“Really? Congratulations!” She couldn’t help but be happy for them, remembering the tormented look in Napoleon’s eyes when he’d seen Moira’s tortured face. “I hope I’m not being rude. Can I ask why now?”
“I am not psychic, Jess. Napoleon will never be able to have with me what he could have with someone who is. He deserves a bloodmate, though he always maintained that he loves me anyway. It just took me some time to believe it. I’ve always wanted him to have it all. I still do. If he ever finds a bloodmate, I will step aside. I love him. When he asked me again to be his mate, I couldn’t say no.”
Napoleon interjected, “What your beautiful aunt doesn’t realize is that she is my bloodmate. She always has been. Her lack of psychic ability keeps her blind to the fact.”
“So Shane and I aren’t the first Hulven and Elven to bloodmate. You two have too.” The possibility of more pairings raced through her mind. “There are probably lots of couples out there like us. Shane and I are just the first to find and recognize each other.”
Napoleon grinned from ear to ear and placed a kiss to Moira’s temple. “What’s the favor?”
“I want to resume our mating, where it was cut short. Could you maybe make sure we have complete privacy for the day?” She thought about the clothes that had been left on the rock. Shane might be fine with people seeing them in intimate moments, but it made Jess uncomfortable.
“It is yours. You have my word that no one will come anywhere near the spring this day,” Napoleon said. Moira nodded in agreement.
That detail taken care of, Jess asked Moira, “Do you think Jorie would help me braid my hair?”
Moira’s smile beamed. “I’m sure she would love that.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fualth stared up at the ceiling of his cell. The Council had just completed what it considered a round of questioning. What a joke. They were too politically correct to do what was required to get the answers that they seemed to need desperately. Threats. That was all they could stomach. Threats. Oh, he had no doubt that regardless of whether or not he answered their questions; they would put him to ground for centuries. There was no threat in that. It was a fact. Why would he answer questions to avoid what was inevitable?
This was the problem with the SOSC. This is why his mentor would someday rule the world. They were just too fucking nice. If the SOSC had their way, Elven would starve to death. All it would take would be humans deciding that they didn’t want to share their blood anymore. Ridiculous. Elven were created to rule the planet and all of the species within in it. All of them.
This might have been a setback to his mentor. Regardless, Fualth had no doubt that by the time he awoke from whatever punishment the High Ones imposed, he would be in a world ruled by the only Volaticus male who was ruthless and powerful enough to deserve to rule. The stupid SOSC thought Fualth was the mastermind, the originator of the movement they thought they had crushed. His ego appreciated their confidence in him, but it was more of a testament to his mentor, the true mastermind, who they continued to be unaware of.
If they thought threatening Fualth would get him to betray his mentor, they were even more stupid than he gave them credit for. With a practiced, superior grin, Fualth turned to the wall that slid away, prepared to give a taunting expression to whoever entered. That expression fell away as the hooded figure entered, the wall closing behind him.
Fualth was already moving to kneel before the figure before the hood lifted. “Osiris. My liege.” He bowed on bended knee in respect.
“You have failed me, Fualth.” The voice was pitched one octave too high to be considered masculine. The true-form face was covered in tattoos. Fualth’s mentor peered down at him with disgust.
“I will rise anew to fight at your side. This is a small setback,” Fualth argued.
“No. You won’t.” The statement was laced with meaning.
“There was a siphon …” Fualth never completed the sentence. He felt the punch of a needle in his neck, and the immediate paralysis and debilitation of the mercury cyanide injected into his body followed. He looked at the face of his mentor once more when he fell to his side, his skin red and his eyes glazed over. He never took another breath.
****
Osiris elevated Fualth’s legs on the bed and withdrew an ivory-blade knife from within the folds of his cloak. It was unlikely that a full blood transfusion would save his protégé, but why take chances? Slicing through the male’s neck to the spine he stood watching the blood flow toward the drain in the center of the room.
Osiris had known that Fualth’s inclination for cruelty, a trait Osiris had long fostered and exploited, would be Fualth’s ultimate downfall. He’d used Fualth to oversee the original breeding programs, which Fualth ran with fear tactics, a practice Osiris had long abandoned in all his current endeavors. Of course, Fualth never realized his was not the only iron Osiris had in the fire. Oh, far from it. Osiris had discovered some time ago that humans were far more amenable to doing what he wanted the way he wanted. Their short life expectancies made them easy to kill. They were also predictable in their greed and gluttony. Grease the right human politician’s hand, call whatever you’re doing medical or scientific research, and the sky’s the limit of what you can do. Few if any of them lived long enough to catch a glimpse of the entire processes. Most of his so-called research had been going on for generations.
Luckily Fualth’s home base in Maine had been destroyed before the SOSC had accessed the communications room. All of Fualth’s monitors were destroyed, and the SOSC had been unable to trace the signals to any other viewing location, allowing Osiris to remotely watch the cameras still in operation.
He’d watched Fualth’s people surrender at the African nest during the seven-day clemency. He’d watched the strikes against the locations. He saw the two siphons and had already identified them. Siphoning was one of the few talents that left him vulnerable while in full shield and shadow. He had known of the male but had thought him long dead. The Morsdente Osiris had arranged to kill the male’s mate had accomplished its goal. Why had the male not followed his mate in death?
The female was a surprise. He was still trying to figure out how she could exist. To his knowledge, there were no females from Enlil’s and Ninlil’s bloodline. The last one had died within its mother’s womb. One thing was sure: This Jess was a powerful threat.
He still remembered the prediction the pre-cog seer had told him all those centuries ago: Your justice will come at the hands of a shadowed thief of energy. Under a new order, uniting age-old enemies, before the final enlightening. He’d never fully bought into what the pre-cog had said, considering it was said under torture, but an unknown siphon and learning Enlil did not follow his bloodmate in death did bring the prediction back into Osiris’s thoughts. Since the female was only twenty-six years old, Osiris would concern himself with her at a later date. For now, he would continue with his original plans.
Seeing the last drops of blood leave the body of his former protégé, Osiris could only sigh at the waste. He raised the hood. Calling on his talent to shadow his image, he stepped back out of the room, sealing the opening behind him, and slipped into the night. A ghost. Always a ghost.
****
Seventeen days, twelve hours, fourteen minutes. Shane could feel the stiffness of his muscles from sitting in the same spot hour after hour. He didn’t trust himself to move. He’d felt twinges of Jess’s emotions the past few hours, nothing to indicate she was upset or in any pain or danger. Just the knowledge that she was awake and aware, and a few times he thought she was missing him. Perhaps the bonding didn’t work on her side. Maybe she didn’t take enough of his blood for a full bonding. Perhaps it was only enough to initiate her Becoming. What if some male had gotten to her during estrus and she no longer wanted Shane? His heart knew the truth. She loved him and would call for him. It was his mind turning him into knots of insecurity. What could she be waiting for?
He was about to see
if Gregor and Teya would put him back in the secured room when he felt a tickle at the back of his hair. “Ppssttt.” A whisper, he wasn’t even sure whether he heard it or imagined it. Holding his breath, he waited for it to come again.
There. The scent of oleanders rode on a gentle wind blown in his ear. “Pppssttt.” Shane’s eyes fell closed at the overwhelming sensations caused by the gentle contact. She was here teasing him through a port fold. The vixen.
“Is that the call of my temptress?” He wanted to hold her, enjoying her play.
“Come to me, my bloodedmate. I’m waiting.” Shane’s mind was flooded with the image of the spring. He felt a tug on their bond. Shane couldn’t contain the joy and anticipation that rolled over him; his mate had learned much.
She was at the spring. He realized the significance of the reunion spot she had chosen, and he couldn’t wait to see her beautiful face. Standing, he let out a triumphant roar and removed his slacks, wanting to be bared before her in every way. He stepped into the spot where, not so long ago, he had set her toes into the waters edge. Replaying the memory of the wondrous smile she’d worn as the mud squished between her toes, he wiggled his own toes.
Jess was sitting on the rock where clothing had been waiting for them on their bonding day. Her feet were placed at exactly the spot in the grass he’d been standing when he’d scooped her up and flown her back to the war tent. That seemed like forever ago now. Her back was to him, and between her shoulder blades gently waved the most beautiful set of wings Shane had ever seen. Jess’s hair was lying between the wings, following the line of her spine. It was intricately braided with tiny braids looping around to join into the thicker main braid. Tiny, delicate vines and baby’s breath flowers were woven into the braid. There were even toxic little oleander blossoms.
He could feel her desire mingling with his own in the way of bloodmates. A shared experience, the bond bounced their pleasure off of and into each other, increasing the intensity and satisfaction of the other. He could feel Jess holding herself back, wanting to prolong and languish in these first moment together. Shane’s heart nearly beat out of his chest. His Beauty was finally within reach. Shaking with the urge to pounce on her, he couldn’t breathe. He could only watch. The depth of his love for her, evident in his gaze, was lodged in his throat, making him speechless.
She pivoted toward him, her stunning emerald-green eyes peering over her shoulder into his eyes, slamming what little breath he’d had out of his lungs. She turned to face him fully, slowly rising from her perch on the rock. A smile lit her face, the most magnificent smile, and the tips of her dentes were evident. The shimmering gown she wore clung to her curves, caressing her figure. His breath returned with a swift intake. He took two steps toward her before falling to his knees on the grassy bank, mesmerized. She was breathtaking, a miracle. His eyes immediately filled and overflowed with tears of joy. He was sure he had the stupid grin of a male in love plastered across his face, the same look he’d once given his friends shit for. He couldn’t care less. All that mattered was Jess.
Returning his smile, she sauntered over to where he knelt watching her. She walked a slow circle around to his back, and her dente’s slid firmly into her mouth. “You have the sweetest ass ever. Have I told you that?” Shane shook his head. “Shame on me. Yummy. That is what your ass is.”
He felt her excitement level jump as the scent of her arousal wafted around him. She continued to stand behind him, and Shane groaned. Jess placed her hands on his shoulders and stepped toward him until the front of her thighs pressed against his shoulder blades. She leaned forward, sliding her hand down his chest, across his abdomen, stopping short of his erection, nearly touching him where he was aching for her the most.
He could feel her reactions too, and her anticipation added fuel to his. She could feel the ache she was creating in him, and the siren was reveling in it. Slowly snaking her hand back up his stomach and chest, she circled one of his nipples with the tip of her finger. She moved away from his back, leaving him feeling barren just long enough for her to complete the circle and step around to face him again.
Shane slid his hands up her thighs, lifting the bottom edge of her skirt. As the delicate fabric rose, it revealed the treasure between her legs. He tugged her the final distance to reach his lips, laving an intimate kiss against her nether lip. Jess’s moan of pleasure filled his ears. The sensations of his tongue finding the bundle of nerves hidden within her folds overtook her, leaving her panting, soft, sharp cries of pleasure. Her hands plunged into his hair. He trailed down the tender flesh, seeking her entrance, sampling her nectar. The sweet flavor of Jess exploded across his tongue. Her inner walls clutched his tongue before he returned to the bundle, then again plunged into her entrance, taking her body quickly toward release. The sensations ricocheted into him. He groaned from the shared pleasure he was giving them both, sending a vibration into her core, launching them both closer toward mutual gratification.
Jess halted his maneuvers before she could reach her peak. She wanted more. Falling to her knees before him, she leaned in, gently cupping his sack. Shane drew in a deep breath. “Your scent is an addiction, Beauty.”
Jess watched his eyes darken, showing his passion. Her nipples hardened, ached, reached for him against the delicate silk fabric that separated them from the warmth of his bare chest. She paused a breath from his lips to whisper seductively, “Not so fast. I want to savor you.” She captured his lips, taking command of the kiss she so desperately needed. Her arms came around his neck and Shane groaned, opening to her exploration, allowing her to take charge. She gave a controlled flap of her new wings, propelling him from his knees to his back, and covered him with her body.
Shane’s arms came around Jess’s, returning her kiss, passion for passion. He started to lift the shimmering silk to touch her breast. Jess slapped his hand away. “My turn.” Rising on her elbows to look into his face, she said, “You’re all mine.” Nipping his ear with her dente, she licked the drop of his blood that welled up from his lobe. She nibbled down his neck, pausing at his pulse, running her tongue the length of the beating flesh the way he so often had with hers. Working down his chest, she sucked first one and then the other of his flat nipples into her mouth before continuing downward.
Finding her intended target with her hand, she encircled his throbbing shaft, slowly stroking it, using the beads of moisture escaping from the tip to wet the head with her fingertips. She grasped and stroked his length again. Her mouth continued the slow descent, painstakingly detailing each of the defined muscles along his abdomen.
“Yours, to do with as you please.” His voice growled with passion. His body was taut with pent-up lust. His erection was thick against her palm with his need to release. “Be warned, my love, my control is weak. This is sweet torture.”
Jess circled his sensitive ridge with her tongue, and a pleasure-pain cry escaped him. His hands grabbed fistful of grass at either side of him. She took him deep into her mouth, being careful of her new dentes. Stroking the underside with her tongue, she withdrew, then plunged him deep into the back of her throat again.
“Jess. Oh Fates, I need to be in you, Beauty. Take me into your body, my love, please,” he gritted out. She could feel him holding back his release with everything in him.
Jess released him from her mouth and rose up to straddle him, still fully dressed in her gown. She needed, he needed, and they would have eternity for slow seductions. She raised herself over his erection, sinking it into her core, working him deep within her, crying out in unison with Shane when he reached his hilt at the entry to her womb. Riding him hard and fast, she reached for her rapidly approaching peak in desperation. Every move, every stroke of the exposed nerves deep inside her built the fire in her higher. Psychically stroking the building pressures in each other in a way only true bloodmates could, they crested their peaks together, feeling the other’s explosive release intensely. The joined stimulation created a firestorm of pleasure. W
ave after wave they rode as mutual pleasure pinged between them.
Jess screamed, “Yes, Shane, yes,” her body pulsing, milking Shane’s gritted, “Aww, Jess.” Every move brought on a renewed surge of release before they slowly returned from the sensory abyss.
“Damn, I needed that. I needed you,” Jess murmured, breathing hard, her pulse still pounding. She slid down to lie boneless across Shane’s chest.
“That was exactly what we both needed, Beauty.” Shane began untying the halter and sarong she still wore. “This gown is amazing. You look beautiful in it. It will look even better rumpled on the ground. I need to feel your skin against me. I have to touch you. Every inch. I need to know you are okay.” He placed a kiss on her shoulder, her neck. “Let me see you.”
She smiled and rolled with him to her back. Overhead clouds were swirling, bearing tribute to their sexual energy. She bit her bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood. “Shane.”
“Hmm.” His distracted reply came from the curve of her neck.
“It’s going to rain, babe.” She’d caused the storm with the energy of their passion.
He looked up at the clouds. “Then we must be doing it right.” He moved back toward her neck.
She giggled, dropping her head to cut off access, halting his antics. He met her gaze again. Cupping his cheek in her hand, she leaned forward to place a gentle kiss to his lips, teasing him with the taste of the drop of blood. “I want to go home. I miss Mesa.”
Placing his forehead to hers, Shane nodded. “My place or yours?”
“Your place, our bed.”
Shane smiled. All was right in the world.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Six months later…
“I just got off the phone with the district attorney’s office.” Mark Johnson looked into the anxious faces of the three women across the desk from him. “Someone pretty high up must have pulled some strings, because he has not only reviewed the independent evaluation of the evidence against Ben, his specialists have confirmed our findings. The coroner will be re-issuing Marja Weedle’s death certificate to show that the cause of death is suicide. The District Attorney’s office is faxing over the dismissal order for Ben’s case any minute.”
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