“I cannot resist you,” he said, the trickle of his lyrical accent thickening to a river. “I can’t hold out any longer.”
“Then don’t,” she said.
He pulled back, eyes narrowed, teeth bared in a feral expression that almost frightened her. His hands gripped her waist, tension in him as if he were struggling with whether to push her away or pull her closer.
“Andrew… don’t resist,” she said, placing her hands on either side of his face. “I want this. Please.”
“Be certain, Hannah. There is no going back.”
“I’m certain.” She smiled at him.
He closed his eyes, as if pained. But before she knew it, Hannah found herself scooped into his arms. She felt so tiny against his broad chest. Until that moment, she’d barely noticed his unusual height, though she had certainly appreciated his muscular form. Andrew laid her on her bed, fingers trailing over her arms as if she was something precious as he drew away. She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, movements spare and deliberate. He held her eyes, giving her time to change her mind.
Hannah sat up, pushed his hands away. “Let me do it.”
Her fingers trembled a little, but she got the shirt unbuttoned, pushing aside cloth with a boldness she hadn’t known was in her, exposing a pale, sculpted chest, strong arms with biceps she wouldn’t be able to wrap hands around. Pale, and perfect. She laid her hand over his pecks, taking in the contrast of their coloring.
“You’re like the Ice King in the mountain,” she said, caressing him. “So pale.”
Gold underneath the pale, and the faint shadow of blue veins. At the word ‘king’ his body flexed, muscles tensing under her hand. She glanced up. His head lowered, dark hair obscuring his face.
“If I am the Ice King,” he said, voice deep and rich like molasses, “then you are my Sun Queen, mistress of ancient desert sands. I will drape you in gold and lapis lazuli, and cover you in silks.”
She smiled at his fanciful words, delivered with a small smile despite the intense, dark heat of his eyes. She was browner than modern day Egyptians, more Ethiopian than Arab, even with her long curls.
Her fingers hovered over the button of his trousers for a moment before slowing unzipping, pushing the cloth down his hips. He wore silk underneath, his erection unfettered.
She hesitated, heat in her cheeks. “You’ll tell me what you like?”
His brow rose. “My Queen, this night is for you. Your pleasure is my pleasure.” Andrew pushed her down onto her back, lips hovering overs hers. “Your breath is my breath.” He placed a hand over her heart, his touch burning through her skin. “Your heart is my heart. Don’t you know you’re everything to me?”
She stared up into jewel bright eyes, and was lost.
He plucked at the strap of her camisole, peeling cloth down her body. She took a moment to worry about the utilitarian undergarments she wore- a support sports bra and seamless cotton panties, both in boring black. And, God, she hadn’t even showered. She opened her mouth, about to suggest a recess, when his warning look silenced her. He pulled the camisole down her body, taking jogging pants and leggings with it, leaving her bare to his gaze except for her still bound breasts.
“Open your legs for me,” he said, eyes darkening to midnight.
Hannah opened her legs, slowly, revealing secret flesh, beckoning with silent sensuality. Her back arched, just a little, and his gaze flicked back up her body.
“The bra.”
She obeyed, sitting up to pull the tight elastic band over her head, allowing her full breasts to spill free. Full, plenty for his hands to cup and knead. She hissed, nipples hardening under the caress of his fingers. His mouth fastened on puckered flesh, suckling, nipping. Biting. The worship sent tiny pulses of electricity to the place between her legs she’d only learned about in books. Had only touched in secret, in the deep of night.
The possessiveness in his stare shivered up her spine. There was a hardness to his look that made him dangerous and seductive. As if something primal lurked under the surface, ready to pounce. To devour. He wrapped an arm around her back as her bones gave out, lowering her back down to the bed.
“You’ll remember this night when we’re old and gray,” he said, kissing up her throat. He paused where her vein fluttered in time to her heart, teeth scraping. “First, I’m going to lick your pussy.”
“Andrew!” His explicit words shocked her, bringing heat to her cheats, ironically, even when his foreplay hadn’t. White teeth flashed.
“What?” he purred. “Pussy. You have one, sweet.” He took her hand, led it down her body, placing her fingers over her nub. Watched her face as he guided her. “Say it. Pussy.”
Her lips pursed. Absolutely not.
In a quick movement he pulled her to the edge of the bed, swinging her around so her hips dangled over. He knelt beneath her, mussed hair over brilliant eyes, a wicked grin on his face. Her legs draped over his shoulders, his smile too close… to that place.
“If you don’t say it, I’m going to lick you until you scream,” he said. “And I’m sure you don’t want the neighbors to hear you. But if you say it, I’ll make sure to muffle your voice when you call my name.”
Oh, God. She closed her eyes. “Andrew, this is ridiculous. It’s just a word.”
“Then why won’t you say it?”
She blew out a breath. “Pussy.”
He laughed. The sound wrapped around her body, sinfully plush velvet. “Don’t be so shy, Hannah. I’m about to fuck you in every way known to man.” He paused, watching her face. “On the other hand- keep your shyness. It adds… spice.”
And then there was no talking. She cried out, hands gripping the thin dollar store sheets, knees locking around his neck as his tongue lapped her nub. She’d never thought such pleasure possible, and when his fingers dipped inside her… pussy… she thought her hips would bolt off the edge of the bed.
Andrew held her down. Licking, teasing. Fingers inside of her warming her body. Pools of molten heat gathering between her thighs as her body trembled on an edge.
“Do you want me?” he asked, hands gripping her thighs. “Last chance to deny me. Last chance to run away.”
Her head shook, curls flying in her vehemence. “No, no, don’t go.” The force of her conviction startled her, the strength in her voice a contrast to her earlier hesitance. “Please, Andrew.”
His forehead touched the bed a moment. He said something, voice muffled.
“What?”
“My name.” He looked up. “It’s Andrei. My name is Andrei. Andrew is the… American version. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Andrei. It suited him, suited the exotic trace of accent in his tone, the formal way he moved. The trained manners and poise.
“Andrei.”
He shuddered, rising to his feet. Her eyes glued to the hard male organ in front of her. Heavy, jutting, moisture at the soft looking head.
“Can I touch you?”
Andrei swore. “No. I wouldn’t last five minutes.”
He settled over her, his shaft nudging her entrance. Hannah wrapped her legs around his waist, looking into his eyes as he entered her. Slowly, the tight entrance slicked by her juices. But still tight. She bit her lip as her body adjusted. The invasion… she felt full. A delicious burning fullness. She craved more, her hips arching instinctively.
His jaw clenched. “Stop that, damn you. I’m trying to go slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She actually knew what he was talking about. “I’m a dancer, Andrei. You won’t hurt me.”
There was pain, but not much. And when he was sheathed inside her it was as if she could feel his heart beating in her chest.
He withdrew, sank back inside. His rhythm at first slow and measured before passion overtook good intentions.
She didn’t care. A moan escaped her throat, his organ pressing a spot inside her that ac
tivated such pleasure every thought fled. Only sensation. And the feel of his spirit mingling with hers.
“Mine,” he ground out. “Mate.”
“Yes. Yours.”
Teeth sank into her neck. Not teeth- fangs. He moved so quickly, the pierce of teeth so effortless, it took a moment for the pain to register. And then her body exploded.
***
Eventually the sensual haze had to fade, and her mind began to function again.
“You aren't human.”
He rose from their bed, lean muscles rippling. Stared down at her, impassive. “No.”
Hannah sat up, ignoring the sheet. He'd seen every part of her; there was no point in covering up now.
“What are you?”
“Can't you guess, Hannah?”
“Don’t play games,” she retorted. “I know you're a shifter. But you can’t expect me to figure out what kind.”
Andrei sighed. “No. I suppose not.”
He glanced away, the skin around his eyes tight. Was he... afraid... to tell her?
“Show me,” she said, rising to her knees on the bed. The faltered. “I mean- you aren't dangerous, are you?”
His smile lacked humor. “Sweet, I’m very dangerous. But not to you.” He held her eyes. “I would never hurt you.”
“Show me.”
Andrei's head lowered for a moment, and when he looked up again, jewel- no, shifter- bright eyes stared at her. Pierced her to the core as the beast within moved under his skin. Shoulders swelled, chest widening, muscles twisting. He bent over, fur sprouting along his forearms first in subtle tufts. Then as if a dam broke rivulets of fur crawled up his limbs. The same limbs that morphed before her eyes, bone and muscle popping. The sounds were disturbing. She clapped her hands over her ears, scrambling away from him, eyes wide.
Head banging against the wall, she forced herself to take slow, shallow breaths. Not to pass out.
The Bear rose to its hind legs. Well, as far as it could rise, bumping the ceiling. And stood, balanced perfectly still, staring at her. It was his stillness, his utter quiet that convinced her it was still Andrei, and not a demon from hell. And his eyes, still the same brilliant blue-green. Steady.
She licked her lips, hands trembling. “An- Andrei?”
He rumbled, head tilting. He fell forward onto his... paws. Hannah winced. No matter how he might try, his weight still sounded like a sectional dropping from eight feet high. She was glad there was nothing breakable on the coffee table in the living room.
Andrei took a step forward, stopped.
They stared at each other.
Hannah took a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this. Nice Bear.” She inched forward, raising her arm in front of her, fingers stiff. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and she jumped, scurrying back with a squeak.
His eyes closed, opened. Hot air blew towards her.
“It's not like it's every day I meet a Bear shifter,” she said, folding her arms. “You can't expect me to just... just. Oh, shoot.”
Hannah forced herself to walk forward, one step at a time, until she was so close his muzzle-
She shrieked. “Bad Bear!” His wet muzzle nuzzled her bare breasts. She tapped him on the head, like a naughty child. “No! No... nibbling. Not while you're in Bear form.”
He whined, collapsing to the floor, lolling onto his side. Her eyes widened.
“You don’t want a belly rub, do you?”
She swore his brow rose, expression hopeful. Hannah sighed, dropping to her knees and crawling into the warmth of his coat. “Okay, I can get used to this. You aren’t going to eat me.”
He rumbled, a deep, dark purr. Hannah blushed. “I mean, for lunch. Or dinner. Stop that, Andrei! Your mind is so...” she realized she was arguing with a Bear. A Bear that couldn’t talk back. And shut her mouth, turning so her back settled into him. “Never mind.”
He was so... comfy. “Oooohhh. I could get used to this. And in the winter I wouldn’t even have to run the heat.”
The Bear whuffed, and it sounded like laughter.
“We're going to have a long talk about this mates thing.
***
His mate.
Andrei knew Hannah didn’t know how beautiful she was. She smiled at him, teeth pearls in the dim light of her apartment, gleaming against deep skin speaking to the exotic lands of her forebears. Truly, she was fit to be a Queen; impossible to deny her tall, statuesque grace. He craved to see her, curls spread across her pillow, thighs spread for him to feat. Full lips parted and awaiting him as her liquid eyes glittered, daring him to take her.
She might think she was shy, his little ballerina, but she was mate to a Bear Prince. She had more strength than she knew.
***
“Andrei.”
“Your Majesty.”
Silence on the line. Each word a shard of ice. “Am I, Andrei? I’ve asked you to return to your duties but you’ve yet to comply. Or do you give lip service to loyalty while your true heart harbors rebellion?”
He gripped the cell. “There are… extenuating circumstances.”
“Do tell, my son,” Izobelle purred. “I’m absolutely fascinated.”
“I’m mating.”
“Excuse me?”
She’d heard him. He refused to speak, awaiting her true response.
“If this is true, why do you hide your mate?”
“She’s American, mother. And human. And not at all worldly. I’m uncertain it would be wise to bring her before the people quite yet.”
“Are you ashamed of her? Is she so lacking in grace?”
Trust his mother to drive an icepick in his temple with her words. “She is beautiful, and graceful, and kind. A worthy Princess.”
“Then what,” Izobelle said, “is the problem?”
“I need more time. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
He disconnected. She said nothing to keep him on the line- it would be beneath her dignity. Though her Bear managed a wild, temper induced rampage through the palace halls at least once a month. She would make him pay when he finally did appear. And his mate would pay as well.
***
“Lord Constin.”
He regarded the tall, regal Queen warily. He didn’t even dare to think her beautiful- there was speculation the female could read minds. She sat behind a desk in her penthouse hotel suite, shimmering black hair bound elegantly at her nape.
Constin bowed. “Your Majesty. How may I serve?”
“You were assigned to keep my Heir out of trouble, Constin. You failed.”
He tensed, forced himself to relax. Damnit, he was no coward. Merely… prudent.
Dropping to one knee, “Forgive me, Majesty. Andrei is… wily. His will and intelligence are matched only by Your Majesty.”
“Hmm. Get up, Constin. You’re embarrassing yourself. Groveling doesn’t work with me anyway.”
She rose, walking around her desk as he obeyed, approaching with the studied casualness of a predator about to leap. She wore silk slacks and a blouse in deep blue, feet naked, her toes winking with silver and diamonds. Stopped a bare inch from him, expressive eyes weighing him. Stripping him down to his parts to evaluate his worth.
“I’ve tracked my son down- he is unaware I know exactly where he is at all times.” She smiled. “A Queen mustn’t give away all her secrets. I want you to speak to him. Convince him to return to us.” Her smile faded, eyes narrowing. “And I want you to do one other thing.”
Constin waited. “Majesty?”
“There is a woman.”
***
“Andrei, have you gone mad?”
It was his mother’s next volley. He wasn’t stupid- Constin’s timing was a little too pat.
“No, I am not mad. I am mated. I’ve heard that it can be maddening, however.”
“A human.” Disbelief shaded the nobleman’s voice. “You would take a human commoner as your Queen. You have a duty-”<
br />
“I had no choice,” Andrei snapped. “And call her a commoner one more time and we will be at war. She is your Princess, and your future Queen. Furthermore, she is intelligent, graceful. Worthy to be my mate.”
“Please don’t tell me you’ve wed her. The Assembly would never allow it. Andrei…”
The Heir smiled. “I’ll email you an invitation to the wedding.”
***
Andrei was gone on business. Hannah knew he must be busy. He’d spoken of plans, and things he needed to put in order. Left the apartment with a kiss and a promise to return shortly- and then they would sit and have a serious discussion.
She savored the anticipation. The sweet earnestness of his expression assured her the discussion would be a good one. Time for them to make plans for the future. That this strong, dominant, clearly successful male was to be married to her… that he shed his cool, aristocratic exterior when in her presence… she refused to feel awe or even gratitude, because no man was better than God. But she did allow herself wonder and pleasure that she’d been blessed with someone unique.
Hopefully her parents would be happy when she finally made introductions.
She hurried out of her building, a wad of cash in her purse, heading to Whole Foods. More food- Andrei could eat. Glancing over her shoulder on lookout for the bus as she walked, Hannah bumped straight into a solid object.
“Oh!” Fast reflexes and excellent balance allowed her to catch herself before she fell. “I’m so sorry!” She whipped her attention back where it belonged- in front of her- and met the cool grey eyes of a tall, lean white man. Dressed in clothing not off the rack.
“No worries,” he said, and bowed.
Hannah tensed. The trace of accent in his voice matched Andrei’s. And he bowed like Andrei, as if they’d both had the same etiquette instructor. If they’d been dancers, she would have said they were in the same troupe.
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