by Gaelen Foley
Sitting on the chair before the fire, she wrapped her arms around him as he knelt between her legs. His tongue was in her mouth; her breasts were in his hands. She gently loosed his wild hair, unwinding the length of cord that bound his queue. As it fell to his shoulders, she twined her fingers through his sable mane, reveling in his virility.
Never had she found any man so utterly thrilling, especially like this; Rohan was more hungrily lustful for her and less civilized every moment. She urged him on, loving the fiery, untamed force of him, the hard, unyielding potency of the warrior. Losing herself in her want of him, she slipped her fingers inside the V of his loose white shirt, yearning for the chance to finally touch the gorgeous body she had so long craved.
She ran her palms over him, exploring. His muscled shoulders seemed carved of stone, but his smooth skin had the luxurious feel of kid leather. She moaned softly at the marvel of his heaving, sculpted chest.
He groaned in answer. “You’re driving me mad. I want you now,” he panted against her lips.
“Yes.” Greedily, she peeled his shirt off him. But when he paused to lift it off over his head, she stared in dazed awe at his chiseled abdomen. Oh, my.
Delights never ceased.
“Come here,” he whispered in a low, raw, husky tone.
The order excited her terribly. At the moment, she did not at all mind him telling her what to do.
With a burning passion in his eyes that would brook no denial, he scooped her up, lifting her to him with his hands under her derriere. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, feasting on his kisses as he brought her to his bed and laid her down.
He moved atop her. Surely he could feel her heart slamming in her chest, she thought, but he cupped her face and leaned down hungrily to kiss her once again.
“God, Kate,” he breathed as he paused above her only briefly, unfastening his breeches. “You tempt me beyond bearing.”
“Give in, then,” she whispered, for surely, he must know by now that, in truth, she had belonged to him from the start.
Rohan was shaking with his desperation to claim her for his own. She ravished his senses to the point of madness; he could not stand another moment of the life he had always lived before her, so alone. God forgive him, he did not mean to take advantage of her after what she had been through tonight, but there was no holding back now, not for either of them.
He wanted to be in her.
To tear down the final walls between them. Indeed, he vowed that once he saw the proof of her virgin blood, and knew she was finally and indelibly his, then he would tell her everything. As much as he could. The shadow war between the Order and the Prometheans was as much a part of her heritage as it was his. She had a right to know the truth. Who she was. What she came from.
He could give her that.
But right now, all he wanted to give her was pleasure unlike any she had ever known. He could hardly comprehend than the wild, irrational hunger she spurred on, racing through his blood. A hunger not merely to satisfy his lust, but to bind her to him somehow—this woman and no other. To close the circle of what had begun between them even before she was born. He knew down to the marrow, aye, from the first, that she belonged to him. His to protect, to heal, to reassure after all she had suffered. She needed him like no one ever had, and he would comfort her in the most physical way he knew how.
Maybe this was just their destiny. Superstitious. Perhaps. He struggled to find a rational cause for his crazed longing for her, some logical explanation why her hurts should hurt him, too, and why her arrival in a room could clear the darkness out, at least for him.
The answers danced away from him, dissolving in the pleasure of her kiss. Kate cradled his face between her hands, drinking him in with her mouth while her beauty and her sheer, sweet innocence enveloped him in an almost holy fire.
As his hands began to wander over all the soft enticements of her body, she undulated under his palms in seductive invitation. Her breasts swelled beneath his roaming touch. He chafed her erect nipples with his thumbs, but soon could not resist their tautened allure. He dragged his lips away from hers and moved lower to pay homage.
He sampled each with a deep, slow, savoring kiss. Her chest heaved as she lay back on her elbows, watching him, and enjoying his attentions. With her breast in his mouth, his hand was free to discover and to claim new territory.
And he had a very clear idea of where he wanted to go. His hand inched down her stomach, teasing her as he neared her mound of Venus. His fingers drew playful circles at the bottom of her belly; he made sure she was dying for his touch before he deigned to give it to her. When she groaned with kittenish frustration, her hips rising impatiently to meet his cupped hand, he introduced himself to her mound with a deft caress.
Ah, but when his fingertips pressed deeper, he nearly lost his mind. She was dripping for him, anointing his hand with her yearning nectar. She let out an urgent sigh of pleasure and dropped her head back as he began to finger her. His pulse slammed in his arteries, for she was as ready for love as any woman he had ever bedded, her breathless motions urging on his explorations. So wet. It was at about that moment that her unexpected wantonness enslaved him, heart and mind, body and soul.
Her silken moans transported him to a throbbing frenzy. He had never wanted anyone with such a deep and elemental need. He freed his raging member, then captured her hand by her delicate pinky, and led her fingers to his feverish shaft, clasping her hand around it.
A small sound of wonder escaped her. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to wince with frustration, but she delighted him. Then he quivered violently as her delicate fingers wrapped around him with an endearing enthusiasm for this new task. He fantasized about her mouth, but there was a time and a place for everything.
He had his work cut out for him tonight to conduct her initiation without causing her too much pain.
He pushed his breeches lower down his hips but tensed with a groan of pleasure as her hand’s tight grasp began stroking him harder, faster. She had moved onto her side to get a better hold of him. She was amazing.
“Does that feel good?” she ventured, sounding eager to work him into a lather.
“Very. But—” he whispered as he stopped her, “I know something that feels . . . even better.” Goaded on by climbing lust, he laid her on her back again and maneuvered himself gently atop her, taking care not to crush her with his weight. He slid his arm around her, cradled her lovely head in his hands, and gazed at her for a heartbeat. “I’m going to take you now.”
“Mm, yes, Rohan, please.” She writhed beneath him. He lowered his head and consumed her mouth with kisses as he entered her. Inch by inch, pressing in, he gave her what they both so desperately yearned for. She welcomed him, though he could feel her feverish uncertainty.
He moved slowly, throbbing inside her. He was only about halfway in, pleasuring her with small motions, caressing her tight inner walls. Her breasts heaved against his chest as she grew accustomed to his incursion, warily accepting it; he sensed the moment she had need of more.
He gave it to her, riding in more deeply, resolute in his taking. She licked her lips, opening to him, but still he held himself back. He moved slowly until her head thrashed back and forth on his pillow and her body squirmed beneath him in quivering frustration.
He drove in harder, quickened his pace. She arched, clawing at his trembling hips, a whispered curse torn wildly from her. He could bear no more self-denial. As she lay trembling beneath him, he braced himself on his hands above her, gazed fiercely into her eyes, and thrust again, taking her completely.
This time he drove in to the hilt, and a small cry of pain escaped her; he instantly regretted it. But when he started to pull back, she clung to him, her arms around his sweat-dampened waist.
He swallowed hard, for a quick glance down at the juncture of their joined bodies had revealed a scarlet streak of her blood.
Dear God. He had not expected the rush of emotion he no
w felt as it truly struck him that he had just deflowered her. She was the most beautiful, most astonishing creature he had ever met. And she had willingly given him her virginity.
All of a sudden, Rohan did not know what to do next; he was lost, just for a heartbeat. Should he stop? Should he continue? Had he just committed a terrible sin, taking her innocence, when he had only darkness to give her in return?
Kate made the choice for him, curving her body up to kiss his chest over and over so sweetly he was sure he’d lose his mind.
He cupped her head against him reverently and closed his eyes. Without a word, she told him it was worth it to her, and though it might have hurt, she wanted him like this, all the way inside her. That he was her choice. But the angel had no idea what she was getting into.
Rohan shuddered, stroking her hair with a hand that shook slightly under the violence of his passion. Never before had any lover moved him so deeply.
After a moment, slowly, they eased down together onto the mattress. Taking pity on her inexperience in light of his notorious size, he lay beside her; they stared at each other, their bodies still joined.
With her left thigh draped over his right hip, he pleasured her at a more leisurely pace. She closed her eyes and let him love her.
Before long, however, he had stoked her fire until it blazed again. She pressed him onto his back and, looking intrigued with the possibilities, sat astride him; he never left her body. Victorious atop him, she appeared to savor this position—and her newfound power over him.
There was no denying it. At the moment, he was hers, body and soul, whether she knew it or not. Whether he was quite ready for that or not. He was sure as hell not ready to admit it.
“Rohan,” she murmured, “why haven’t we been doing this all the time that I’ve been here?”
He gave her a licentious half smile. “I was trying to convince you that I was a gentleman,” he replied, his low tone roughened by desire.
She smiled at his irreverent answer and dragged her dainty fingers down his chest. “What would I want with a gentleman when I could have a Beast?”
“I beg your pardon,” he protested in mock indignation. Then he tumbled the saucy wench onto her back. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson about calling me that.”
“Please do.” She smiled into his eyes as he moved back into position between her legs. God’s truth, it was like coming home. “Now, then, my little present. If you don’t mind, I am going to give you an orgasm. I trust you are familiar with the term.”
“How exciting! Of course I am,” she answered breathlessly. “I’m not a prude, I’ll have you know.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Orgasm,” she said matter-of-factly. “From the Greek: orgasmos . To be ripe. To be lustful. ‘The little death.’ ”
He laughed softly. “Book learning, my little scholar. That’s all . . . just . . . book learning,” he whispered wickedly between kisses on her neck.
Then he began to tutor her so his little scholar might learn from experience.
Their bodies glided together in trembling harmony. Heated skin, rhythmic panting, slamming heartbeats. They made love as if their lives depended on it.
“Oh, God—Rohan!”
“Yes, Kate,” he whispered raggedly in smitten agreement.
“Oh . . . my . . .”
“Surrender to me,” he breathed against her lips.
She pulled him closer, held him tightly, and obeyed him; her high, wrenching moans intoxicated him, a frantic, soft soprano by his ear. He buried his face in her silky hair, battling himself to hold off just a moment longer until she had taken her full pleasure of him.
Spasms of profound climax racked her lithe body, and the sweet convulsions of her core drove him entirely mad.
She overcame him. How he had the presence of mind to withdraw from her body, he had no idea, for he was already falling into ecstasy, but he refused to risk getting her with child in the midst of all the danger she already had to deal with.
Waves of pleasure rocked him. His explosive release drenched her quivering stomach and her spread thighs with his seed.
He did not care. He had never been one to bother with tedious inhibitions. He let his growls and groans of pleasure fill the searing space between them. All the while, he gripped her hips, only wishing to God he could have filled her body instead.
Indeed, the thought of her carrying his child made such an impression on his member that even after a climax of such fierce magnitude, his ol’ fellow showed no sign of slackening.
“Oh . . . Rohan,” Kate purred after a dazzled silence.
He dragged his glazed eyes open and looked at her glowing face by the flickering illumination from the distant fireplace. He reassured her of his affections with a dazed smile and a gentle kiss. A breathless laugh escaped her while his lips still lingered over hers.
When he looked at her again in question, she bit her lower lip, as though to keep herself from saying something she feared might sound silly.
“What is it?” he teased barely audibly, cuddling her nose against his own, while his long hair hung down and veiled the private space where they stared into each other’s eyes. He never wanted this moment to end.
But he knew it would.
Even now, it was hard to shake the world-weary pessimism, the grim sense of doom, that lurked in the depths, he supposed, of every assassin’s heart.
“You’re wonderful,” she whispered shyly.
“The hell I am,” he answered with a rueful smile on his lips, and satisfaction in his heavy-lidded eyes. You don’t even know me. Not really. Yet.
But you will soon, my sweet.
As he rested his head on her silken chest and stared up at the dark velvet canopy over them, a faint shadow of uneasiness passed across his brow. We’ll see if you still think so when you hear the truth.
Chapter 14
The next morning was the second time Kate awoke in Rohan’s bed since her arrival at the castle. But unlike that first bewildering day, this time, when she opened her eyes to the morning sunlight flooding his chamber, he was the first lovely thing she saw, right there beside her.
In no hurry to arise, they stayed peacefully abed together. She passed a dreamy spell stroking her drowsing lover’s bare back in tender affection.
What a long, majestic line it was that flowed from the bulky ridge of his shoulder down to the sleek, lean curve of his lower back. Of course, he had more scars on him than one body ought to bear, she thought, but he was not inclined to answer her mild inquiries about them.
“What happened here?” she murmured, tracing what appeared to be a saber scar along his rib cage.
Lying on his stomach, his face resting on his folded arms, he feigned an in-between state of sleepy inattention, though he was clearly enjoying her touch. “Hm?”
She saw through his evasion but forgave him with a knowing smile. Whatever trouble he had been in, it hadn’t killed him. That was all that mattered. She leaned closer and kissed all his old hurts.
Her light kisses soon followed the same path her admiring hands had taken, until at length, he rolled onto his back and showed her the regal evidence of her effect on him. He drew her closer, wanting to make love again, but she was still sore from her first time and softly pleaded his forbearance.
With a husky chuckle at her reluctant denial, he stole a kiss, gave her a ruefully doting look, then arose in all his magnificent naked glory to order a bath drawn for both of them.
After washing and refreshing himself, Rohan dressed for the day and went downstairs to look in on his men. He wanted to make sure Parker and the others had returned without incident, and to retrieve the book from the safe where he had ordered Eldred to hide it last night.
He promised to bring back breakfast.
Kate remained in his chamber to finish freshening up, herself, and to work the tangles out of her hair. Wrapped in her protector’s giant banyan robe, she sat in the cozy window nook, gazing out at the
deep blue sea beyond the castle walls and cliffs, and the azure span of sky beyond the window mullions on this clear winter morning.
Her spirits were as bright as the new day, her heart aglow with serene fulfillment. Rohan’s absence gave her a few minutes alone to reflect on her new existence and the bold step she had taken last night with him.
Well, there was no going home now. Her house was burned down, and she was no longer a maiden. Book learning, she mused, suppressing a giggle of savored remembrance.
Of course, it was ironic that old Caleb Doyle would have the last laugh, considering he had brought her here in the first place for this very function. A “fine young bed warmer” for His Grace. How could she have known then that she would soon embrace this role?
But she had no regrets. Finally, she was not alone.
At the quick staccato of a knock at the door, she lit up and looked over from her perch in the window nook. “Who is it?” she called in a mischievous singsong voice.
The door opened. Rohan poked his head in. “Are you decent? ”
“Depends who you ask.”
“You are not naked. I’m crushed.”
“It’s chilly in here!”
“I could stoke the fire.”
“Believe me,” she purred, “you do.”
He grinned at her jest, but Kate refused to blush and sent him a sultry, sparkling look. Mistresses, after all, could say that sort of thing.
Then he swept into the room, bringing her breakfast on a tray like her very own cavaliere servente. “Hungry?”
“For what?” she shot back.
“My goodness,” he drawled, “I’ve created a monster. I’m so pleased.”
She laughed as he set the large tray on the bed, then sauntered over to her at the window nook. At once, he leaned down, captured her face between his hands, and gave her a long, luscious kiss after their short separation.
Though he had only been gone about twenty minutes, Kate had missed him desperately. She sighed with pleasure, caressing his arms, as Rohan slowly ended the kiss.
“Done being sore yet, by chance?” he whispered with a wicked gleam in his pale eyes.