by Paula Quinn
She opened her eyes, realizing that Marcus was no longer kissing her but staring down into her face. His large, luminous eyes glistened like rare jewels, and when a tear fell from them onto her cheek, she released one of her hands from around his neck and touched his face.
“What’s wrong?” Oh, if it were possible to have her heart torn from her body to ease the pain she saw in his tender gaze, she would have ripped it out of her chest herself.
“What is this you’re feeling for me, Sam? I don’t understand it.”
Her eyes searched his. She ran her fingers over his lips, then gently kissed him. “Marcus, I’m falling in love with you.”
“Why is it hurting you?” he almost pleaded with her, his face almost as tormented as the day he first looked at his hands.
“It’s not hurting me,” she explained. “Love is sacrificial. And sometimes that means giving up things you’re afraid of. I’m afraid to love you.”
She felt him trying to understand, but he shook his head. I’ve never loved anything before, not in all the years I’ve lived, she heard him say silently. But I feel… He shook his head, unable to put words to it.
“I’m not going to leave you, Sam,” he told her instead.
“Do you promise?”
“Aye, I promise.”
Chapter Nineteen
The heavy blue haze of twilight cast shadows over the distant hills. Foamy whitecaps crashed against the cliffs below over and over like a fevered lover bent on battering his way into the heart of his would-be mistress.
Sam turned away from the glorious view of the world outstretched before her and smiled at Marcus standing behind her on the rocky cliff. He’d brought her here, to his home as he called it. A cave bigger than the one he’d flown her to the first time. This one was set high above the North Sea where the wind was salty and moist and beat against her face with the bracing chill of winter.
She rested her eyes on the sleek, broad width of his bare shoulders, where silken black locks danced over his tattooed flesh. Her heart leapt, bringing to life thousands of butterflies in the pit of her stomach when he smiled at her.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked him in a soft voice.
He shook his head and she watched, enchanted, as his hair caressed the sleek muscles she ached to touch. “Are you?” he asked her, and Sam closed her eyes and sighed at the heavy, lilting weight of his voice. He came to her and wrapped her in his arms, enveloping her in his warmth.
“Do you want to go back?”
“No,” she whispered into his chest. And she didn’t. Not yet anyway.
This place was Marcus’, wild, untamed, and dangerous; yet so starkly beautiful that it took her breath away. When he spoke, the crashing waves below were his echo and Sam realized this was where the music came from. It came from the sea. It came from the twinkling stars overhead. It was the pull of the moon dangling low in the night sky and the wind dancing over distant treetops. He was as ancient as the earth itself and he was a part of it. A part she could never be.
He swooped down and lifted her off her feet to cradle her in his arms. He carried her through the cavernous passageways; his steps matching each beat of some timeless spring weeping its cool water into a puddle somewhere to her right. In the pitch black that covered them, Sam clutched her hands around his neck and pressed her head to his chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear.
When he reached a hollowed-out chamber far enough away from the entrance that the wind no longer reached them, he laid her on a thick fur rug strewn across the floor. He built a fire for warmth and so that he could look upon her face when he kissed her.
When he stood over her, gazing down at the treasure the light brought to life, Sam lifted her arms to him. There were no words, only the gentle, hungry touch of his fingers along the curve of her jaw, the length of his body along hers, and the hard strength of it. His lips came to her in the deep golden glow of firelight, slowly at first, and up over the pulse of her throat. He tasted every inch of her neck, her jaw, igniting a path of flame with his tongue. One hand slipped under her neck and his other hand fit neatly over her hip, drawing her up closer to him.
*
Marcus stopped and stared down at her for a moment, to simply gather in the sight of her face. In that moment, he saw himself reflected in her eyes. He was a man and he felt every bit the part, aching for her, yet wanting nothing more than to hold her like this forever. He groaned at the stirrings she dragged out of him from someplace so deep they made him dizzy.
He could feel the pouring out of Sam’s heart just like he felt her missing him earlier. And he liked it…he liked it all. No one had ever missed him before and certainly no one had ever loved him. But he’d also felt her anguish at the thought of losing him. He never understood the full pain of that until he’d felt it from her. He had spent centuries alone, never needing a companion. But Sam needed him, and it near ravished his soul. Could he leave her? He didn’t think he could, but his attachment to her was a human feeling.
But the music. Could it be that she was his life-mate? The only time the melody was ever heard was when two hearts beat for each other while they flew toward heaven. He looked at her and drowned in the depthless dark pools of her eyes. He felt her fear and he did all he could to soothe it.
His gaze fell to her mouth and he whispered her name on a breath. He kissed her lower lip first and then breathed a ragged sigh on the curve of her upper lip. When he felt her fingers curl through his hair, his body hardened in a rush of desire so great, he had to close his hands into fists to stop them from tearing at her clothes. And then she tilted his head and kissed his eyelids, his brows, his cheeks, until he almost groaned with the love he felt pouring out of her.
“I want to give myself to you, Marcus,” she whispered into his hair.
Within him, his Drakkon heart roared and he dragged his throbbing manhood over her inner thigh. It was what every Drakkon wanted, to have a virgin offer herself without force, to partake in her purity and cleave her in twain with the power it gave him. And then eat her. Here she was, giving herself to him, already leaning up to tear off her sweater.
“Take me, Marcus.” Her sweet voice drifted over his flesh and he closed his eyes to try to regain his composure.
When he opened them again, he knew he was lost. She sat before him, his Sam, her eyes large with something akin to terror and desire mixed together. She was naked from the waist up and biting her lower lip.
Her breasts heaved. Marcus lifted his hand to touch them, surprised that his heart beat so hard. He said something in his ancient tongue offering her the worship she deserved. His fingertips traced the velvety soft buds of her nipples that tightened at his touch. Then his eyes found hers and he gave her an almost painful look, as if the mere sight of her was too much for him. It was. It made his heart swell with something unfamiliar and powerful.
Slowly, he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. She arched her back and he dipped his head, parting his lips to capture her nipple in his mouth. The moment he touched her, her body shook and trembled in his tightening embrace. When she lifted her arms over her head, Marcus lost all reason and drank from her deeply. He worshipped each breast in turn, smoothing his large hands over her throat, then down her flat belly.
His hands seemed to know her as they sculpted her shape. He was wild for her, and the more she trembled, the more feverish his mouth became. He cupped one breast in his hand, molding it within his fingers, taking delightful possession of her while he scraped his teeth, his lips, over her flesh.
He lowered her back onto the rug, never letting her go but kissing and suckling her until she cried out. With fingers that shook, he unbuttoned her jeans and ran his knuckles over the silky hollow between her hip and thigh.
He sat up on his knees to fully undress her and then groaned. For the first time in his life he was afraid of hurting something so precious. He met her languid gaze and unbuttoned his own jeans
.
*
Sam bit her lip, only half-aware of the fact that this man, this savage over her was about to make love to her. She almost cried out for him to stop. But the hot, driving ache she felt below her navel made her legs open on their own, inviting him to a place no other man had ever been before.
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.
All Sam could do was watch in helpless fascination at the way his strong hands tore his clothes away. She bit her lip at the sight of his naked body and a fleeting tremor of fear ripped through her at the size of him and the thought of all the sinewy muscle atop her.
She was afraid he would attack her without pause. He was a Drakkon after all. But he crawled up beside her and gathered her in his arms. He kissed her until she saw every color of the rainbow dance before her eyes. He filled all her senses and she raked her fingers down his arms, wanton in her sweet innocence, craving the secret intimacy he longed to give her.
She wrapped her legs around him, the way she had when they were flying and he covered her body with his. He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes pouring into hers with some unspoken agonizing need as ancient as time itself. He kissed her, parting her mouth with his tongue, and Sam clung to him as if he would fly away if she let go. She could feel the burning heat and throbbing muscle of his erection between her legs and opened for him, wanting him, needing him.
But he didn’t take her. Instead, he lifted his head so that their gazes met. “No.”
His breathing was ragged, his eyes half-closed. He looked like some dark angel in the throes of sinful ecstasy, and Sam swallowed hard to keep from weeping at his raw beauty. “I would taste a pearl of your passion before I take it.” His voice was a raspy, restrained growl. “It’s a treasure I’ll cherish for all eternity.”
In that moment, Sam knew what her virginity meant to him, but she didn’t care that it was all he wanted. She would surrender all to give it to him, to give him anything he desired.
She held her breath while he finished undressing her, then kissed his way down her neck. He paused to drink from each nipple and then resumed kissing down her belly. He parted her legs gently with his hands and ran his bristled cheek along her inner thigh.
She gasped when his tongue flickered over her most private part. She sighed and relaxed again when he kissed her there as if she were a thing to be adored. What was happening to her? She could hardly believe it when she whispered yes and arched her back, inviting him to partake. And partake he did. His tongue worked meticulously, drinking up every pearl her body shed for him, savoring all as if her passion was the liquid of life itself. Then, suddenly, unable to be separated from her another second, he heaved his body over hers, catching her knees with his own to stop them from closing.
“Don’t be frightened,” he whispered, his breath close to her lips. “No…nay, my sweet. Relax with me.” He soothed her, his voice deep and soft just above the seam of her mouth.
He kissed her with the same tenderness he used to enter her. He stopped, patient, when she shivered and clutched his shoulders, and then he spoke to her again, kissing every part of her face, melting her beneath him. He moved slowly, clenching his teeth with the passion that threatened to engulf him. He stroked her brow, smiled at her as though she gave him the breath he needed to live. But soon, he could no longer control the need to plunge deep within her.
Sam threw her head back at the stabbing pain that wrenched her. Her nails dug deeply into his muscled shoulders, but then he groaned, and it was almost an animal sound, ripped from his lungs. At first, Sam thought the pain would continue and she was almost disappointed, but then he withdrew slowly and thrust again, and then again. All the while, he stared deep into her eyes, aching with need for her. He plunged deep, closing his eyes as delicious heat tightened her around him further.
“Marcus,” she breathed, unable to believe what he was doing to her and loving him more for doing it.
His body was hard and tight, even the muscles in his arms spasmed. His thrusts were slow and long and deep, and she ventured to run her fingers down his back and feel the power in his thighs while he claimed her over and over again. Oh, how she loved him. She looked at him, watched the ecstasy play across his beautiful face. Her heart melted because she was doing this to him.
He withdrew again, almost leaving her body completely, and then he smiled with sinful, wicked joy and drove himself into her like a sleek, hot lance. Sam moaned as hundreds of fires exploded inside her, lighting every nerve. He whispered something she was sure would have made her blush. He rocked her and plunged into her body to the drumming beat of primal, ancient music. She gasped and lifted her legs higher up his back, and then she grunted and screamed his name as agonizing, exhilarating convulsions racked through her in waves.
*
Marcus watched her release. He was unable to take his eyes off her she was so breathtaking. He touched her face, whispering how she made him feel. And then, when she moaned, spent with exhaustion, he slipped his arm under her back and sat up on his knees, lifting her with him.
Still inside her, he caressed her to his chest and sighed when she wilted against him. He cherished her, and lifted her slowly up and down on his erection. Her name caught in his throat and he buried his face in her neck. What were these strange feelings that made him want to protect her, live for her, and die for her? When she lifted her arms around his neck, he tightened his arm around her and moved her harder.
He threw his head back, about to burst inside her. “My treasure.” His voice was set to music, his eyes almost pleading for understanding. He groaned, sounding more like a wolf than a man…or even a Drakkon. He clenched his teeth, gasping as he exploded into her. And then he kissed her face until she laughed.
Later, he held her, wrapped up in his fur blanket. He could still hear the music playing somewhere far off. The memory of dancing with her would be forever imprinted on him. He would sooner give up his entire hoard, even his life, before he ever strayed. He wondered if she was what Padgora wanted. His greatest treasure. Something he would have to leave behind as leverage for the Whites. Padgora was afraid of him coming back as a Drakkon and killing all of them. He wouldn’t do it if it meant bringing harm to Sam.
When he was transformed back, would he stop caring for her? At first, he had desired Sam because she was a virgin, and then he desired her because he was fond of her and because she was a virgin. Things were changing quickly though, instant-by-instant while he caressed her in his arms. She was his. He pulled her closer, throwing his leg over her hip and tightening his arms already coiled around her. He would bring destruction such as the Whites had never known if they tried to take her from him.
He inhaled deeply. The scent was gone, gone because she had given it to him. He smiled in the firelight, not because he’d been victorious over a virgin, but because he still wanted her. She was his life-mate and she was human. What did it mean for him? She would die long before he did and he’d have to live out an eternity without her.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked him, snuggled into his chest.
“I’m thinking that perhaps I’m falling in love with you, as well.”
Shifting in his embrace, Sam tilted her head up and looked at him. “Really?”
He smiled and nodded. “Really.” And then he kissed her and fire filled him hotter than any combustible substance he’d ever breathed as a Drakkon.
Chapter Twenty
Marcus and Sam didn’t return to the castle for another two days, and when they did, both were surprised to find Ellie there. And she was not alone.
“I came by to see if you were back and found him lurking around,” Ellie whispered and pushed her head close to Sam’s while the two paused at the entrance of the solar and checked out the tall man sitting with Marcus. “I knew he was one of them by all that snowy white hair and those silver eyes. They just don’t look like mortal men, do they?”
Sam shook her head. She’d seen this man before, in the p
arking lot of the grocery store. He’d been following her. She looked him over carefully now. His hair wasn’t pure white but such a pale shade of blonde that it was hard to tell. His eyes were almost as beautiful as Marcus’; large and wide-set. He looked like an angel. His lips were full and his nose straight and strong. He was handsome, in a strange, angelic sort of way.
“Who is he and what does he want?” she asked Ellie while she balanced a tray, carrying their tea.
“Said his name was Thomas White, distant relation to Patrick White, the author of that book. I told him I knew what he was and he smiled and nearly knocked my knickers off. Said he needed to see Marcus and that he and Marcus went way back.”
Sam narrowed her eyes on him. “I’m sure they do.”
Can he hear me? She sent to Marcus.
Nay.
Is he a danger to you? Because if he is, Ellie and I know how to swing a frying pan.
Marcus stopped listening to what Thomas White was saying and turned to smile at her.
I should be insulted that you think I cannot handle this scrawny man, but I like that you would try to protect me.
“This must be Samantha.” Thomas White rose to his feet when she entered the room.
“She is mine, Thomas.” Marcus sprang to his feet and stepped directly in front of her, shielding her from their guest, though Mr. White hadn’t taken another step toward her. When he spoke, his voice rang with the promise of violence.
“I can tell that,” their guest said.
Or did he say he could smell that?
Sam turned as red as beet and contemplated running out of the solar and to hell with the tea.
“You’ve made the lady blush, Marcus.”
Was Thomas White insane to push Marcus now, with the promise of fire burning so intently in Marcus’ eyes?
“Worry not,” the pale angel continued in his boldness. “His temper will fade with time.”
Marcus turned around and took the tray from her hands. His scorching gaze met hers briefly before he returned it to Thomas. “Let’s discuss how you wake up sweating every night because of dreams of an Aqua Drakkon who still considers charring your friends to cinders and making you his next meal.”