“If he marries the woman I’m supposed to marry, doesn’t that make his claim to the throne more legitimate?” Geza asked cannily.
Surah stared at him. “What in the hell are you up to?”
The Prince snarled, narrow dark eyes glinting with temper. “Goddamnit! I can’t stand that female. She’s so…quiet. Boring.”
“Please don’t tell me you said that to her face, in front of her father and the Council.” The silence was all the reply Surah needed. “Geza, you can’t do things like that. It’s why people are trying to kick you off the throne. They think you’re too immature, unstable. This marriage is the thing you need to prove that you have some potential to behave like an adult.”
“I’ll marry,” he replied, jerking a shoulder in a half shrug. “Just not someone they choose for me. I’ll choose my own bride.”
“Let me know how that worked out for you once Malin is on the throne.”
“Are you supporting him against me?”
“I’m not involved in this at all. It’s between the two of you. I’ve said that before, and I’ll keep saying it. Work it out.”
“He won’t talk to me.” Geza’s mouth turned down. It was little disconcerting that a powerful, handsome warrior could still pout like a little boy. She bet his ladies adored it. At least for a while.
“Maybe because the last time you spoke you threatened to pin his wings to the wall of the throne hall.”
“He threatened to cut off my fingers if a Mogren went after you again! And that was after he stole you from your rightful betrothed. Do you have any idea the concessions I’m being hammered with because of the insult?”
Surah snorted. “Geza–grow up. I’m not asking Malin to marry another female.” She disconnected the call before her brother could say anything else, carefully pushed the cell out of the way, and proceeded to bang her head against the desk.
It felt good.
“Surah?”
She lifted her head from the desk, grimacing as she discreetly swiped moisture from the side of her mouth. She met Malin’s knowing dark eyes. He stood in the threshold of her office in human form. Surah’s heart skipped one painful beat, then resumed. Despite the male’s exotic beauty, olive-gold skin satiny over sculpted muscles, slashing facial bones contrasting with a sensual mouth and nearly shoulder length dark hair, Surah hated that it was displayed only in human form.
It was night. He should have stood before Surah in the pearlescent-gray skin, gleaming fangs and magnificent wings of his species. But until she and Cole perfected the serum he would be confined to land forever to avoid enduring excruciating pain.
Pain that was Surah’s fault.
Oh, intellectually, Surah knew she hadn’t caused it–but her continual failures in the lab haunted her. She ignored the fact that research of this kind generally took years, decades. She wasn’t a genius with an unlimited budget of nothing.
“It’s late,” Malin said softly, deep voice a smooth rumble filling the room. He took a step in and the office shrank, eclipsed by the sheer presence of the Prince.
“I work better at night,” Surah replied.
“Of course. You’re half-gargoyle. But you still seem tired, Surah.”
She rose, moving her shoulders and flexing her fingers. Several hours at her laptop every day–she credited her gargoyle genes with the fact she didn’t have carpal tunnel yet.
“I didn’t sleep last night,” she said, giving her mate a long, half-leering look.
Malin smiled. “Then you shall sleep tonight.”
“What? That wasn’t what I meant.”
He laughed, a rich sound of amusement wrapping around Surah and moving under her skin, both comfort and desire. Her body clenched, as usual, just the sound of his laughter enough to perk it up.
“No?” Malin stepped closer, coming around the desk to brush up against Surah, who turned to meet him. They stood, chest to chest, Malin’s strong fingers rising to cup Surah’s cheek, caressing a cheekbone with his thumb.
“No,” Surah replied firmly. “I can sleep after.”
Malin lowered his head, apple-scented breath caressing Surah’s lips. His fingers slid around to the back of her neck, grip tightening, angling her head, just slightly, so her lips were just so when he kissed her.
A deep, dragging kiss, unhurried with a confidence born of knowledge. Malin knew every inch of Surah’s body, had spent nights analyzing her weaknesses, her responses. Slowly breaking down every drop of resistance. He enveloped her, and she struggled to remember she was a person separate from him. Struggled to care.
“Are you done for the evening?” Malin murmured against her mouth.
Surah opened beneath him in response, her tongue sliding into Malin’s mouth, exploring and suckling. Her hands slid around his back, enjoying the feel of hard muscle flexing under her fingers. Her touch slid lower until she cupped his firm ass, squeezing flesh and pulling the male even closer.
Malin took control of the kiss, shifting from languorous to demanding lover between one breath and the next. Fiercely dominant, bred to rule, it was a constant struggle for Surah to hold her own against the force of Malin’s personality. But at least she’d had years of planting her feet and dealing with Malin as an older brother figure. The practice stood her in good stead now.
Her clit throbbed, body awake and demanding satisfaction. Malin’s free hand plucked at the hem of her knit blouse, delving underneath to cup her lace covered breast. Surah shuddered; she would never be used to the feel of Malin’s hands on her. Never.
Malin plucked her nipple, tugging the small bud so Surah gasped, inhaling sharply. Damn it. “We can’t do this here,” Surah said, frustrated.
“No?” Malin purred. “Why not?”
“There could still be grad students wandering around.”
“I ordered everyone out.”
She paused, eyes narrowing. She wasn’t entirely sure she liked that. Malin, though a Prince, was not the boss around here. Surah was. No one bossed her grads but her.
Evidently, they’d have to have a little talk about that.
But there were other things on her mind right now. Surah felt behind her, having the presence of mind to grasp the edge of her laptop, and place it into the desk drawer. Malin was known to just clear a table in one swoop when in the mood–Surah really didn’t feel like losing the data on her personal machine right now; she hadn’t had time to run her nightly backup.
“Lana,” she said in a strangled voice. “Are all persons besides Malin and Surah exited from the building?”
The disembodied voice popped into the air. “All personnel has vacate the premises. Would you like to commence nightly lock down?”
“No, wait for my command. We’ll be here for a few more minutes.”
Heat flared in Malin’s eyes; an amused smile. She braced herself for the rest of the items–reports, pencils and such–to go crashing to the floor, and her mate didn’t disappoint.
“I think you just like to make a mess,” Surah said.
Malin grinned, showing white teeth gone sharp. A sign his gargoyle nature was rising in response to passion. He wouldn’t shift without conscious effort–but small things like teeth and the way his skin darkened slightly, shoulders broadening, cock thickening past the norm for a merely human male, made Malin’s heritage known to anyone who recognized the signs.
He lifted her onto the desk, Surah catching her fall on her elbows, already kicking off her flats because she knew what was coming next.
He peeled her clothing from her body, leaving Surah exposed, her nether lips plump and pink. “We haven’t fucked in your office yet,” Malin murmured, slipping fingers inside her.
Surah’s head fell back; she hissed through her teeth. The pressure, the heat of the Prince’s fingers inside, stroking in and out with a deliberate intent to torment, incite–her breasts tightened, throat drying. Malin lowered to his knees, face burying between her thighs so he could lick and taste her bud.
Hi
s tongue lapped Surah’s clit, flicking her flesh with fast, practiced motions. She felt nearly ready to burst, hovering at a precipice just waiting to be pushed over. When Malin slid a third finger inside her pussy, stretching her, finding the spot just under her pelvic bone, Surah cried out, struggling to keep her moans low and controlled rather than high and wild. She wasn’t entirely successful from the cat like grin on Malin’s face.
“That’s right, baby, scream for me.” His hands slid up her thighs, fastened around her waist. “Let the court spies hear how well I please you.”
Surah climaxed, wetness coating Malin’s lips as his long, dark hair brushed against Surah’s bare thigh. It rippled through her, pleasure and wonder that they were here, together, doing this. Making love. Finally free to love each other as they’d both wished for so long.
Malin straightened slowly, eyes trained on Surah, wiping a hand across his mouth. “What next?” she asked.
She struggled to breathe, her lover’s eyes piercing her with their intensity. She secretly felt as if she were getting the best of both worlds. Malin unsnapped his pants and withdrew his cock, a lovely steel monstrosity she knew from experience could bring both pain and pleasure. The mushroom tip nudged her pussy. Surah drew her legs up to her chest, opening wide. Malin shifted slightly, spreading her labia, then bent down once again, running his tongue along her pussy.
“Fuck me, Malin,” Surah said, voice husky. “Enough with the preliminaries.”
Malin’s long eyes glinted. “I enjoy the preliminaries, Princess.”
“Fun’s fun, Mal. Get a move on.”
Malin’s cock nudged Surah’s entrance as their eyes caught, held. The soft, spongy tip slowly pressed into her pussy, slick skin and hard cock forcing Surah wide, an inch at a time. She stifled a gasp, craving the full feeling of Malin inside her.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Malin asked.
“No–just. No. God.”
He surged inside her, abandoning all pretense at gentleness. Surah cried out, head falling back, senses hyper aware and zeroing in on the feel of her body adjusting to Malin, welcoming him inside until the gargoyle’s balls were pressed against her ass. She breathed, arms trembling as they always did. She was half gargoyle, but only half. How did the human girlfriends manage to accept males this big without tearing? Every time he entered her, it was like the first time.
Malin drew out. “Look at me, Surah.”
Lifting her head, she met Malin’s eyes again. It was a peculiarity of Malin’s, always wanting to watch the thoughts, the expressions in her eyes as they made love. She secretly thought it was a sign of insecurity, but time would take care of that. And she didn’t really want Malin to take her for granted, anyway.
“How does it feel?” the Prince asked, sliding back in. With each smooth thrust, Surah’s body adjusted just a bit more until she was fully open, accepting her lover’s increasingly hard thrusts.
Surah couldn’t quite frame a sentence, lost in the feel of heated steel rhythmically pressing against her spot. She licked dry lips, and still couldn’t speak. Malin smiled, slow and dark, an expression of utter male satisfaction. The dominance thrilled Surah, increasing the eroticism of being trapped beneath a male with Malin’s virility, beauty, power.
Malin’s hips ground inside Surah. Her fingers found her clit, stroking herself as he fucked her. It built slowly this time. Sometimes she peaked quickly, an explosion that wrenched the breath from her throat and left her boneless. Other times, like this, her body taunted her, prolonging the pleasure agony before giving release.
“Malin, harder,” Surah said, tone turning savage. She nearly writhed underneath the gargoyle, wanting more–needing more.
Malin fucked her with renewed intensity, shedding a bit more control, forgoing a bit more worry that he might hurt the half-human. Surah craved the day her lover would take her with all the strength of a Prince—and hoped she wouldn’t be torn and bleeding at the end of it.
The orgasm rippled through her as Malin cried out, hot cum filling Surah’s pussy. Looking into Malin’s dark eyes, for a brief, startling moment she hoped the seed caught, that she would give him a garling. Malin braced a hand on the desk, breath harsh. Surah allowed her legs to relax as the Prince pulled out of her, Malin dragging Surah to her feet and kissing her.
“Let’s shower, and then go home,” the gargoyle said. “I’m starving.”
11
Malin knew something was bothering his doctor. Surah wasn’t necessarily a chatty woman, but she generally wasn’t this quiet, or broody. Darkness lurked in the back of her eyes when she glanced at Malin over the dinner table. They’d taken to eating on the balcony outside their bedroom suite, overlooking gardens in the back of the house rather than in the dining room or study. From this vantage, the view of the setting sun was beautiful. The Prince couldn’t take it any longer and set aside his fork.
“Surah, what’s wrong?” He cut off the start of her denial. “Don’t lie to me. I know something is wrong. Tell me.”
Surah fixed him with a glare, eyes dark under tousled bangs–not quite the true brown of a full-blooded gargoyle, but close. A slight curl further proclaimed her half-human heritage.
“Our brother is up to mischief, is what’s wrong,” Surah replied.
Malin relaxed. Was that it? Geza was always a problem. From the time he could walk he’d driven his two older siblings mad with his scheming and pouting—and occasional flashes of protective temper or genius. Enough that Malin, even now, had some hope the young man wasn’t a total waste. But Geza might be running out of time.
“What did he do this time?” Malin’s eyes narrowed, instincts perking, as she gave him a long, measuring look. “Surah?”
“He wants me to convince you to take a second wife.”
Malin stared at her. “That makes no sense.” Especially since he hadn’t yet technically married his first. He’d been wanting to broach the subject of wedding plans with her, but always held back, wanting to wait for one of the few times–other than during sex–when she wasn’t tense and worried about him. He was tired of her worrying about him. He was a warrior, and had decades on her in age. She shouldn’t be worrying about him, it should be the other way around.
Surah stabbed a spear of asparagus with her fork. Malin’s chef had learned to become creative with vegetables in a hurry–Surah, though not quite vegetarian, displayed a marked lack of enthusiasm for meat. Malin didn’t recall her always being like that, but then, one ate what was presented at the Prince’s table without complaint–or one didn’t eat. Maybe for more than one meal, if Ciodaru was so inclined.
“It makes perfect sense,” she said, then set the asparagus aside, eyeing his steak. “He gets to test your loyalty and rid himself of an unwanted bride at the same time.”
Malin frowned, cut a small piece of his meat and put it on her plate, watching as she snatched it up. “Geza knows I wouldn’t wed. Since when do you eat meat?”
She sniffed, chewing. “This was just an opening salvo. A way to test the waters to see how vehement a reaction he’s going to get. Geza is undisciplined and selfish–he isn’t stupid. And I just have a taste for it tonight. I should do a blood workup–I might be missing some B vitamins.”
“No, he isn’t stupid. So he must think he has some way to encourage compliance. Take a multivitamin, Surah.” His voice deepened. “Maybe I should let you rest tonight.”
Surah blushed, avoiding his eyes, and stood. “I need a drink.”
Malin rose, tossing aside his napkin, rounding the small table to take her shoulders in his hands. “Then we’ll have a drink, a shower, and we’ll retire for the evening.”
“You’re a gargoyle; you don’t want to go to bed in the middle of the night.”
“No, but like you, I’ve learned to keep a human sleep cycle. You’ve been working hard, rest tonight.”
Surah tugged her hair. “I should really spend a few more hours going through—”
“Please.”<
br />
She sighed. “All right. Rest. Tonight.”
Surah was gone by the time Malin awoke the next morning. Well, by the time Malin came back from his study. He’d spent the majority of the evening holding his sleeping mate before leaving in the early hours of morning to continue his own work. The pills he took to control his seizures, along with the serum to delay the degeneration of his body and control pain, combined to make for some sleepless nights. One of the many side effects that disturbed Surah–so Malin didn’t talk about it. He knew the doctor had enough on her mind.
Malin dressed, taking his mug of black coffee on the balcony where they’d eaten the previous night. He glanced up as a shadow of wings flew into the path of the sun. A rush of wind and Nikolau coasted to the ground in front of the house, lifting a hand to greet Malin. Malin nodded, moving back inside to finish dressing so by the time his servant knocked on his door, Malin was already opening it.
“I know. He’s in the lower level parlor?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.”
The lower level parlor was reserved for unexpected guests, empty but for minimal furniture and a few books on a shelf for entertainment. When Malin entered, the drapes were pulled and more coffee set out on the table in front of Nikolau, who sprawled on the low-backed couch designed for wings, sipping from a dainty mug.
His friend rose when Malin entered, the Prince waving him back to his seat.
“Nikolau. It’s late.”
He grunted. “Awful hour of the day–so I figured you’d be up.” It was the kind of backhanded insult Malin had learned to ignore on the training field. Nikolau, unlike some, wasn’t one to raise his voice. He preferred to deliver his condemnations in a mild tone that cut all the more for its lack of anger.
“You didn’t come to chat.”
“No.” Nikolau drained his coffee, set the mug down on the table. “Have you thought about what Kausar asked?”
Malin stared at him, impassive. “Without some significant pretext, I find myself strangely unwilling to depose the brother I helped raise.”
Summer Shifter Nights Page 15