The knight snapped his mouth closed on whatever argument he’d been about to make. He gave Belle a glower, then swept a courtier’s bow. “As you will, Sire.”
Before Belle could decide whether she’d just won or gotten herself in a great deal of trouble, Tristan stalked off the field to catch her by one arm. “Come on, partner. We’re going to have a little talk.”
And he hauled her after him.
It was two in the morning before David and Eva returned to her apartment. Shelly’s mother had arrived just before the ambulance crew, announcing she was going to take the pair to her house after they got checked out at the emergency room.
But it was Ronnie who had David’s undivided attention when the police arrived. Under his ice-blue glare, the man had confessed to beating Shelly and hitting his son.
Eva kept a close eye on the cops the entire time, afraid they’d notice the way David’s pupils contracted into vertical slits when he was pissed. She figured if anybody commented, she’d just claim he was wearing special contacts.
Hopefully the cops wouldn’t realize nobody made contacts that reacted to light.
Luckily, the police were far more interested in Ronnie’s confession than in the two neighbors who’d called the cops. They asked Eva and David a few questions, then let them go.
Too wired to sleep, Eva decided a trip to Wal-Mart was in order. The store was open all night, which gave her a good opportunity to replace David’s pants before they gelded him—a fate he insisted was imminent.
She and David left the store half an hour later with three pairs of jeans, four knit shirts in different colors, socks, underwear, and running shoes, along with a toothbrush, razor, and male deodorant.
“I’ve got to get some sleep,” Eva told him as they walked into her apartment carrying their purchases. “I’m supposed to open the shop in a few hours.”
“What shop?” David asked, following her back toward the guest bedroom.
“My father and I own a comic book store,” she explained. “We share the chores of operating it. It’s my turn to open tomorrow.” Eva frowned. “I’m just not sure what to do about you while I’m working.”
His eyes narrowed as his pupils contracted into slits. She really should have bought him a pair of sunglasses. “What do you mean, you are not sure what to do about me?”
“Uh—” Oh, shit. Might as well brazen it out. “I don’t know if I should leave you here while I go to work. What if your enemy tracks you down?”
David stepped in so close to her, she became instantly aware of his size, his heat, his scent. “What if my enemy tracks you down?”
“Ah ... yeah.” She stared up at him, half-hypnotized. “Maybe we should stick together.”
“Yes,” he purred. “It’s best if we are together.”
David lowered his head and kissed her. She froze, stunned by the feeling of his lips moving on hers. Slow. Hot. Exquisitely seductive. His tongue stroked across her lower lip until she opened for him with a helpless moan. His fingers found her chin, cupped gently. His hand felt warm, just slightly rough with calluses.
The burning heat within her had been waiting for just this chance. It blazed up, hot and savage, searing her self-control to a black cinder.
And she was lost.
Eva’s mouth tasted rich, female, intoxicating. The gentle power of it maddened him, made David want to roll in her like a cat in catnip. He contented himself with kisses—gentle bites, licking passes over her lips, before stealing inside to trace her teeth and tease her tongue. She moaned and kissed him back: delightful pressure, soft lips that gave against his, a nibble of his lower lip.
His arms slid around her without his conscious intent, hands slipping down to explore the shape of her: the lush curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the rise of her rib cage. Her breasts seemed to call his hands, and he answered, first with careful brushes of fingertips that explored soft cloth and the intriguing contours beneath. What was she wearing under her shirt? And he found one nipple, jutting hopefully beneath all that fabric, a tight little bump that hardened even more as he cupped her, thumbed her, strummed the pouting button like a lute string. Eva’s hands fisted in his shirt, as if she were holding on to the only stable thing in a whirlwind.
David kissed her some more, getting rapidly drunk on her as he slipped a hand under her shirt to find out what she wore beneath it. Something silky covered the full lower curve of her breast, turning to something a little rougher—lace?
Well, of course he had to find out. David grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it upward. Eva raised her arms, giving silent permission, and he drew the shirt off over her head and dropped it heedlessly on the floor.
Then he simply gazed at her. Her breasts were lovely handfuls, pale and round, cupped in thin lace and black silk. Bra, his memory whispered, and he wondered how he knew that.
His attention zeroed in on her nipples. They jutted beneath the silk, the rosy shadow of her areoles peeking past the delicate web of black lace.
David looked up to find her watching him with a trace of anxiety in those big dark eyes. As if she was afraid he wouldn’t adore the sight of her.
“You are beautiful,” he told her. Pitiful words, he instantly decided, and tried again. “Your skin is so pale, like fresh, sweet cream.”
“I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to lie out in the sun,” she said, as if his words were a criticism. “And they say it’s not good for you, since it can cause ...”
He slid his hands up and cupped her breasts, and she stuttered to a stop, those gorgeous eyes huge, eating light.
“Your eyes are so dark. Like a moonless night in a deep forest.”
“I’ve always wished they were blue. Like yours.” She stared into his face as if he’d hypnotized her. “You know, when you feel strong emotion, they almost ... glow. And the pupils do that slit thing. Like a ...”
David thumbed one nipple, and she apparently forgot what she was going to say, her head tipping back to show him the elegant line of her slender neck framed in the gleaming darkness of her hair. A pulse throbbed there, rapidly thumping, and he had to put his lips against it, feel its leaping bound. He tongued it, tasting her skin, trace of salt, female perfume, and the tinge of wild musk that was her wolf.
Fluffy.
He smiled against her throat, remembering the whimsical name. What did she look like when she changed? He wanted to see her, imagined her regal strength, her silken fur. She’d be as beautiful in that form as she was now.
He was purring again, but he didn’t bother trying to stop.
David purred, a deep rhythmic rumble Eva could feel against her rib cage as he pulled her close. Her eyes drifted closed so she could concentrate on the kisses he was stringing down the curve of her throat. His warm lips felt impossibly soft, especially compared to the hard strength of the rest of him.
She wanted to see him naked again. Sliding a hand down his hard body, Eva grabbed handfuls of shirt and tugged upward. He lifted his brawny arms, and she managed to drag the tight shirt off. It hit the floor with a soft thump as she went for the snap of those tight, tight jeans.
He sucked his breath in as she started unzipping them, revealing his cock, which had somehow managed to get hard despite the skintight denim. Its head was a lovely dark rose, with a pearlescent drop of arousal trembling on the curve. Eva thought about tasting it, but she really had to get his poor dick out of those murderous jeans.
The zipper hissed in complaint as she pulled it down. His big hands joined hers when she started dragging at his waistband.
“Good God,” Eva muttered, tugging, “I’ve worn panty hose that weren’t this tight. No wonder you bitched.”
“You have no idea,” he growled, wiggling in a way that seemed so out of character she had to stifle a giggle.
David finally planted his butt on the carpet while she tugged and jerked, trying to work the skin-tight jeans down his muscled legs. The fabric clung like a determined—and very je
alous—lover. Eva started giggling helplessly. When they had to stop tugging to pull off his shoes, David joined her, first with deep chuckles, then in booming laughter that made her giggle harder.
But when they finally got him naked, Eva’s laughter died a very quick death. She stared at him as he sprawled on the floor like a pasha, all long legs, his cock curved over his tight belly. His biceps bulged as he braced back on his elbows, and his hair fell around his shoulders like a river of ebony silk striped in silver. He wasn’t going gray; the stripes cut horizontally across his hair like the smoky markings of a cat. As she stared in fascination, he reached up and flipped back a lock of hair.
“Your ears are pointed.” They formed curving, elegant tips that reminded her of the elves from the Lord of the Rings movies. What the hell was he, anyway?
Then he rose up onto his knees with a powerful flex of his body, and she found she really didn’t give a damn. Whatever he was, he was most definitely male. And he wanted her. A lot.
David dropped to all fours and crawled up her body to unzip her pants and start working them down her hips. Eva lifted her pelvis and watched his eyes heat as he contemplated her tiny lace panties. She was suddenly very glad she hadn’t worn her usual plain white cotton. He paused to pull off her shoes, then dragged the jeans the rest of the way off before going after her underwear.
And God, she was wet. Slick and swollen and ready for him, zero to sixty in two seconds flat.
He’d taken the panties off, and now he spread her, taking her legs in his big hands and parting her knees with delicious male greed. He edged his big shoulders between them, and lowered his head, and—Oh, God—he started eating her, licking her like a really juicy peach, long passes of his clever tongue while one finger worked inside her swollen entrance. Sensation seemed to blind her for a moment. She fell backward on the floor, staring helplessly at the ceiling, and felt. Felt that tongue, felt that finger, sliding and stroking and driving her insane.
Eva heard herself moaning. She knew she should hold it down because the walls were thin, but she didn’t care. She let it rip, yowling like a cat in heat.
Lick. Lick. Thrust. Lick.
Holy God.
She couldn’t move. Pleasure-stunned, she sprawled on the floor with him between her legs, using his tongue in delicately merciless flicks.
His hands found her breasts, thumbs strumming her nipples lazily, raking back and forth while he licked. Delight rolled over her like waves of heated honey, sweet and slooow, and she lost her mind by inches.
Then he drew away, and the loss of that hot tongue made her blink in stunned disappointment. Where was he going ... ?
Oh. On top of her. Crawling up the length of her body, his hair and his warm, hard skin brushing along her flesh. He settled down lazily, his hips nudging her thighs wider. She watched him reach down and grab that cock, and aim it, and then ...
Oh, sweet God in heaven.
As if he had all the time in the world, David filled her, stuffed her slowly with inch after inch of stone-hard shaft. Eva shuddered helplessly and rolled her head back. His lips found the pulse in her throat, kissing and biting as she quivered. Somehow she managed to lift her heavy hands and slide them along the width of his shoulders, feeling him under her hands, warm and strong.
Had she ever made love like this? Ever? With anybody?
The answer to that was a big, fat no. Nobody had ever touched her like this, taken the time to drive her out of her mind before he even thought about his own pleasure.
So she lay under David and quivered, stunned stupid by every sweet, hot wave that rolled over her head.
Eva entranced him. The smell of her skin at her pulse, the taste of the wet flesh between her legs, the long, straight silk of her hair in his fist.
The way she gripped him, slick and snug around his cock, a maddening delight.
He could feel the climax gathering in his balls, hot and heavy, ready to pound its way to his skull.
Gods.
Breath caught, David pulled out, forcing himself to go slowly, fighting to make the pleasure last. He wanted to hang on to every second of this incredible, soul-searing delight.
And, ooh, the way she looked.
She had her eyes closed, her lashes like sable feathers against her creamy cheeks. Her mouth parted as she moaned, lips flushed dark rose with passion, a blush painting those high, exquisite cheekbones. Her hair spread across the floor around her head in a dark halo of shining silk.
Every time he thrust deep, he felt her belly against his abdomen, her thighs sliding against his, her hips rolling to meet his grinding pelvis.
She slid her hands down, ran her fingers over his hips as if looking for a good grip. Found it, nails digging into his skin, the tiny pain sending him jolting deeper, harder, faster.
Lost and flying.
Her eyes opened, met his. Dark as the reflection of a moonless night on a still mountain lake. Drawing him in, pulling him down.
Her pupils flashed red, like fire igniting from a lightning strike, canine teeth lengthening into fangs as she came. Her scream spiraled into a deep-throated roar. Her nails lengthened into claws, but he barely felt the pain as he roared back at her.
Coming.
Pleasure like a firestorm raced along his nerves, searing his consciousness to ash as he shoved all the way to the balls.
Coming.
She writhed beneath him, her legs twining around his, tightening until his bones creaked. His teeth became fangs.
He raced along a forest trail on four big paws, alien trees all around. And she ran beside him, a streak of black wolf fur and flashing fire eyes, tongue lolling between white, white teeth.
Not human. Either of them.
Together. Finally. After so many uncounted centuries of longing.
Together.
FOUR
Eva lay on the floor with David collapsed on top of her, sweating, panting, listening to their heartbeats slow.
For a moment as they’d come, she’d seen them running together in some kind of rain forest straight out of Avatar, surrounded by plants in colors she’d never even imagined. He was a huge cat, a streak of black with silver stripes along his haunches and massive forelegs, his eyes pale as sapphires. And she was in wolf form—a real wolf, not a were, running full out. And she’d felt him in her mind, intelligent and powerful and somehow incredibly old. Had it been real? Gathering her courage, she asked, “Did you feel that?”
Bracing himself on his elbows, David looked down at her with a sound midway between a laugh and a snort. “I felt a great many things.” He grinned and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “All delightful.”
Eva blinked, oddly flustered. Though why she’d find a kiss on the nose more intimate than everything else they’d done, she had no idea.
Maybe it was because the gesture was so sweet and silly—something shared between true lovers, not a pair of strangers scratching a seductive itch. Eva found she liked that about him—that he’d do something that gently goofy. The gesture gave her courage.
Taking a deep breath, she told him about the—vision? dream?—whatever it was. Running through that hyper-real forest together, linked mind to mind. “For a minute there, it felt like we touched.” Her courage almost deserted her, but she managed to get the rest out anyway. “Mentally, I mean. Like in some kind of psychic connection.”
God, that sounded lame.
But David nodded. “Yes, I experienced the same thing.” Absently, he smoothed a lock of hair back from her face, his gaze thoughtful. “We were running in a jungle together, and we were ... happy. You were a wolf, while I was some kind of huge cat. What do you think it means?”
She stared at him. “You’re asking me?”
“You’re the one with a memory longer than three hours ago.”
“Ah. Good point. I have no idea what it means. I don’t even know if I can really turn into a wolf—the four-legged kind, anyway. Maybe it was just a dream.”
“We cou
ld experiment. See if we really can transform into animals.” David yawned hugely and gave her a lazy grin. “Tomorrow. I’m afraid I won’t be good for much more tonight. You’ve exhausted me.” His smile took on a wicked quirk. “Fabulous sex does that.”
Eva’s cheeks flamed. “How do you know it was fabulous if your memory only goes back three hours?”
“Trust me, darling. A man knows.” David leaned down and kissed her, but this was no affectionate peck on the nose. He took his time with it, conducting a deliciously lazy exploration, with tongue and teeth and male sensuality so intense her head spun.
Amnesia victim or not, the man knew how to use his mouth. And his tongue. And his hands.
And his truly incredible dick, added Fluffy, sounding sated and smug.
For once, Eva agreed with her.
Tristan trailed Belle to her house on the outskirts of Avalon, bitching all the way. It was a modest place by the standards of the magical city: three stories of gray fieldstone with a slate roof, arched windows and doorways, and a courtyard planted with orchids.
The master bedroom sprawled across most of the second floor. The furniture was dark cherry, intricately carved in a whimsical tangle of ivy and honeysuckle. Fairies, dragons, and unicorns lurked among the leaves—here a sinuous tail, there a tiny face framed by gossamer wings, over there a proudly lifted horned head. She’d spent more raw magic on the canopied bed alone than most social-climbing witches blew on entire mansions.
Tristan stopped complaining for ten whole minutes while he contemplated the furniture. His brows flew up. “Creating all this must have knocked you on your ass for a week.”
“Pretty much,” she admitted cheerfully.
“You magic these, too?” He toed one of the colorful rag rugs scattered on the gleaming pine floor.
“Nope. Made ’em by hand.” Unable to resist displaying her handiwork, Belle pointed at the thickly embroidered bedspread with its dragons and fairies in countless shades of silken thread. “The quilt, too. Took me four months.” And she’d relished every stitch.
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