple and then tugging with his teeth until her breath came in ragged gasps. He drew her breast into the heat of his mouth, discovered she was even hotter, all that wonderful natural fire coming to the surface just for him.
Branislava ran trembling fingers through Zev’s hair in a long caress, enjoying the sensation of the soft strands against her skin while his mouth devoured her breast. “I love watching you,” she confided. “It’s a very erotic sight to see your hunger for my body.”
She could feel his hunger as well. His desire was always intense, almost tangible. The pull of his mouth was strong, the suction, the moist heat, his teeth scraping seductively and the small nips that sent electrical charges straight to her dampening center.
He lifted his head and his eyes stared straight into hers. Her breath caught in her throat at the absolute possession stamped in his face and the fierce desire in the depths of his eyes. In that moment, he was wolf all the way, a sexual creature of insatiable appetites. And he was hers.
She pushed herself up on her hands and knees, straddling his hips to trail kisses down his scarred chest. “I fed this morning. Enough for both of us,” she confided, her voice dropping to a low siren’s whisper.
His body tightened wickedly, every muscle contracting as she licked at his pulse, the stroke of her tongue creating an answering throb in his veins. The sensation was pure pleasure, moving through him, consuming him. There was no way to prepare for the erotic burst of pure decadence, of indulgence, as her teeth sank into him. The bite of pain simply added to the intensity of his desire. She was an addiction, his greatest asset, his greatest love. He fisted both hands tightly in her luxurious hair. The feel of all that fiery silk in his rough palms maddened him with need.
Still, there was a part of him that simply enjoyed that slow, leisurely awakening of desire in his mind, when his body was already hot and hard.
He could already taste her in his mouth, the wonderful combination of cinnamon spice and honey that was in her blood, in the hot liquid seeping from the very core of her body—for him. Only for him.
He was alpha enough, wolf enough, to enjoy the fact that he was the only man who would ever have her, ever know her passionate fire, her devotion to pleasing him, the minute details she employed to give him absolute pleasure. Branislava always focused so completely on him when they made love, never herself. She gave and gave to him. He was in her mind, in her heart, in her very soul. She wanted him to be sated, completely satisfied and utterly spent with each joining.
He didn’t want to tell her that would never happen. The more she gave, the more he craved his beautiful addiction, the more his love felt all encompassing, overwhelming even. She licked across the small pinpricks on his chest, closing them, adding one more shudder of pleasure before she moved up and over him.
His hand slid up her silken inner thigh and he felt her muscles tighten in anticipation. Her heat was growing, that wonderful secret haven he always lost himself in. He slipped a finger inside her and felt her gasp, felt hot liquid surround him and tight muscles clamp down like a vise. Very slowly he withdrew his finger and brought it to his mouth.
“Nothing tastes as good as you,” he whispered, meaning it. He could spend a lifetime indulging his cravings with her body.
Her tongue slid across the pinpricks on his chest, as her body heated more. She pushed back, coming over the top of him, her breasts sliding over the muscles of his body, causing them to react, drawing every bit of blood to his groin until he was bursting with urgent need. He caught her arms, providing a soft carpet of thick grass to surround her. He wanted the hard earth beneath it to hold her in place while he took her, but he didn’t want her uncomfortable.
In one smooth motion, he rolled her under him and bent his head to the swell of her breast where her pulse beat so strongly, beckoning him, calling to him with a frantic urgency. Her spicy fragrance rose, his mate making her own demands, there in the secret cradle of new life they’d discovered. He thought of that small crater inside the mountain as their own private paradise.
He teased her nipple into a tight peak with a flat, broad stroke of his tongue, enjoying the way her body flushed, all that hot passion rising like a tide, a volcano, so close to the surface, so close to a fiery explosion. He indulged himself, his mind needing the slow, leisurely enjoyment of her body while his body continued to demand a wild instantaneous satisfaction.
He kissed his way up the slope of her breast to that throbbing beat and without preamble sank his teeth deep. She arched into him, her soft cry music to his ears. He loved every sound she made, every whimper, every plea, the way she chanted his name. His rough hands moved over her soft body, a claiming, an exploration. Every part of her was his. This amazing, beautiful woman gave herself to him, gave her body to him to play and worship there.
Her blood grew hotter and her skin flushed a beautiful rose as she writhed under him. He lifted his head and watched the two small trickles of ruby-red blood make their way down her breast. With a smile he chased them, lapping at them before closing the two small holes he’d made. At once he closed his mouth again over her left breast, the fingers of his hand tugging and rolling at her other nipple. She cried out, this time a little louder, pushing her breast into the heat of his mouth while he bit down softly.
He lifted his head to look down at her with satisfaction. Her breasts were covered with small strawberries, marks of his possession, tiny little nips, and most of all her nipples were hard peaks. “I saw a woman once wearing only a small fancy, decorative golden chain connecting one breast to the other, from nipple to nipple, and I couldn’t understand why until this moment. You have the most beautiful breasts, Branka, so beautiful. I could see you wearing little but a decorative chain. She had one that was five strands wrapped around her hips and nothing more.”
“Where in the world did you see such a sight?”
His hand stroked between her legs and he felt the flood of liquid at the idea. “I chased a Lycan who had murdered his neighbor into a club where there was dancing.”
She laughed softly. “There was obviously a lot more going on than dancing.”
“Probably, but I didn’t have the time to stay and watch. Although, if you want to dance for me, I would be more than willing to sit back and enjoy the show.”
“You think I wouldn’t?” She caught his head in her hands, framing his face. “I would do anything for you. Anything you asked or wished of me.”
“Then dance for me, mon chaton féroce. I would love to sit here and watch you dance.”
He rolled off of her, reclined back on their thick mat of grass and watched as she gracefully got to her feet. She turned her back to him and the sound of music began to drift into the cradle, through the leaves of the few trees, an exotic, sexy sound that matched the beat of his heart.
She swept her hair up in an intricate do, long tendrils looking as though they’d escaped to drift down her back to her bottom. When she turned, his heart skipped a beat and then began pounding. She wore a decorative chain, several strands of finest gold woven in an intricate pattern strung from one breast to the other. The clamps on her nipples were jeweled and tiny bells hung from the loops of the chains.
His cock, already full, nearly burst. His hand moved down to casually circle his burgeoning erection while he inspected the series of chains wrapped around her hips. Little strands of bells hung like fringe, dipping low, nearly covering her fiery mound and the damp heat between her legs, but each movement gave him teasing, enticing glimpses.
She swayed, a sultry movement, undulating her body, a ripple of pure sexual intent. She kept her eyes on his, moving around him, her small bare feet making no sound in the grass so that she appeared to be dancing almost in the air.
The small bells tinkled and added their notes to the music. He realized that each bell sent a small vibration through his cock. His fist tightened, slowly sliding in time with that beat up and down his shaft. He had never seen anything more sensual in his life. She danced gracefully, but every movement was about sex, was an invitation to claim her body—was a claiming of his body.
The wind drifted through the small crater and caught at her hair, tugged at the bells and brought him her enticing fragrance. He crooked his finger at her and she swayed closer. He reached up and caught the chain, tugging gently. She gasped and came down to her knees, her breath hissing out of her, her green eyes going wide as fire raced from her nipples to her groin. He kept tugging, bringing her lower until her mouth was over his cock.
She laughed softly, a sound of pure joy, the warmth of her breath teasing the broad head, and then he inhaled sharply as her tongue lapped at the small pearls waiting for her. She enveloped him, her mouth gloriously hot, eager to taste him, to please him, happy that her dance had given him such happiness. He caught her hair in one hand and played with the chain with the other as she suckled him, her mouth tight, her tongue dancing. He let his head fall back and he watched the stars above him. “No other man could ever be this happy, Branka,” he whispered.
Her fingers danced over his tight sac, her mouth perfection; at times she took him so deep the constriction shocked him while the sensation bordered on ecstasy. When he knew she was going to drain him, he tugged the chain again, forcing her forward, forcing her to lift her head.
Her jeweled gaze met his. She pouted at him. “I was hungry.”
“So am I,” he said, his voice close to a growl. He pushed her gently to the ground. “Very hungry. A wolf’s hunger.”
She shivered, and made a move as if she might remove the chains. He shook his head. “Leave them. I’ll remove them later. I like the bells and the way they look on you.” He tugged again at the chain between her breasts, lifting the two soft mounds slightly. “I never thought an adornment would look so beautiful against your skin. Your skin is flawless, amazing, and such a perfect color.” Her skin felt—and
looked—like soft rose petals flushed with heat.
“I have scars,” she said softly and went to touch the raised ridge between her breasts.
He caught her hand and pushed it back to the ground. “This body belongs to me,” he snapped, and leaned down as he pulled up on the chain, lifting her breasts so that he could nip at the underside of her left breast. “Mine. And it’s perfection. You don’t get to ever say anything disparaging about this body.” He ran his tongue along the ridged scar from one breast to the other, teasing and tugging at the chain.
He’d made the declaration half in humor and half serious. He loved her body and he never wanted her to feel less than beautiful. He kissed his way down from the jeweled tips of her breasts to her intriguing belly button. He spent some time there, teasing and nipping before moving lower to inspect those mysterious little bells. If she moved, bucked her hips, would that same vibration run through his cock? A small experiment was in order. The music continued to play, drifting on the wind, the branches of the trees swaying gently, as if keeping time. He lifted her hips, wedging his shoulders between her thighs to hold her open to him. She was a beautiful flower full of nectar, and he wanted it all.
He bent his head and lapped at the honey spilling from her. She bucked hard. The tiny bells jingled along the chain running from one nipple to the other as her breasts swayed. The bells around her hips chimed, soft little musical notes that vibrated through his cock, sending electrical shocks singing through his entire body.
He held her firmly, a hungry wolf, doing what he did best—devouring her. He used his tongue to draw out the nectar he craved. He used the edge of his teeth to tug on her sensitive bud to keep the bells playing. He suckled strongly, listening to the beauty of her voice crying out as he drove her up fast and hard, over and over, sending her body into a series of wild orgasms that rocked her.
Dark Blood (Dark Series Book 26) Page 43