Touch me, she whispered into his mind, moving eagerly with him as he thrust forward.
His hands went to her breasts, squeezing before tweaking the sensitive nipples.
I’m so hot, Conall—please…harder.
His hands tightened against her, and he groaned. She pushed against him, feeling something larger nudge her entrance. Her eyes widened. What was that?
“Vivienne…,” his voice was gravelly, and he sounded like he was giving her a warning.
“Pin me,” she murmured in response, unsure of what that meant but certain that whatever it was, she’d enjoy it if he was her partner.
He halted, still rigid in her body. “What—what did you say?”
Shifting slightly to look over her shoulder at him, Vivienne wiggled her bottom, sighing at the delicious feeling with him still buried inside her, and repeated her request. “Pin me, Conall.”
A nanosecond later, he’d pulled out, and she was being half-carried, half-dragged somewhere. The living room. The lights were off, and she didn’t feel self-conscious when he lowered her to the plush carpet, pulling her up so she was on all fours before him.
His finger slipped into her so suddenly, she gasped. Before she could savor the feeling, he removed it, and thrust into her.
She screamed.
Conall stilled, his fingers loosening their hold on her hips. Did I hurt you?
She shook her head, unable to form a coherent thought besides, More.
He reared back, and the following thrusts were even more powerful than the first. Her body jolted forward as he came up against her thighs, and she dug her fingers into the carpet, loving the wildness of this joining. Her muscles clamped up and she felt her orgasm take her. Her body lurched forward and down, but Conall’s hand held her secured. His chest came down against her, and she felt his breath against his shoulder. Instinctively, she knew what he wanted to do.
Please, I want…everything.
His tongue traced her shoulder, and he managed to plant a gentle kiss before he bit down. Vivienne cried out, pain mingling with pleasure as his hard thrusts continued. She tried to shift her body slightly, but a warning growl erupted from him. Shifting her head, she stared into his yellow eyes.
She gasped as the swollen base of his cock demanded entry. Reaching between her legs, his fingers circled her bud even as he rammed forward. She squirmed, and he growled again. Conall thrust forward once more, stretching her body to take more of him. One part of her was terrified, fearing he was too large, that she wouldn’t be able to take him, but the other part wanted it, demanded more. It was that part that took control. She pushed back eagerly, feeling the wet slide as he came into her. He pulled out and thrust to the hilt once, twice before she felt the warm spurts of his seed as he released.
Exhausted, her knees gave out, and she felt his weight come down on her.
When her breath evened, she quipped, “So that’s what it feels like to be pinned.”
A hand went to her belly, and Conall rolled to his side, keeping himself within her. “Yes.”
His response wasn’t the one she wanted, and Vivienne tried to pull away to face him. She cried out as a slight pinch rushed through her center, and Conall’s hands secured her waist, holding her steady.
“What?” she asked breathlessly, moving her hand down to where they were still joined. She moved her hips gingerly, feeling the fullness still within her.
He nuzzled her neck, kissing her shoulder as his fingers moved down to pet her intimately. “I won’t be able to leave you for a few more minutes. It happens whenever males of our species pin females.”
How? She didn’t ask but her brain was swirling with possibilities.
“Although we look human, we are different,” he spoke softly. “When we near our release, the base of our…anatomy…swells, which allows us to pin our females.”
Her body heated at Conall’s explanation, but she felt a surge of anger at the thought that he could have done something so intimate with someone else. Not just anyone else: Samia.
“How many women have you pinned?” As soon as the question left her mouth, she wanted to take it back. It shouldn’t matter, he was hers now, but Samia’s taunts were sending her into a jealous frenzy she didn’t quite like.
“One.” The answer was immediate.
“You don’t have to lie to me. It doesn’t really matter—”
His hands tightened around her waist. “I’ve only pinned one person, Vivienne, and that’s you. I shouldn’t have done it that first time, but I couldn’t control myself.”
Her brows lifted. What was he talking about?
“You didn’t forget, did you?” he murmured, and a vivid image of them came into her mind.
They were in the hotel. She was on her hands and knees, and he was behind her. She was pleading, saying she couldn’t, that it was too much, but he was persistent, arousing her to a state of frenzy, and then he’d…pinned her. She remembered. How could she have forgotten?
“Why do you ask?”
“Nothing. I was curious.”
He moved, pulling his hips away from hers slowly. He slid out with a wet plop, leaving Vivienne with a feeling of emptiness. She had little time to ponder that for he pushed her onto her back and came over her.
“You were jealous.”
He kissed her, dipping his tongue into her mouth as his hand slipped between her thighs. The man was insatiable. As she parted her thighs, she knew that when it came to him, she was probably more so. He drew his fingers over her sensitive sex and she shivered, trying to remember the last thing he’d said.
“I was not—”
“You have nothing to be jealous of, alainn.”
A long finger invaded her body and she moaned, lifting her hips and clutching at the digit. Okay, she was jealous. She was extremely, extremely—God that felt good—jealous.
His lips traced hers. “Nothing at all.” With that, he pushed forward, beginning another journey that would lead them both to ecstasy.
***
Cassandre shook her head again, trying in vain to concentrate on the words in front of her. Her parents were arguing…again.
Her father had arrived early in the morning, and from that time, he and Evelyn had started their screaming fest. She guessed her mother had broken the news to him about him being the only human in a family of witches and druids, and he was not taking it well. Who could blame him? Everything went silent. Picking up Alexander’s book, which she’d decided was a spell book and therefore her dream guy was some sort of witch, she made her way over to her locked door. Pressing her ear against it, she listened. Silence—true silence.
She whispered the words that would hide the book, and made her way downstairs. Her mother sat in the living room on one of the couches, a hand thrown over her face, while her father stared blankly ahead.
“Dad?” Cassie whispered, thinking he was oddly fixated on the empty wall.
Evelyn jumped, clutching a hand to her chest and offering Cassie a weak smile.
“Is something wrong, ma chère?” Evelyn sounded tired, and she looked no better. Her usually put-together-mother look was sweaty, and red-eyed.
Cassie shook her head. “Just grabbing something from the kitchen.” It was a lie but she couldn’t very well tell her mother she was spying on the two of them. “Dad, are you okay?”
He didn’t answer. His expression never altered. Evelyn sighed and seemed to shrink right before her daughter’s eyes.
“He’s resting.” She sounded bitter. A forced smile touched her lips. “I’m sure you heard us arguing, but everything will be fine.”
Cassie cast a doubtful look at her catatonic father. “Can he hear me?”
Evelyn sighed. “Not at the moment. If he continues like this, he’ll either have a heart attack or an aneurism, and then where will we all be?” She glared at Charles, before sighing once more. “Oh, Charles.”
Taking that as her cue to leave, Cassie turned and headed for the kitchen.
Since she was downstairs anyway, she might as well grab some organic peanut butter, and a few saltines.
Back in her room, she placed the tray with her snack onto the bed and recalled the spell book. She was nibbling on her biscuits when the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees, and she felt a presence behind her.
Turning quickly, she watched in mounting horror as an apparition, a woman with long black hair and startling green eyes, reached a hand to her. Except for the ancient aura surrounding her, the woman looked to be in her early twenties. A wind Cassie couldn’t feel blew about the woman, sending her pale blue gown swaying as her hair lifted off of her shoulders and flew behind her.
Cassie grabbed the book and prepared to flash herself into the living room where her far more powerful mother was. As she closed her eyes, the woman began to speak. The language was old as time itself, but for some reason, Cassie understood.
“Cassandre of the House of Selene,” she spoke slowly, her voice haunting and rich. “Help us. Resurrect us and we will ensure there is peace and harmony among the immortals.”
“Who are you?” Cassie almost kicked herself. She was talking to a ghost! Here she was talking to some creature who’d appeared out of thin air, as if she didn’t know the dangers in doing so. What she should be doing was flashing herself to the living room, or screaming for her mother.
“You are one of us, Cassandre, and we embrace you,” the woman said in that eerie but gentle voice. “Release us from captivity. Free us, Cassandre.”
She blinked and shook her head, edging off the bed. The woman moved slowly, watching her.
“You’re a druid?” she asked, waiting for the nod before she continued. “How are you here?” If she remembered correctly, they’d been locked away in a place that was neither accessible nor breachable.
“My time is short.” She moved closer and Cassie shivered when her icy cold hand brushed her cheek. “We are not the savages we are made out to be. Release us, Cassandre.”
Her image began to fade and Cassie took a step back. “Will you seek retribution on the witches?”
She shook her head slowly. “No retribution will be sought. My people have been punished thrice over for the crimes of few. Release us.” She faded until her presence was but a dim light. “Free us, Cassandre. Only you can free us….”
Her voice lingered even as she disappeared. Cassie erupted into movement, flashing herself into the living room. Evelyn jumped up immediately, scanning the area even as her powers leapt within her.
“I think I just saw a druid,” Cassie told her. Evelyn’s eyes turned as wide as her own before she urged her daughter to sit.
She fell to the couch. Cassandre started at the beginning, telling her mother about Alexander Petraeus, the book, and finally, the druid.
When she was finished, Evelyn nodded and asked one question. “He said that his name was Alexander Petraeus?”
Although she found it strange that through everything she’d told her mother, that one name had stuck with her, Cassandre nodded.
“Petraeus,” Evelyn said once more, as if testing the word on her tongue. Almost as an afterthought, she said, “Alexander.”
She waved a hand, and her very own spell book appeared. “Did I tell you my grandmother created this spell book for my mother? That my mother added her own spells and later passed it on to me?”
Cassie blinked. She’d just been visited by a druid and her mother was talking about their family history! Straightjackets, the lot of them.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Cassie asked, ignoring the fact that her question was a touch rude, given she was speaking to the woman who’d birthed her.
“My grandmother was a druid. This is a druid spell book.”
Nodding, Cassie continued to stare at her mother. Evelyn flipped it open to the first few pages, using her finger to navigate the list of names. Cassie leaned over and peered at some of the writing. Under the headline “House of Ares” were several names. Another headline followed, followed by another, and another. All were the names of Gods.
Her mother flipped the pages a few times, and Cassie anxiously waited. This had something to do with Alexander, the man from her dreams, and she wasn’t sure she was going to like it. Finally, her mother tapped a page, and looked up at her.
Cassie’s brows lifted. “What is it?”
“Alexander Petraeus, House of Poseidon, known as Earthshaker, Petraeus, Neptune….”
“Uh—huh?” Cassie was never really at a loss for words but what on earth did her mother mean?
Evelyn snapped the book shut, and almost immediately it vanished. She looked her daughter directly in the eye.
“Alexander Petraeus is the son of Poseidon, the God of the Sea. It is said that Poseidon only sired only one son, and gave him power over every element under his control. Most druids have one, sometimes two elements at their disposal; Alexander has many.”
So Alexander was a druid, like her. Although the thought made her slightly uneasy, it didn’t frighten her. He’d never tried to harm her, and he’d been the first to explain the druids to her.
“When the druids roamed the Earth, Alexander was known as “The Avenger.”
That didn’t sound good. Nope, didn’t sound good at all. Cassie felt a distinct chill go through her body. The soft hairs on her arm stood. “Why?”
“Because he is responsible for most of the havoc wrecked by the druids. Hundreds of witches were killed at his command.” She shuddered, as if shrugging off a memory. “It was Alexander Petraeus who cursed the witches to mortal lives as the druids were being banished. He was the only one powerful enough to do it.”
It was Cassie’s turn to shudder. Alexander had been responsible for the massacre of hundreds of witches? Her dream guy? He didn’t seem capable of doing anything so terrible.
“Maybe there are two—”
Evelyn shook her head briskly. “There is only one Alexander Petraeus, Cassandre.”
A chill went down her spine as her mother quoted Alexander’s exact words. She’d thought him vain at the time. He’d been telling the truth.
“You will tell me everything. When did he first appear to you? How frequently? Everything, Cassandre. Be quick and leave nothing out.”
Chapter Thirteen
Vivienne crawled out of bed slightly after ten in the morning. She was naked, a delicious tingling at her core. After taking a quick shower, she ran down the winding staircase and headed for the kitchen. She was hungry again, but that was no doubt because after their two-hour session in the living room, Conall had awoken her at five for a good morning that still made her blush to the roots of her hair. She’d come to realize, as the days passed, that he was an early riser. It didn’t matter what time he went to bed, he was up with the dawn, or near it.
A large grin dominated her face as she walked into the kitchen, but upon seeing who was there, the grin faded. Sloan. Everything came back swiftly. Her exchange with Samia, Sloan grabbing her, the darkness….
Sloan’s eyes lifted from the newspaper before him and he placed his mug of coffee back onto the table.
Vivienne nodded once in his direction and moved to the bread basket. She’d have to speak to Sloan at some time, preferably soon, but right now, at this particular moment, she just wanted her breakfast. After placing two slices of raisin bread into the toaster, she walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed the cream cheese. Her ear pricked as they recognized…silence. By now, Sloan should have moved. A slight rustle, or even the grazing of the mug against the table, but he hadn’t.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she looked over her shoulder. He stared directly at her, as if he were waiting to say something. Brows furrowing, Vivienne was about to turn back to her breakfast when he spoke.
“If I offended you by returning to you the house in the manner that I did, I apologize.” He dipped his head in a formal manner. “And if I hurt you in any way, know it was unintentional.”
Vivienne star
ed at him for a long while, and then she nodded. “Apology accepted.”
Sloan bowed his head, and pushed his chair back.
She followed him with her gaze, wondering if he was leaving because of her. You don’t have to leave.”
A little smile touched his lips as he snapped the newspaper closed and picked up his mug. “CCC” was engraved in white around the blue enamel. “I was waiting for you, Vivienne.”
To apologize, she knew.
The toaster popped up, and she quickly placed the two pieces of bread on a saucer, before turning back to Sloan. He was almost out of the kitchen.
“Wait, please,” she called. “Why did you…treat me like that?”
“The pack abides by certain laws. Most are unwritten but passed down through generations,” he began in his usual cool and level tone. She nodded, wanting him to continue. “Although you were provoked by Samia, she will now have a greater reason to be granted a blood rite.” When Vivienne’s brows lifted, Sloan said, “You have drawn blood not once, but twice of the same wolf.”
Nodding, she asked slowly, “So what you’re saying is that although she provoked me, she’s likely to get a blood rite?”
“Yes, especially as she’s requested it before. This latest attack will only tell the pack you are strong enough, and able to fight Samia in a blood rite.”
Vivienne turned back to her toast. Not wanting to eat it cold, she grabbed a knife, stuck it into the cream cheese, and began slathering the two pieces of bread.
“Why is everyone so afraid of me fighting Samia?” she murmured to herself, thinking that if a blood rite was what it took to get Samia to keep her distance, she’d gladly fight it.
Although it was a rhetorical question, Sloan answered anyway, “Because if you lose, the pack will never respect you as an alpha and if you fight her and lose before the mating ceremony, some may even try to prevent it.”
As Vivienne bit into a slice of the toast, she lifted a brow. Conall would never allow that.
“I said try,” Sloan repeated, and she could have sworn there was a slight twinkle in his eye before it disappeared.
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