His gaze followed the armour as it peeled upwards from her feet, the gold in his irises brightening as he devoured every inch of flesh that was revealed to him. His perusal became almost leisurely as the armour cleared her thighs and swept up her stomach towards her breasts. His smile disappeared and he studied her, the intensity of his gaze eliciting a shiver as she lay before him, naked and exposed.
He ran a hand down his mouth, revealing a hint of fangs.
“Gods… you are incredible.”
Iolanthe’s eyes widened and she wasn’t sure how to respond to that. A blush climbed her cheeks. His smile returned, reaching his eyes. Her reaction had pleased him again. Before she could issue a compliment of her own, he dropped onto all fours and kissed her.
She arched towards him and clutched his shoulders as she kissed him, wanting to feel their bare flesh pressed together. She wanted to know the warmth of his golden skin. He resisted as she tried to pull him down to her, his back tensing as he braced himself above her. She unleashed a noise born of frustration and he chuckled, the rich warm sound increasing the heat inside her, until she was burning with need, on fire with desire that felt as if it would consume her if she didn’t find release soon.
Kyter dropped his head to her chest and she melted beneath him, sinking into the soft bed as he kissed around her left breast and teased her other one with his hand. He pinched her nipple and she gasped, the sound filling the heavy silence. He chuckled again and swirled his tongue around her other nipple before pulling it into his mouth. She moaned this time and clutched his shoulders, pressing her fingertips into his corded muscles as she writhed beneath him.
She needed more.
She needed all of him.
He had to know that. He had to be able to sense her need just as she could sense his. Her male hungered. He ached for her. She wanted to satisfy that hunger. She wanted to give him the release he needed.
He rubbed his cheek across her breasts, the action reminding her that he was a shifter. A beautiful, powerful jaguar.
Just as she thought that, fur rippled across his shoulders, as soft as thick velvet beneath her fingers. She followed the intricate pattern of one of his black rosettes, tracing the longer thick dashes that encased a series of dots before it disappeared. Beautiful.
He groaned and shuddered beneath her caress and she didn’t stop as his golden skin re-emerged. She stroked his powerful shoulders, feeling his muscles as they flexed and bunched with each of his movements as he kissed down her stomach.
Iolanthe looked down the length of her body to him, drinking in the sight of him as he worshipped her stomach. Her powerful male.
He lifted his gaze to meet hers, looking through his dark lashes, his eyes pure molten gold. They turned hooded and he dropped his lips, kissing her stomach while holding her gaze, keeping her focus locked on him and what he was doing. It heightened her awareness of him and her arousal soared in response, her need for him flaring hotter. She shivered as he watched her, slowly working downwards, a predatory glint to his eyes.
Those eyes promised wild passion and wicked pleasure, everything she needed and craved from him. They promised that he wouldn’t stop until they had both found release.
He was going to devour her.
Gods, she wanted him to devour her.
He slipped his hands over her bare thighs, looked down as he spread them, and then locked eyes with her again. She bit back the moan that tried to escape her lips and breathed harder as he slowly lowered his mouth towards her. His hands skimmed upwards and her belly fluttered as his thumbs stroked her plush petals.
“Kyter,” she murmured, desperate for him to know that she needed him. She needed her male. She feared he wouldn’t keep his sultry promise and would stop and that deep need of him would consume her.
He narrowed his eyes on hers and then lowered them to the neat dark thatch of curls at the apex of her thighs and closed them as he dipped his head.
Iolanthe cried out with the first stroke of his tongue over her aroused nub, her hands darting to clutch his head, mussing his sandy hair even further. She arched off the bed and he groaned against her, the sound reverberating through her most sensitive place, eliciting another moan and shiver of pleasure from her. He grasped her thighs and spread her further, wedging his broad shoulders between them.
She surrendered to him, unable to do anything but feel and moan as he caressed her and swirled his tongue around her clitoris. She burned at a thousand degrees, each teasing flick of his tongue cranking her temperature higher, until she felt certain she would turn to ashes in his hands.
He growled and suckled her nub, the flicker of pain only enhancing her pleasure. She needed more. She rocked against him, her hips moving of their own accord, and he grasped them, forcing her to stop, holding her immobile. A prisoner of his wicked tongue.
It teased and tortured her, swirling and flicking, lapping lower. She raised her hips again, showing him what she needed from him. He groaned and she gasped as his fingers stroked down her and he probed her entrance, teasing her before withdrawing.
“Kyter,” she husked, wriggling her hips and rocking against his face.
He teased her again, giving her a brief feel of two fingers before taking them away.
She unleashed a frustrated growl and twisted his hair in her hands, eliciting a deep grunt from him.
And his compliance.
She moaned as he eased two fingers into her sheath, pressing them in deep, and sagged against the bed, her hands relaxing in his hair, as he began to pump her with them. He swirled his tongue around her nub in time with each invasion of his fingers, each deep thrust that sent her spiralling higher towards release. She could almost reach it.
Her hips flexed, an action she had no control over as her arousal reached a crescendo, the point at which she ceased to have the ability to think or do anything other than feel. He grunted and stroked her harder, pumping faster, sending her soaring.
Iolanthe tipped her head back and cried out as the tightness in her belly detonated. Fire seared through her veins and lit her up inside. Fierce hot tingles swept over her stomach and thighs as she quivered, her body flexing around his fingers as they stilled inside her. His hot breath skated across her sensitive flesh and she trembled.
Kyter withdrew his fingers from her and she lay in a daze, drifting on a warm heavenly sea.
She became dimly aware of the bed depressing as he moved and the rustle of material. She felt the flow of his heat and his hunger in her veins, an awareness of him that ran deep, etched in her bones forever. Her mate.
Iolanthe slowly lifted her eyelids, her desire rising again, burning hotter than ever when she took in the magnificent sight of her mate kneeling between her spread thighs, naked and hard, primed for her.
He locked eyes with her and she reached for him, crooking her finger to lure him down to her. Her male needed. He hungered.
She would give him what he needed.
Everything he desired.
He prowled up the length of her, settled his weight on his right elbow, pressing his chest to hers, and clutched his rigid length in his other hand. He ran the crown of it down her slick centre and held it poised at her entrance.
His eyes held hers. Mesmerising. Molten gold.
His sensual lips parted.
His fangs flashed between them as he spoke.
“You will be mine now.”
Iolanthe jerked awake, her heart thundering and sweat trickling down her back and between her bare breasts. She threw the violet covers off her with trembling hands and struggled to steady her breathing as she stared around the cluttered small studio apartment, slowly realising that it hadn’t been real. A dream. She had dreamed of Kyter.
She growled, baring her fangs.
She wasn’t angry about the dream. That had been delicious enough, nothing more than a harmless fantasy. She was angry because Kyter had even managed to ruin that dream. She couldn’t even fantasise about him without him trying t
o claim her as his mate.
She shoved to the edge of the bed and froze, her hands clutching the mattress on either side of her thighs.
She had kissed him at the ruins and she had tasted his blood.
Her heart picked up again, a sickening rapid beat in her veins. She hadn’t bitten him though. She pressed her hand to her chest, recalling that she had felt linked to him in her dream, and focused through her fear. Nothing. She had none of the other side effects of an incomplete bond. She wasn’t feeling his emotions or pain, and she wasn’t weaker than normal.
Iolanthe sucked down a deep breath and expelled it slowly, bringing her racing heart back under control and shutting down her fears.
She hadn’t triggered the bonding process when she had kissed him. She was being ridiculous. It required her to bite him and consume a quantity of his blood, not merely taste it in a kiss.
The dream had been just a fantasy then.
She flopped back onto the bed and sighed.
It didn’t make her feel any better.
She was having erotic dreams about him. No good would come of that. Her control around him was already shaky enough. With the dream of him pleasuring her rolling around in her head, she would be lucky to survive another encounter with him without succumbing to her attraction to him.
She threw her left arm over her eyes and groaned. What had he done to her?
She had lived for millennia without a male affecting her to one tenth of the degree that Kyter did. The irritating male wreaked havoc on her control with just a stupid smile. She huffed and let her arm fall above her head, and toyed with the damp strands of her blue-black hair, struggling to formulate a plan.
The only one that came to her was avoiding him.
If she could avoid him, then nothing could go wrong. She could find the item Fernandez wanted, deliver it to him within the timeframe, and then she would be free to get on with her life. Everything would return to normal.
The only flaw in her plan was the part about finding the item.
She stared at the ceiling of her apartment.
She had to return to Herculaneum.
CHAPTER 12
Iolanthe’s blood churned at a low simmer, refusing to settle no matter what trick she tried. It had been steadily rolling towards a boil since she had made the decision to return to Herculaneum, building as she bathed and dressed, and eventually teleported to her current vantage point above the ruins as the first golden fingers of dawn caressed the fading night sky.
She blew out her breath and stood balanced on the metal railing that surrounded the site, looking down on the streets and buildings of the ancient city.
She told herself again that she hadn’t come back to see Kyter. She had come to investigate the fresco before the site opened for the day. That was the only reason she had returned so soon after leaving. It had nothing to do with the irritating jaguar shifter. She was going to avoid him¸ just as she had planned.
Her heart did a flip in her chest and she pretended it hadn’t happened. She couldn’t risk running into him. She wasn’t strong enough right now, not with the dream still fresh in her mind and still affecting her.
She nurtured her anger, replaying the moments when Kyter had spoken about her and looked at her as if she was a possession, not an equal to him. He wanted to enslave her. She had to remember that. It didn’t matter that she desired him. It only mattered that he wanted to own her. She couldn’t let herself be swayed by her need, because he would have a collar around her neck before she realised what had happened.
The early glow of dawn lit the sky off to her right, silhouetting Mount Vesuvius where it loomed a short distance away. The wooded slopes were dark, the nature there calling to her, luring her into forgetting her mission and taking a walk amongst the trees, absorbing the calming scent of the forest. It would soothe her ragged nerves and steady her heart, but she didn’t have time to waste.
She pulled her focus back to the site and her mission. Not Kyter. She wasn’t thinking about him. She had put him out of her head and he was going to stay there for the next thousand years. It didn’t matter that he was her fated male. Or that he was handsome, in an irritating sort of way.
Her hands danced down over her clothing before she realised what she was doing, smoothing her dark purple camisole top over the waist of her tight black trousers. She muttered a black curse and shook her hands, stopping them from executing their ridiculous task of fixing her appearance. No one was going to see her. She wasn’t here to see anyone either.
She snapped her focus to the low stone building with the fresco and darkness swallowed her, parting to reveal the entrance as she appeared in front of it.
Her pointed ears twitched.
Her heart started a slow steady thump against her breast that began to accelerate as her sensitive hearing detected the quiet masculine grunts that came in time with each ring of metal striking stone.
Iolanthe swallowed to wet her dry throat.
She needed a drink. Her sudden parched mouth had nothing to do with the annoying shifter.
Perhaps she could just walk inside and ask to borrow his canteen.
Iolanthe caught herself. What was she doing? She turned her back on the building and folded her arms across her chest. She was not going to enter the building. She would leave and return when it was dark, and hopefully Kyter would be gone.
She bit her lip, catching it with her right canine. She couldn’t leave. She didn’t want to see the jaguar male, but she didn’t have a choice. She had to go into the building and investigate the area where he worked. The one she had chosen had turned up nothing. That left her with only this one. If he found the artefact, he would take it and she would never find it.
Fernandez would take her head.
She drew in another deep breath and exhaled it slowly, fighting for calm as fear flickered through her in response to the thought of failing in her mission. She wouldn’t fail. She would get the artefact that Fernandez sought and within the time limit.
Even if she had to seduce it out of Kyter’s grasp.
Her hands trembled as she ran them over her sleek blue-black hair and she cursed the sign of weakness. She couldn’t go into the room like this, afraid and on edge. Kyter would sense it on her as he had only a few hours ago, detecting her emotions through scent and through sight.
Or touch as the case had been.
She shunned the memories that pushed to the surface, flooding her mind with an instant replay of being in Kyter’s arms, his lips claiming hers in a fierce kiss.
Irritating shifter.
It felt as if she couldn’t escape him. He was constantly in her thoughts, stealing her focus away from her mission, and had even invaded her dreams. For the first time in millennia, her emotions and physical condition was all over the place. She had spent the last hour pinging from angry to calm, and cold-as-ice to hot-as-fire, her head filled with wicked thoughts about him, and it was all his fault.
Iolanthe fisted her hands and nodded. She could be professional about this. Discovering that he was her fated male hadn’t changed anything. He was still a male on a mission to bend her to his will and get her killed in the process. She would walk into the room and see that hadn’t changed. He would probably greet her with that stupid lopsided smile of his and spout something ridiculous about knowing she would come back to him and that she was his.
She turned on her heel and stomped through the building to the large empty room where they had first met, ready for the confrontation she felt sure was coming.
And ground to a halt as he came into view, working in the centre of the area where three walls painted with the frescos she had come here to see enclosed a raised platform.
Her mouth dried out again.
The muscles of his bare back worked in a beautiful symphony as he raised her pick above his head and brought it down hard on the floor, sending pieces of stone flying in all directions. Sweat glistened on his back, highlighting every peak and valley. Her eye
s followed a single bead as it rolled down his left shoulder, tracking the line of a scar, and joined with another. They melded with more beads, until they became a rivulet that trickled down his spine, luring her gaze down to the waist of his black combat trousers and the twin dips above his buttocks.
The pointed tips of her ears grew longer, a physical response to the arousal rising swiftly within her, stirred by the sight of Kyter.
She tried to avert her gaze but he raised the pick again, the powerful muscles of his arms and shoulders bulging a second before he brought it down in another swift arc, striking the stone.
Her mate.
Her fated male.
He was glorious. Stunning. Strong. Beautiful. Dangerous. Deadly.
She didn’t want to be swayed by his allure. She couldn’t allow her desire to get the better of her, because if she did, it wouldn’t end well. Either he would steal the artefact the moment her guard was down, using her desire against her, or her client would use him as a pawn and he would end up hurt.
Or worse.
The thought of Fernandez capturing Kyter made her heart jerk in her chest, pain spreading outwards from it, rapidly becoming fury as it seeped into her veins and flowed through her blood. No. She would never allow such a thing to happen.
Kyter had been right.
This wasn’t a game.
He hefted the pick and struck again, and she viewed him with cold eyes, ones devoid of the desire that had been in them just seconds ago.
She couldn’t allow herself to fall to Kyter’s charms, becoming a victim of her desire. There was too much at risk. His life. Her life. Her freedom.
If she had wanted to shackle herself to a male, she would have stayed in the village where she had grown up and would have done as her parents had wanted—married the male they had chosen for her on her one thousandth birthday.
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