Now that he was here, she knew that belief for the mistake it was. As the leader of the Messenger Corps, she came into contact with many different werekind species. She’d often dealt with wereleopards. This one’s domestication was a thin veneer. Not a problem in and of itself. She’d known a few predator weres over the years that were barely human. But this one. This one was hers. And not at all happy about it if his expression was anything to judge by. To tell the truth, she wasn’t either, but his rejection still stung.
“Don’t like what you see that much after all, huh? Don’t worry. I don’t either.”
His eyes narrowed to angry slits as she brushed by him. It took every ounce of control she had not to reach up, soothe his brow and apologize for her angry response. She didn’t have time for a mate. If she had any sense at all, she’d shift and get out. Fly far away and wait to return until he’d left. Her body refused her mind’s orders to do so immediately. The sense of self-preservation apparently didn’t trump the lust. She was in real trouble.
She avoided looking at him as she opened the freezer and rummaged around. Her mother usually stocked it with casseroles while she was gone, and she pulled something out that might be lasagna. It was in a glass pan with a foil lid, and she put it in the oven. Turning the knob to three hundred and fifty degrees, she looked over her shoulder.
“Hungry?”
Another mistake. Nostrils flared, he stood very still and stared at her. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. For the first time she wondered if she might be in danger and felt a spike of fear. He reacted like she’d thrown cold water on him, jerking and prowling around the room. He stopped by the doors, didn’t turn around when he spoke.
“There’s no need to fear me. I won’t harm you.”
Was that hurt she heard in his voice? With his back turned she allowed herself the opportunity to really look at him. She could see his reflection in the glass and caught her breath.
He was a magnificent specimen of masculinity. Not much taller than average height, maybe a little over six feet tall, with defined muscles she itched to touch. His hair was very short, dark, almost black, as if to match the darkness she sensed in him. But his eyes were bright, grassy green. He met her gaze in the glass and held her snared. She suddenly wished she’d taken time to put more on than just a robe. As if he heard her thoughts, he let his gaze trail over the reflection of her body in the doors.
“I think I preferred you without the robe.”
His voice was low, husky with arousal. She held her breath, wondering if he’d tell her to remove it, wondering if she’d comply. The problem with being raised as the heir to a throne was you never met a man who could really take charge, who you wanted to give over control to. It could only be in bed, but it was a kind of freedom she secretly yearned for. Except his earlier rejection still rankled. It was clear from the bulge in his jeans he wanted her, so what was that about? She didn’t know what to think and fell back on cool disdain.
“I can find some clothes. No point in walking around without them. I try not to fly around inside.”
His smile was slow, a little cruel and all dominant male. “I’d just have to remove them.”
Her heart hammered, and her sex clenched in response. Her mouth was too dry to respond. He approached her, stopped close enough she could feel his chest rise and fall against hers. She stood frozen in place as he lifted his knuckles to stroke her cheek, down her neck and over her collarbone.
“How long before dinner?” he whispered.
“Um.” She gulped. Impossible to think while he stood so near. While he petted her. “An hour maybe.”
“Good.” The heat in his eyes faded a little. “Ground rules. You agree or you don’t agree. If you don’t, nothing happens between us. Understood?”
She nodded, still aroused but bemused by the sudden change in tone and conversation.
“Just two things really,” he said going back to stroking her neck. She tilted her head to give him better access and waited to hear his rules. “One, I’m in charge.”
His lips touched her skin and she gasped as he suckled it. “Whatever I say, whenever I say it.”
She didn’t know if she could go for that, but she was intrigued enough to let him go on. “And two, while I’m here, you’re mine. I don’t share.” The last ended on a growl. That was fine with her. She knew she wasn’t ever going to be able to look at another man. What gave her pause was the implication he’d go on to other women, but she forced the savage jealousy away. She didn’t want a mate after all. She had enough problems.
“Oh…” His teeth nipped at the vein pulsing in her neck. “Okay.”
Hands moving to grip her hips, he straightened to his full height, looked down into her upturned face. He nodded, but he didn’t smile as he reached for the tie on her robe, face hard and possessive. Her heart skittered. Maybe this was a mistake, but it was too late to change her mind. She didn’t deny the need in her. Couldn’t even if she wanted to. Her nipples were hard, her pussy wet.
He spread the lapels of the robe open, let it slide slowly off her shoulders. It dropped to the floor, and his hands circled her wrists like manacles and pulled them behind her back where he held them in one hand. He backed her up till her butt hit the counter, and then he just stared down at her. The gaze was so hot, so carnal and full of need her legs shook. He leaned forward slowly, and she closed her eyes when his mouth was just an inch from her nipple. Anticipation rushed through her. She wanted his mouth, his teeth, his cock. The need consumed her. Overwhelmed the protesting voice in her head. She waited and nothing happened. Opening her eyes, she saw him standing tall again, frowning down at her. He released her and reached for her robe on the floor, pulling the belt free of the loops. He jerked his head towards the table.
“Lay down.”
She almost protested, but remembered his rules. She chafed under them, but wanted him too much to refuse. Walking over, she sat down and lay back watching as he prowled the kitchen and found a knife. He held the belt so the ends were equal then sliced it with the knife. She gasped and went to sit up. Damn it. That was her favorite robe. One look at his face held her in place though. He wasn’t going to brook any kind of defiance.
It was a small table, round and made only for two. Her torso barely fit on it and her ass was dangerously close to the edge. He stalked closer, the ends of the robe tie held in one hand as he trailed his fingertips from one hipbone to her shoulder. He traced them over her face, lightly, the touch sensuous and promising, before taking one wrist gently in his and pulling it down towards the floor. He tied it to the table leg then repeated the action with the other arm. She was breathing hard by the time he finished. She’d never been tied down. She felt her wings struggling for freedom while she fought for calm. He stood back and watched her a moment before ripping his shirt over his head.
“You’re unaccustomed to being restrained.”
She nodded, more a jerk, and focused on the muscles rippling across his torso. He spoke softly, but there was no denying the menace under his tone.
“Answer me, Ajax.”
She lifted her gaze to his face, felt a measure of relief at the stark control stamped across his features. “Yes. I am.”
He unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. Pushed them down over his hips. He wasn’t wearing underwear and his cock sprang free, erect and long and hard. She took a long deep breath, licked dry lips. He stepped closer and ran a hand through her hair.
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered. “I’d never hurt you.”
He wrapped his hand around his erection, stroked it slowly up and down while she watched. She wanted to taste him, wanted to know if he tasted as good as he smelled. All masculine and woodsy. Primitive and tempting. He was the ultimate bad boy. Hers if she was willing to take him.
He stepped closer to her, a bare inch from her mouth and she darted her tongue out. Caressed the tip before he groaned and moved closer, letting her take some of him into her mouth. She
suckled, moaning at the salty tang of him, at the width and steel in him. He rotated his hips, lodged himself deeper and deeper, faster and faster until he hit the back of her throat. She felt his control slipping and reveled in it. Then he pulled back, popping free of her mouth. He glared at her, and she glared back. The look said she’d done something wrong. What the hell could that be? She was tied to the damn table. She pulled at the bonds, suddenly sick of the game and wanting to be free. He moved to the other end of the table, gripped her hips and held her still as he knelt down.
“Oh no, baby. You agreed.”
The table was so small her ass was right at the edge. He slid his hands down and in, traced the creases between her thighs and sex as he did. His touch was gentle, undemanding as he moved inwards, spreading the lips of her pussy to his gaze. She groaned, embarrassed and turned on at the wanton sight she knew she made.
When he leaned forward and licked her, the groan became something else. He took his time, avoiding her clit as he explored her, tasted her. He pushed his tongue into her pussy, and she bucked against him. Her temperature spiked impossibly high, her heart pounded as if she’d run a marathon. Frustration and lust raged through her. She was so wound up it would take nothing to make her come, yet he held her back.
Nico had no idea where his control was coming from. Her taste was perfect. Ambrosia. She drugged his senses. He felt the lust and need coming off of her in waves, wanted to fuck her until she forgot her name, until it didn’t occur to her to do anything but to submit to his every whim. But the leopard in him wanted something else. It wanted to possess, to own her heart and mind, body and soul. Wanted to cherish. Wanted to protect. It wasn’t like him at all, but he couldn’t fight the dual urges.
Knowing he couldn’t wait much longer, he found her clit with his tongue. Flicked it and enjoyed her loud moans, enjoyed her pleasure before inserting one finger into her cunt. Then two. His reward was immediate. She cried out as she came, thrusting hard against his hand, her cream sweet and wet and warm on his tongue. He stood on unsteady feet and moved between her legs, gripping her knees and holding them high as he thrust into her.
Dear God, she was going to kill him. She was tight and almost blistering hot, convulsing around him in orgasm as she came again. It felt too damned good not to make it last. He slowed and gentled his thrusts, leaned forward to suck one pert nipple between his lips. As soon as he tasted her, his incisors lengthened and he had to fight the leopard from biting, from claiming and marking her. He forced the sharp points to retract, forced instinct under control. Recognizing the danger they were both in, he lifted his lips, increased the depth and speed of his thrusts and let the orgasm rush through him.
As it broke over him, he couldn’t fight the animal in him. His fangs broke free, found the gentle slope of her breast and pierced her tender skin. The taste of her blood exploded over his tongue and something shifted inside him. Something primitive, primal. She was his. Irrevocably and forever. He’d known it and hadn’t wanted to admit it when he’d seen her on the trail, but now it was a fact neither of them could escape.
He collapsed over her, sucking in deep breaths. Taking in her scent, their combined scents and sex. Trying to reconcile what he’d just done with what he’d always promised himself he wouldn’t do. Reminding himself he’d come here to find out what happened to his father not get wrapped up with a woman.
When he regained some semblance of control he rose on his elbows and studied her. She was still breathing fast and deeply, her eyes closed with a small smile on her face. He lifted his fingers to the side of her face, tracing the high cheekbones. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. Calm and reserved again. It pissed him off. What right did she have to control when he was in so much turmoil? Her expression changed under his glare. Softened, soothed.
“Will you let me up now?”
It was a softly spoken request, but he didn’t miss the command underlying her tone. She was used to being obeyed. He cocked an eyebrow as he stood. She wasn’t going to get a pliable mate in him. He moved around the table. Leaned over to flick his tongue over one nipple. It pebbled with the contact.
“I think I prefer you like this. At my mercy.”
He sucked the nipple into his mouth, biting a little. She moaned and arched up into the caress of his mouth. His eyes closed. So responsive. So perfect. So his. He let the hard nub pop free from his lips and studied her straining body. He hadn’t put her in the most comfortable position, but she hadn’t complained. He knew her arms had to be sore by now. Reluctantly he released her, rubbing each shoulder as he did. He’d make it up to her later. She lifted her arms and sat up slowly, watching him as her hand rose to his bite on her breast. She sighed.
“The last thing I need right now is a mate.”
It was like a slap in the face, never mind he’d been thinking something similar. It had never occurred to him he’d be rejected by his mate. The two sides of his nature warred over a response. The human half agreed wholeheartedly, but the animal half, the leopard, was furious in a way only cats seemed capable of. It paced just under his skin while Nico struggled for control. It wasn’t until he smelled the slight tang of blood in the air that he realized his claws had burst from his fingertips and cut his palms. Ajax took a step away from him, her fear suddenly a cloying, heavy smell between them, finally causing the leopard to settle down.
Nico knew it was only temporary, but he heaved a sigh of relief at the reprieve. His leopard side was always close to the surface and damned near impossible to fight. He usually saw no reason to, usually didn’t bother, but her fear was like claws raking across his chest. It hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced. And it was an insult. He may be barely tame, but he’d never hurt his mate. His growl was low, just this side of audible but she heard it.
“Your fear is fucking offensive.”
She took a deep breath and the scent receded. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m new to this.”
Reaching down, she picked up the robe and pulled it on then leaned back against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. The posture was defensive, but her expression was that same earlier mask he’d seen. Calm. Remote. He might prefer her being afraid to hiding behind this composed woman. He had to move before he did something drastic to effect that change. She cocked an eyebrow and watched him as he paced around the open kitchen and living room.
After a moment she straightened and disappeared down a hall. He heard water running shortly after and ground his teeth against the sudden need that surged through his body as he imagined her standing under it, imagined it caressing all her lush curves and secret places. Lucky water. He wanted to go to her, but held himself back. Held the leopard back with the promise of a run, with the reminder they should make sure the area was secure. Still nude, he opened the doors he’d come in through and pulled them tightly shut behind him. Then he shifted, letting his cat side take over, and took to the trees.
Deep inside the cat, the man looked around in wonder, knew this was his natural habitat. Leopards were meant to live high above the ground, to live in jungle and forest, not desert despite how long his family had been in Arizona or how much he liked it. The land didn’t sing to him the way this place did.
It didn’t hurt that her scent was everywhere. When it started to fade, he turned and hunted until it was strong again. Naturally, he stayed near her home until he discovered the paths. Her scent was strong on two of them, leading in opposite directions. He followed one to its destination, another house a few hundred yards away. She obviously spent a lot of time in the house, and the leopard growled its disapproval. No one had the right to compete with it for her attention. But then another smell came to him, and he lifted his nostrils, edged closer down the length of the branch it rested on, tested the scent, the familiarity. Family. Whoever lived in the house was a relative, and female, judging by the sweet benign flavor that coated his tongue. He turned away, knowing the woman in there probably wasn’t a threat to his mate.
She was dressed when he stepped back into the house, once again facing away from him and towards the counter. He growled his displeasure when he stepped up behind her, but this time she didn’t flinch and no fear wafted through the air. Good. She was learning. Still the clothes had to go. He was already hard and heavy. He hadn’t put on his clothes upon his return, and he pushed his hips into her buttocks, nuzzled her neck. He was rewarded with a rush of sensation. His own body’s response. Hers. Her pulse kicked under his lips, and her arousal was a heady scent in the air.
“Dinner,” she whispered as she rocked back into him, grinding her ass against his erection. His teeth closed over the soft shell of her ear and bit. She yelped, and he stepped back, allowing her to turn around with two plates in her hands. She stepped around him, walked the short distance to the table and set them down. He sighed. She was all the nourishment his body craved, but for once the cat lifting his nose to air disagreed. She grabbed two forks from a utensil drawer, and he followed her to the table. The cat might be right. The lasagna did smell incredible, but she’d forgotten something.
“Drinks?”
Renegade Passions: Forbidden Passions, Book 4 Page 2