“I’ve never been able to deny you, Sarah. From the moment I found you I’ve been under your command, and you have no idea what a revelation that is for me. The beast in me listens to you.” Entwining his fingers into her hair, he pulled her upwards to meet his gaze.
Her eyes glistened in the greyness of the room, her parted lips a dark crimson on her ivory skin… Mother of all things… “You are virtue embodied; the Goddess incarnate.”
The strap slipped off her wrist and the top of her dress came down, releasing one breast to his view, shortly followed by strap number two.
Half naked, he drank her in with his eyes, imprinting this moment into his mind. This, he would take to his death – the woman that stirred him to life.
She waited for him with shallow breaths, head thrown back, eyes half closed, completely exposed in her trust of him, and it unravelled the last thread holding him together. He went for her throat first, nuzzling his nose against the crook of her neck, unable to keep himself back from tasting that pulse point … he’ll get to the ones behind her knees later.
He rubbed his face into her neck – his chin, his cheeks, his hair – marking her in his own way … his hands cupped her swaying breasts and she moaned in pleasure, the centres of them peaking at his first touch.
Her dress fell past her knees, and he scooped her up, then placed her lying down on the bed with a little more force than he’d intended.
She giggled when she bounced, and then she gasped when he found her pebbled nipple with his tongue, his fingers gently stroking the back of her knee, grooming a fresh, dizzying wave of pheromones from her.
Not that he needed help with arousal – he’d never been so god-damn hard in his life.
She kicked the dress off with a flick of her foot, opening herself up to him.
He groaned and dropped his weight into the centre of her, the bulge of his erection nestling so perfectly at the juncture of her thighs.
“Oh, god,” she moaned, rubbing herself against him, her pace becoming frenzied as he pulled and tugged at her nipples with his teeth.
Reluctantly, he left them behind and worked his way down her torso, her personal spice becoming heavier, muskier…
Are you insane? Do you think you can really do this without hurting her?
Fuck. Damn the voice of reason.
Well, it could go take a flying jump. He couldn’t stop … he wouldn’t stop. This was her only wish before he left her behind with no explanation like the jerk he really was; so this he would give her.
His tongue traced the edge of her lacy underwear. “You are so amazingly beautiful. I want to go slow, but I’m not sure I can.”
“Fast is good,” she mumbled, lifting her hips towards him.
He hooked his fingers into her knickers and peeled them off her, along with her tights, her fragrance drugging him into near delirium. “I need to taste you.”
With a whimper, she nodded.
He dug his fingernails into his palms to keep his focus as he reached out and licked her, tongue fully flat to take in as much of her as he could.
She wailed against him, her cry music to his ears, but his vision was swimming and he had to pull back for her own safety.
By god, she was divine.
He stole a quick glance at the back of his hand for fur. It was one of the first places that sprouted hair; that, and his fingernails elongated…
No. No fur or claws yet, thank the heavens.
Before he lost it, he made his way back up her body and planted a kiss on her mouth, offering her a taste of herself.
She frantically worked at the button of his trousers.
“I thought you wanted a shower.”
“Later. I don’t know what you do to me, but I need you now. Please…”
If she didn’t stop begging he’d come on her now. Shit. This was such a bad idea. It may just be the worst idea he’d ever had, second only to that night five years ago he’d decided to walk home alone.
But there was absolutely no stopping her. His trousers and boxers had already left his hips courtesy of her hands and feet.
“Wait…” He placed an arm underneath her and rolled her onto him so he now lay under her. “I want you on top; I want to see you.”
His reply was a little sound of disbelief and he suddenly froze.
She was looking at his dick with wide-eyed shock.
Fuck! Had he—
No. His head fell back in relief. No copious amounts of fur there either; no enlarged head or unnatural girth or length. “What is it? Is er … is there a problem?”
Laughter erupted from her, and hell if he didn’t feel like an inadequate schoolboy.
“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped. “I’m so sorry, it’s just … I don’t know what I did to get so lucky.”
Lucky? “So … everything’s to your liking down there?”
“Hell, yeah!” she grinned.
He found himself grinning back and entertaining the ridiculous notion of booking two plane tickets to Egypt. But that would be stupid and a bad case of reality avoidance. She brought that point right home to him quite clearly when she leaned forward and took him in her mouth, licking and sucking him like a god-damn lollipop.
A little growl tumbled out of him and he was vaguely aware of his gums aching as his teeth grew long.
No!
In panic he reached beneath him, under the mattress. There was a hazardous spring that had broken right through the bottom of the mattress – he’d found it last night and had contemplated threatening a law suit to see if the hotel would throw in breakfast on the house. Where the fuck was it now?
He fiddled around as Sarah bobbed up and down on his cock, his balls already tightening with anticipation—yeah, just don’t let the mutant penis put in an appearance—and then his finger scraped it sharply.
Yes.
With half a grimace and a half-cry of triumph, he rammed the palm of his left hand right onto the spring. It skewered him right through his skin, rubbing against bone. He twisted his hand around it for good measure, the pain jerking him upwards, but alleviating the beast in him so he could pull it back from the surface.
Sarah interpreted his movements as him being near the edge, and quickened her pace.
Hell, keep that up and he would be near the edge.
“Sarah … darling…” He gently tugged at her head with his other hand. “You don’t have to service me.”
She glanced up at him, bemused. “Is that what you guys are calling it nowadays?”
He offered her a quick smile, relieved that his teeth had gone back to normal for the moment. “I want you on me. Ride me. Make yourself come on me.”
The playful amusement in her eye quickly turned to fiery lust. She rose up onto her knees, her voluptuous body towering over his as he kept himself still for her. Did she know he’d lay himself down for her over and over again? Did she know he’d let her collar him if that was what she wanted? “Make me yours, Sarah.”
She seemed to like that, and it made him glad. He’d never seen himself with a flaccid mate, the way most other Tridents seemed to like them. Sarah had a dominant side to her, no matter how timid she seemed outside the bedroom.
Timid? No. Not when it counted – she’d launched herself at a werewolf for Christ’s sake.
For a few seconds, she teased herself on him, her slippery sex coating his with juice and heat and fuck, he hoped his eyes weren’t glowing. He squeezed his bloodied hand around the spring spiked through it just in case.
Tossing her head back in a show of pure ecstasy, Sarah sank onto him inch by inch, the moan that reverberated throughout her body sending mini shockwaves through him. “It’s been a while,” she whispered, hoarsely.
“Yeah,” he hissed with effort. He could tell. By all things holy, she was fucking tight.
Eventually, she took the full length of him, her backside resting firmly on the tops of his thighs, and it was all he could do to placate the monster inside him.
&nbs
p; He gritted his teeth and ground his hand around the spring once more. With the thumb of his free hand, he brushed her nipple, gently pulling at it as she rocked back and forth on him.
She groaned heavily as what seemed a moment of abandon washed over her, causing her to clench around him, her movements suddenly erratic. “Amil … you’ll make me come too soon.”
“No such thing as too soon,” he replied, and focused all his attention on her sensitised breast, encouraging her with his hips, embedding himself into her as deeply as he could while his sanity lay embedded in his tortured hand.
She had to come soon. There was no way he could hold back from orgasm, but if he climaxed now, he was sure he could at least keep his Trident from showing itself; if he kept holding back, there was no telling what would happen when he finally let go.
He squeezed and flicked her rock hard nipple, setting the pace from under her…
“Mmmm … Amil,” she cried, trying to slow him down.
No, sorry. No slowing down…
He left her breast puckered and red, and found her clit instead, and there he concentrated his efforts, sliding his thumb just under the swollen nub; pressing, rolling, pressing, rolling…
She lost control.
She screamed his name, arched her back, convulsed all around him…
He followed suit, swelling inside her, surging, wrenching his hand back and forth against the spring – hell, he’d tear his hand in half if he had to. With a roar, he flung his head to the right, praying his fangs stayed put as he pumped himself into her.
I did it! I fucking did it!
He thanked the powers with all of his being that tonight wasn’t the full moon. With a frightening clarity, he knew he’d never have been able to hold back from claiming her as his mate if the moon had been round.
And with a heart-wrenching lucidity, he knew that leaving her was the right thing to do – the only thing to do.
Sarah fell forward against his chest, out of breath and sated, and he stroked her hair, loving the frizz of it even though he knew she hated it. It made her look untameable, and it was a quality very much within her that he was fast developing a deep admiration for.
He pulled his hand off the spring with some difficulty, and he hoped she didn’t hear the slight squelching noise it made. It wouldn’t take long to heal, but it wouldn’t do to have her see it. Hopefully she was too far gone to properly notice the smell of fresh blood.
“Come on.” He sat up, still buried in her. “Tighten your legs around me.”
“Where are we going?”
He hauled them both off the bed. “You said you wanted a shower,” he smiled.
“Oooh, goody,” she replied with a yawn.
He laughed and strode towards the bathroom wearing her around his hips, not bothering to turn the light on. All the shades of grey that filled the room were lighter than they were before anyway.
She giggled.
She did that a lot. Shame he’d never hear it again. “What is it?”
“You. Inside me.”
He kissed her on the head and fought back tears, too aware that the last time he’d cried had been the night he was turned.
She snuggled into him as he stepped inside the bathtub with her. “Come back for me, Amil.”
He wanted to say yes; he wanted to kneel at her feet and offer her the world.
Three months…
“Three months, my darling.” He choked on his words. “If I don’t come back in three months, I won’t be back.” He pulled away to look at her and planted a kiss on those lips he’d never forget the taste of. “But know that the only reason I wouldn’t return is because I can’t. You’ve changed me. I’d walk the length of the Nile with no food or water to find my way back to you if that was all it took – if it were that easy.”
She looked at him solemnly, blinking rapidly, unable to stop her bottom lip from trembling. “It’s not that easy then?”
With a sad smile, he shook his head, then turned the shower handle, allowing the spray of the warm water to cleanse them both.
Chapter Thirteen
Taylor had never felt so defeated in his life.
Okay, once. The night he’d been attacked by the rogue wolf and consequently turned.
He padded around to the back of Sarah’s house – what used to be their marital home – and contemplated waiting for her return, until he suddenly remembered she always kept a spare key under a loose stone by the back door.
He sniffed it out with his nose and turned the stone over.
Sure enough, there it was. Some things didn’t change after all.
He shifted into human form, picked up the key and let himself in through the kitchen door.
This had to be one of his more stupid ideas. He hadn’t been back here since he’d turned into a wolf. He’d followed her around town, he’d been to her shop, but he’d never been back here. The memories had been too painful, and the only reason he was here now was because Sarah was in serious danger.
That was allowed, right? That made him a bit of a jerk as opposed to a huge jerk.
Guilt ate him up when he thought of the way he’d left Lydia; not just guilt, but that familiar, mating-type pain that radiated from his heart. He supposed it was the you’re-being-a-bastard-to-your-mate pain. There, I’ve christened it.
He sighed and shut the kitchen door behind him, not bothering to lock it in case he needed to make a quick exit.
God … being back here is…
Ridiculously, he found himself holding his breath as he made his way through the kitchen and adjoining dining room, and then he stopped in his tracks.
It was completely different.
The dining room had been painted a duck egg blue on the far wall, where it had been magnolia before. All the other walls were painted white. The glass table they’d had, had been replaced by a smaller, dark wood table and chairs, all of which were tucked away in the corner near the patio doors. The rest of the room was decorated with bits and bobs from Sarah’s past travels: trinkets from Morocco, Canada, Bali – that had been their honeymoon, not that she’d remember that – and a few more items he didn’t recognise from countries he couldn’t figure out. They’d travelled a lot together, but Sarah had always had a huge love of places far and wide, and Beth and Holly had been her frequent travel colleagues throughout university.
How odd that she’d turned the dining room around.
Conscious of his dirty feet on the wooden floor, he stepped lightly into the hallway and tried to ignore the tug at his heart at how his photos no longer decorated the walls. The hallway itself had been repainted a bright yellow. Sarah had always said it was too dark in here.
Had she gone and changed everything? Did she not like how it was before?
Wandering into the living room, he got the shock of his life, when he spotted that a new sofa suite had been put in; modern looking, white leather furniture that he wouldn’t have thought she’d choose. Very chic. Very art deco. Very … Sarah?
Guess so.
His inner wolf whined at him in his mind. What are you doing here? Go home to Lydia.
But he was gripped at the changes he was witnessing.
Treading softly, he ascended the stairs onto the second floor. The staircase was covered in a plush white carpet that hadn’t been there nine months ago. He made his way to the bedroom. Surely some semblance of familiarity – of him – would still be present there. It was incredibly disconcerting how she seemed to have happily wiped him out of her life. Lawrence had gotten rid of the evidence, and Sarah had had a makeover.
He let out a breath of relief when he saw that the bedroom, by and large, had remained the same. The only changes were the bedding and the curtains.
Yeah, maybe she ran out of money and has this room planned for later this year.
He ignored his snarky inner voice and took it all in. So this is what she was like left to her own devices – without him.
He walked towards the wardrobe, bu
t stopped before it when he spotted her jewellery stand. She was never one for too much jewellery, but she had always worn the things most precious to her.
Five friendship bracelets lay hanging on a hook on the stand.
“Fuck it, Sarah…”
She’d never taken them off in the years they’d been together, not once. And now, it looked like she barely touched them.
What were you expecting?
What had he been expecting?
With curiosity and trepidation, he opened the wardrobe. It was odd to see it with all of his clothes missing. Sarah’s clothes still looked the same; it didn’t seem like she’d been shopping for clothes so much in the past year. But there were quite a few shoe boxes piled up to one side.
Gingerly, he lifted the lid of one of the boxes to look inside.
Unicorns.
He cursed under his breath.
All of her unicorns. She’d put them all away.
And he was the idiot who’d gone and given her a new one just earlier this morning.
The one she attacked us with, reminded his wolf with a roll of its eyes.
“She’s moved on,” he said aloud to the air – the air that smelled of new paint, and of Sarah. His own scent was gone from this house.
This wasn’t his home any more.
He perched at the edge of her bed.
All this time, he’d worried that she was okay, that she might be suffering, that maybe a part of her felt lonely or aching for a loss she couldn’t fathom… The reality was she’d moved on. And why wouldn’t she? She had no memory of him at all. It was easy to let go when you remembered nothing; easy to start afresh.
She’d moved on, and he was the one stuck in the past.
He’d thought she might be hurting. He was the one hurting.
He’d thought she might be pining for lost love. He was the one pining.
He’d thought she needed saving…
Then you’ll be saving her forever…
Lydia was right. It was he who needed saving.
And ironically, sat here at the edge of what used to be his bed, it was Lydia he wanted beside him. Lydia who had been nothing but patient with him the past three weeks while he’d been faffing around trying to figure things out. Lydia who he’d promised himself to tonight, right before he’d run out on her.
Cry Of The Wolf (Eye Of The Storm) Page 14