by Elle Thorne
Just inches below the fingers hooked in his waistband, his cock was rigid and ready for her.
He hissed low, fighting the urge to push all foreplay aside and bury himself to the hilt deep within her. And no matter how much he tried to divert his mind away from taking her, his blood, his heart, his very essence—and yes, even his cock, or especially his cock—would not be diverted. He was plunging headfirst into a well of desire, and he was doing it willingly.
“Krisztián.”
The word was whispered. Her tone, a sultry low siren’s call, beckoned him to dive into her. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a demand. It was his name, her voice, his heart, her body, his bear and her bear, all seeking to be in the same place at the same time.
A slight frown puckered her brow, confusion swam in her eyes. Confusion at his hesitation. Little did she know, this wasn’t hesitation.
“Touch me, Krisztián. Please.” She pulled him closer, so his cock was against her stomach, pressing into her.
Unadulterated carnal lust drove him forward. His hand slid beneath her tank, his fingertips meeting soft flesh as he pulled the fabric over her head, leaving in her bra, a cream-colored, lacy concoction that hinted at the hardened rosy nipples peeking through. He leaned in, peppering her shoulder with kisses.
Her whimper drove his lust. He reached for her jeans, unbuttoned them while she shimmied out after kicking her shoes off. All this while his lips were still planting featherlight kisses on her neck. With one deft move, she reached behind her back and the bra fell to the ground. Seconds later, she’d dropped her panties.
Krisztián made short work of his shirt, jeans, and boxers, losing his hiking boots and socks swiftly.
He took a moment, albeit a long one, to study the vision of loveliness before him. She was a goddess come to life, standing before him in the forest.
“Come with me.” He took her hand.
“Where are we going?” She looked at the brook pointedly. “I thought this was where—”
“No. Trust me.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Naked, and completely comfortable with him, she followed him around a bend in the stream.
Of course, she trusted him. After all they’d been through, how could she not? They treaded carefully along a pine needle scattered path. He took her around a crevice to a secluded area concealed by ivy and branches. Pushing the branches aside, he led her in.
Ciara gasped. A small lagoon, flanked by large boulders, had steam rising from it. “What? Is this…”
He nodded. “Warm springs.” He took a step into the water.
“How did I not know this existed?”
She toed the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot. It was perfect. Step by step, they went deeper into the water until they were completely immersed.
The soft mineral water felt like silk against her skin. He cupped his hands and poured a handful over her shoulders. “Lean your head back.”
After she did, he proceeded to sluice the water over her head, then rubbed her hair, scrubbing her scalp.
Ciara closed her eyes and leaned against him.
His hands traveled to the nape of her neck, massaging, kneading, caressing. They made a trail down her back, to her hips, then around her front, holding her close to his chest. His erection pushed insistently against her butt, but he didn’t push the issue. Just held her close to him.
The sensation of those fingers feathering across her hips and abdomen, lowering enough to almost touch her pubic hair, then rising to her rib cage, but not touching her breasts, over and over, taking the same path, promising heaven but yielding nothing was too much. She found herself grinding her ass against his erection, wanting him. Needing him. Craving him.
Ciara turned around to face him. “Why are you doing this?” Her words were a tormented whisper.
“I don’t want to rush you.” He wore a wicked sensual smile.
Her throat closed with desire, unable to utter the words she wanted to scream at him. How her body was thrumming with need. How there was a fire between her legs that only he could minister to. Damn him.
He turned, then took her hand and pulled her toward a large boulder near the center of the pool, then lifted her and placed her on it. Leaning her back, he bares her body to him completely.
Rising from the water he palmed her breasts, squeezing, rubbing, thumbing the swollen tips.
Ciara arched her back, digging her nails into the sun warmed boulder. His lips replaced his hands. His mouth and teeth teasing her rigid nipples.
* * *
Krisztián lowered himself, trailing his tongue down her torso and hips until his face was even with her sex. The triangle point of her downy hair pointed to the spot he was heading toward. Her lips were slick with her need. He paused to inhale her scent, smelling her sweet pussy aroma. Damned if his cock didn’t tighten and harden more.
He breathed on her lips, causing her legs to quiver and a soft moan to slip from her mouth.
He closed his eyes, concentrating on that scent while his bear roared in his head for him to get on with business. He opened them and studied her.
Her face was flushed, her chest—with her magnificent dusky-tipped nipples—rose with her panting.
Grabbing her legs, he pushed them farther apart then slid his tongue into her slit and swiped it upward to her clit. He touched the tip of his tongue to that button of hers.
A shudder ran through Ciara’s body, leaving her shaking. She pushed her legs even farther apart and half raised her hands in a feeble attempt to grab his head.
Krisztián dove in, licking her over and over, sucking on her full lips and releasing them with a pop. Her slippery essence coated his tongue and lips, tasting of decadent whiskey and honey
Over and over he licked and drank her down as she writhed and moaned. He was certain she would send him over the edge if she didn’t slow down, when suddenly, she groaned and cried out.
He grabbed her thighs and latched his lips onto her sweetness, letting her climax fill his mouth as he sucked on her clit.
He glanced up at her to find her body spasming while her eyes rolled back.
She dropped to the boulder’s hard surface, panting fiercely.
“I’m not done with you.” Krisztián pulled her up, led her to a tall boulder and turned her to face the stone’s hard surface. Holding her hands above her head, he pinned her wrists to the boulders and guided her legs apart.
Swiftly, he was pushing inside her, filling her completely.
* * *
Ciara gasped at the suddenness, the fullness, the hardness, then leaned her head back against his shoulder, yielding to the mind-blowing feeling of Krisztián taking her. A solid mass of muscle behind her and a hard boulder in front of her, she was pinned to the wall of stone, just as her heart was pinned to loving this man.
He hooked an arm around her waist and began to thrust. Thrust after thrust, she felt every inch of him as he picked up the pace, groaning in her ear, his breath hot, his voice raspy.
Her hips undulated on their own accord, meeting each of his thrusts as he drove into her again and again. The sound of their slapping flesh melded with the forest’s sounds until she felt his tormented groan surging through his expanded chest.
The very idea he was ready to climax drove her to dig her nails into the stone. His fingers dropped from her abdomen to her hip as he strummed a beat on her clit that brought her to a feverish crescendo.
“Krisz—oh, god. Krisztián!”
Just as she was peaking, her body in a massive whirlpool of sensations, she felt his teeth digging into her shoulder and his cry of climax.
She collapsed against rock, while he held her as her legs gave out.
He was still.
She cocked her head.
Something—
Her bear was growling something at her.
Suddenly, she looked at him over her shoulder.
Krisztián nodded. “I did.”
“You marked m
e as yours.” She knew about the couple-bond. She wasn’t mad. Of course, he was her mate. She knew that deep inside, just as her bear clearly knew it.
And the growling? That had been her bear rejoicing.
“Are you not mine?” he whispered softly in her ear, his voice sex-husky.
“You know I am.”
And she knew it, too. And her bear knew it.
Maybe the bear knew it all along.
Damned bear.
The bear snapped at her in her mind.
She smiled. She knew the bear wasn’t angry with her.
And finally, for the first time in a long time, ciara felt peace.
She felt more than peace. She felt complete.
Until you’re completed by someone, you never realize you might have been incomplete.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ciara and Krisztián were walking, hand in hand, back to the B&B. His fingers were firmly wrapped around hers, and she knew she was forever safe. Forever happy.
Doc and Mae sat on the porch, and, for the first time in a long time, Krisztián realized there wasn’t a massive group of shifters and sundry paranormals lingering in and about the building.
“Where is everyone?” Krisztián asked.
“They’re at Grant’s, getting ready for the celebration.”
Ciara looked at him then to the couple on the porch. “What celebration?”
Yeah, Krisztián wondered, what celebration?
Mae wore a secretive but content expression. “You. Both of you.” She waved her hand between them. “This.”
“This?” Ciara frowned.
“You’re a couple, now. So we thought we’d have a celebration.”
“Wai–wait a minute,” Ciara stumbled over her words. “How did you know?”
Mae shook her head. “As if it wasn’t evident from the start?
Krisztián shook his head, a smile ready. “And how did you know we’d be coming back today?”
Doc chuckled. “Griz said you’d have to come back today. He timed out the amount of food and figured sometime today, after breakfast.
Mae raised a brow. “Though you are a couple of hours later than expected.”
Ciara’s cheeks pinkened. She looked down at the ground, suddenly interested in pushing pebbles around the soil with the toe of her boot.
Krisztián deflected, “Any news on Youngblood or Saizon?”
“None.” Doc’s face was grim. “Griz is back. Saizon isn’t around. Said he had to check in. Never saw him again.”
“There’s a question that’s been on my mind. I didn’t notice it at first, but it occurred to me later.” Krisztián stepped onto the porch, escorting ciara up the steps with a hand on her back.
“What’s that?” Doc asked.
“When we first met Declan, he’d been at Mairi’s cabin, but I didn’t pick up a scent or hear a heartbeat.”
Mae looked concerned. “Hunter’s block would explain it.”
“Right,” Krisztián agreed. But it wouldn’t explain why I didn’t hear him. At all.
“It is odd,” Doc agreed. “Any idea why?”
“Not the faintest.” Krisztián turned to Ciara. “You have any thoughts?”
She shrugged. “No. We could ask them, right?”
Mae shook her head. “They didn’t exactly leave a way to contact them.”
“Svetlana was the go-between on that. Her contacts in the druid community gave us their address,” Krisztián reminded them.
“Do you plan to ask her? Did you want to reach out to them?” Doc asked.
He pondered the thought. “I guess not. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe I was too concerned about Ciara to notice a heartbeat.” He didn’t have to pursue the matter, but still, curiosity niggled at his brain. He noticed the three of them appraising him with concerned faces. “No biggie. We have a party to get to.” He gave them a smile and pushed the matter of Declan Ó Ruairc from his mind. It wasn’t as if he planned to ever see the guy again.
“I’d like a moment to freshen up, change, you know, girl stuff.” Ciara pulled her hand from his and started for the front door.
He thought she looked damned good as she was, but he could imagine she didn’t want to have that tangled-hair, freshly fucked look on her face. Though that was the look he wanted her to wear for the rest of their lives. “I could use a quick shower myself.” He followed after her then glanced back at Mae and Doc. “Give us a few?”
Doc and Mae exchanged a glance. “Take as long as you need. Knowing Grant and Chelsea, there will be more than enough food. Food for days.”
When Krisztián reached Ciara’s room, he could hear the shower water running. She didn’t waste a second now, did she? He stepped into the unlocked room and shed his clothes swiftly then opened the door to the bathroom.
Long wet hair molded to her body, she wiped cascading water from her eyes. “Took you long enough.” Her smile was wicked.
“They’re waiting for us.” As though he cared.
“I’m not suggesting we take long.”
“I want to take forever.”
And he did. Forever. Loving her. Just her. Always her.
His bear roared in his mind, standing on hind legs, head thrown back.
And her bear. Yes, he wanted to spend forever loving her and her bear.
The bear landed on all fours with a thud that made Krisztián wince, but sent an agreeing growl in his head.
“We have forever,” Ciara said in response.
That they did.
Keep reading for an excerpt from the next book in the series!
Excerpt: Possession
A skilljacker on the lam runs into a beautiful, haunted seer. On any other day, this could have been a match made in heaven, but not when he steals her skills.
And definitely not when she takes his bear.
Can a common goal help bring this duo together, or will this match tear apart the fated mates?
Chapter 1
Slate Youngblood had two questions. First, how did the ones hunting him learn that his brother, Dunnigan, was a deathbender? And second, did Griz Del Cruz and his Bear Canyon Valley group tell anyone—specifically, Victor Saizon from Razorpeak—that Slate was a skilljacker?
Damn them. He slammed his fist into his palm. He was far enough they couldn’t hear him. They. The ones pursuing him. But still—he cursed himself for the fist-in-palm thing and making a sound—he risked being heard, even if only by slapping his fist into his hand. Shifters had extraordinary hearing. He should know, he was a shifter himself, after all. A bear shifter, to be exact. And to be more precise, he was a skilljacker. In colloquial terms, one who stole supernatural skills from others. Though, stole was a word Slate wasn’t fond of. He preferred to refer to it as appropriating.
But now—thanks to opening his big mouth about the damned situation he was in had forced him to do—others knew he wasn’t just another bear shifter. He’d been compelled to reveal things about himself he didn’t want to share. Now, they knew of his specific skillset. And they were in pursuit. Granted, they weren’t hunting him for the sake of hunting him alone. They also wanted him to lead them to his brother. Dunnigan. They wanted Dunn because, as interesting as a skilljacker such as he might be, a deathbender like Dunn would be infinitely more valuable.
And Slate had blabbed to Griz and his group about Dunn’s specific specialty. Deathbending. Of course, he’d had to. He needed to trust someone to help them. That someone was Larsen del Cruz—also known as Griz. Griz had an exceptional reputation as a trustworthy individual. Plus, Dunn trusted Griz, so who else could Slate turn to?
Who’d have thought Victor Saizon would have shown up and ruined everything? The bastard had interrupted the tête-à-tête between Griz, Krisztián, Ciara, and Slate at the picnic table outside Mae Forester’s Bed & Breakfast and had sent Slate running for the hills. Or in this case, the mountains, as Bear Canyon Valley was surrounded by the Bear Canyon Mountain range.
Slate had doubled back
, losing all of those tracking him—Saizon, as well as Griz and his group. He’d had to lose Griz because the guy might share something with Saizon. And Slate couldn’t afford for Saizon to capture him because he didn’t trust him or anyone else at Razorpeak. Bunch of damn paranormal bureaucrats who wanted to control everything in the paranormal world. Who sent spies to infiltrate and wreak havoc. Not to mention, all the rumors. Oh, yes, rumors that some of the Razorpeak types were involved with a clandestine lab called Crossroads. A place where horrendous, inhumane research and experiments were performed on unwilling paranormals.
He would have bet money that was why they wanted his brother. A gift like Dunnigan’s…
What about your gift? a voice whispered in his head. Funny, the voice sounded a lot like Dunn’s. So much so, a surge of pain coursed through at the thought something could be very wrong with his brother. Sure, Dunn could bend death, but that didn’t mean he was immune to the vagaries of death, did it? Slate wasn’t sure how deathbending worked. Nor was he sure how Dunn could be killed. He was certain his brother could take death away from others, but he couldn’t imagine Dunn could take death from himself. What if they killed him? What if they’d shot him and now—
He pushed that thought away. He needed to stay in the present.
High up in the mountains of Bear Canyon Valley, he peeked between the trees. Smoke rose from the chimney on Mae’s B&B. Griz should be there. Or at least, back in the valley. Where else would he have gone after Slate managed to lose them?
And speaking of, where would Saizon have gone? Because Slate was damned sure Victor Saizon was not the giving up type.