together.”
She didn’t question his instructions but lifted her legs and clamped them around
his waist, her eyes going wide at the exquisite pleasure that brought between her legs.
He was so big, so full inside her, yet as he began pumping into her, there was no
discomfort, only the most delicious sensation that caused her nails to arch and dig into
his back.
He knew she had meant the words she had spoken to him. He had already seen the
growing affection for him in her mind, but to know she trusted him, wanted him, ached
for him as he did for her was a glorious feeling that flooded his entire being. His
thrusting sped up, went deeper, until they were both grunting and striving for that
culmination he was gods-be-damned sure might well blow the top of his fucking head
off.
Lea was clinging to him, riding out the storm of passion that had erupted from his
body. His fingers were digging into the soft flesh of her rump as he pistoned his hard,
full cock in and out of her with meaty slaps that might have been funny to hear if it
weren’t so sensual. At the moment she felt the first squeeze of her vaginal muscles
around his cock, she tightened her hold on his waist and arched closer to him, wanting
every inch, every hard pounding inch striving to touch her womb.
Bevyn came with a deafening roar that by rights should have cracked the fragile
glass chimney of the hurricane lamp sitting on the bedside table. He threw his head
back and howled his release, pumping into her as hard and as long as he could until the
very last spurt of his cum was free. Beneath him, the bed shook, the headboard
pounding the wall until a shower of plaster fell down upon his naked back from the
ceiling.
Lea was lost in her own release, trilling like a song bird as her orgasm ripped
through her lower body and up into her belly. Her thighs were like vises around his
hips and one heel was digging into the crack of his ass as she clung to him. With the last
little ripple echoing away, she collapsed like a broken toy, arms and legs splayed like
the wanton she felt.
“By the gods,” Bevyn whispered as every muscle in his body began quivering. He
was shaking as he rolled off her, the heat from their bodies, the sweat that heat had
generated cooling under contact with the cool air flowing through the room.
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Her Reaper’s Arms
Never, he thought, had he known such ecstasy could be found in the silken arms of
a woman. Never, he knew, would he ever seek that release again from any other. This
woman whose body lay alongside his, whose breath was rushing in and out of her
lungs as tautly as his own, whose heart was thundering in tandem with his, would be
the only pleasure he would ever know this side of paradise. With the last ounce of his
strength, he eased his hand to hers and entwined their fingers.
“Tá grá agam duit, a ghrá mo chroi,” he said in his native language, but there was no
need to translate. He knew she had gleaned his meaning but he did it anyway. “I love
you, my darling.”
She turned to face him, her body slick with their combined sweat. “You’d better,
Reaper,” she said. “I am the only woman you’re ever gonna have.”
Bevyn smiled for he knew she did not understand that her words were as true as
any she would ever speak. Not only because he had lost his heart to her—and thought
perhaps he had that first night—but because the Triune Goddess had made it a Geas, an
unbreakable prohibition from ever lying with another woman and taking her body with
his once a Reaper had claimed his eternal mate.
Lea watched him close his eyes and knew he had worn himself out, first with the
crying and now with the loving. He might be a fierce warrior, a savage Reaper, but he—
after all—was a man and he was tired. He did what all men do after an intense bout of
sex—he fell asleep.
She smiled. How easy it was for him, she thought, to just close his beautiful eyes
and fall into a deep slumber. Snuggling up to him, she laid her arm protectively across
his belly and held him, shutting her eyes to that marvelous piece of flesh crooked at his
thigh that had satisfied them both so well.
She had no way of knowing that such easy slumber was as strange and unknown to
Bevyn Coure as the love she was so willingly bestowing upon him.
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Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Chapter Four
“What will we do today?” he asked from the bed as he watched her looking around
for her clothing.
“Have you seen my dress?” she asked, bending down to look under the bed,
though how her clothing could have gotten there was a mystery.
“After a hearty breakfast of course,” he amended.
She was standing there at the foot of the bed as naked as the day she was born with
her hands on her hips, a frown marring the perfection of her lovely features. When he
didn’t respond to her question, she gave him an arched brow. “Where are my clothes?”
she asked.
He was lying there with his hands behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankle, as
completely unconcerned about his nakedness as if he’d been alone. He cocked one
shoulder. “How would I know, wench?” he asked. “Where did you last see them?”
Lea narrowed her eyes. “What did you do with my clothes, Reaper?” she growled.
“Think you I could wear them, Lea?” he asked innocently. “They’re not my color.”
Too innocently, she thought, and her suspicion increased, especially so when she
saw his lips twitch.
“Bevyn?” she asked in a warning tone.
“Lea?” he threw right back at her in the same tone.
She stomped her bare foot and that seemed to delight him no end. A wide smile
broke across his handsome face, telling her all she needed to know.
“Where are my clothes?” she snapped.
He took one arm from beneath his head and waved his hand, and in the blink of an
eye, the most beautiful and soft cotton green-and-white-gingham gown and silk
chemise appeared on her body.
“You mean those clothes?” he asked, sticking his arm under his head again.
Lea jumped, startled by such magic, and she stared with wide eyes at the dress. She
shrieked and hopped skyward when a pair of soft kid slippers suddenly showed up on
her bare feet.
Bevyn was howling with laughter, doubled over, pointing an accusing finger at her
as she stood there. “If you could see your face!” he managed to get out in between
chuckles.
Her eyes narrowing, her lips pursing, fingernails digging into her palms, she
advanced on the bed. “That’s not funny, Reaper!” she accused. When he continued to
laugh, she jerked the pillow out from under his head and began pummeling him with it,
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Her Reaper’s Arms
which seemed to only increase his mirth as he threw up an arm to avoid her
bludgeoning.
“You idjut,” she named him. “Don’t you be doing stuff like that without warning a
body first!”
He snaked out a hand as quick as lightning, yanked the pillow out of her hands and
grabbed her around the waist, pulling her down atop him, rolling with her until he had
her benea
th him, her legs imprisoned within the confines of the long skirt of the dress,
her wrists pinned to the bed beside her head.
“Poor little wench,” he mumbled, and bent to rub his whiskers along her chin.
“Faith, Reaper!” she yelped. “That’s worse than sandpaper! You’re scraping off my
skin!”
“Would you rather I rubbed my chin on your…?” he began to say, but a soft
knocking on the door brought his head up and around, his amber eyes flashing.
“What?” he snarled.
“I have your breakfast, m-milord,” Mable said from the other side of the door.
“Oh dear lord!” Lea whispered. “I hope she didn’t cook it!”
Bevyn’s stomach rumbled loudly at hearing the word “breakfast”. He flung himself
off Lea and stomped to the door, slapped the lock back and jerked the panel portal
open, completely unconcerned that he was nude.
Mable’s eyes shifted down the tall man’s muscular frame—caught for a moment
between his legs—then flicked up to his face. “B-Breakfast?” she asked in a meek voice
that was barely a squeak.
The smells coming from the overloaded tray in the older woman’s hands made the
Reaper’s mouth water. He stepped aside with his jaw clenched to allow her to enter the
room.
Mable cast a quick glance at Lea, seemed relieved to see her fully dressed, and
walked over to put the tray on the small table beside the closet.
“Who cooked that, Mable?” Lea asked suspiciously. She was sitting on the edge of
the bed with her new skirt tucked decorously around her legs.
“The widow James,” Mable said. “She volunteered last evening.”
Bevyn’s mouth was watering and he was licking his lips. “Can she cook?”
“She’s the best cook in five boroughs,” Lea replied.
“Better than you?” he asked, his chin raised.
“I guess you’ll find out,” Lea said as she watched him rubbing his stomach with his
palm. “As soon as you get some clothes on, that is.”
Lea and Mable both made hissing sounds as he waved a hand and his black Reaper
uniform appeared out of nowhere to fit his body like a glove. They looked at one
another then Mable shrugged as though she saw such things every day.
“Come, wench,” Bevyn said, pulling out the chair for her.
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Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Scooting off the bed, Lea came over to him, glancing up at his handsome face. No
man had ever held a chair out for her, and not a single one of the men she’d ever come
into contact with had ever looked at her the way Bevyn was at that moment. That look
told her he’d just as soon have her for breakfast as the delicious-smelling fare sitting
before him.
“Widow James said to tell you that you can have her spare room ’til you get your
house built, milord, and that she’ll be providing all your meals for you,” Mable said.
“What’s wrong with my cooking?” Lea asked, a bit hurt.
“Your serving days are done, milady,” Mable said before Bevyn could.
“‘Milady’?” Lea questioned with a blink of her gray eyes.
“Milady,” Bevyn confirmed as he took a seat across from her.
Mable winked at her then left, closing the door firmly behind her.
“She’s going to see the blood on the sheets,” Bevyn commented as he reached for a
piece of hot buttered toast and spooned a copious amount of jam across it.
Lea’s eyes widened and she put a hand to her mouth. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
She turned to look at the bed.
“Want me to take care of it?” he asked, crunching the toast between his strong
white teeth. He chewed a few times, flicked his tongue across his lips and then told her
he could make the sheets disappear.
Staring at the bed for a moment, Lea finally shook her head. “No. It’s best everyone
know I came to your bed pure.” She met his eyes and her brows drew together when
she saw him grinning. “Why does that amuse you, milord?”
“Because I was thinking the same thing,” he said. He finished off the piece of toast
and piled jam on another, demolishing it in two big bites.
She took one of the two linen napkins on the tray and laid it in her lap. “When you
left yesterday, I was a bit concerned how folks would treat me,” she confessed.
He stopped with a heaping forkful of eggs halfway to his lips and frowned. “Why?”
Lea shrugged as she took a piece of toast and smeared it with jam. “I knew they
would know I’d spent the night with you.”
Thunderclouds shifted over the Reaper’s face. “And?” he prodded.
She bit her lip. “I was afraid they might view me as they do the other girls here.”
His fork clunked to his plate though he still kept hold of it. “They’d gods-bedamned better not view you as they do those whores!” he growled.
“They don’t!” she was quick to tell him. She held his irate stare and repeated that
the townspeople did not see her in that light.
“All right then,” he finally said, and shoveled the eggs into his mouth. He downed
three strips of bacon and the rest of the eggs before she’d barely started on her food.
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Her Reaper’s Arms
By the time she’d finished eating, he had consumed everything on the tray she
hadn’t wanted and had taken a spoon to the jam, polishing it off as though it were
dessert.
“You like sweets,” she observed.
Bevyn shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He needed his tenerse and he needed
Sustenance, but his cock was in dire need of something else and he felt like kicking
himself as he looked at the empty jam dish.
“Milord?” Lea queried.
“Wench, there are two things I need when I rise each day,” he said.
“Oh!” she said, and scraped her chair back. “I forgot about your medicine.”
He watched her go to the saddlebags and take out the vac-syringe. His heart did a
funny little squeeze as he saw her load the hypodermic then come over to him to
administer it. He held very still as she injected the fiery payload, trying his best not to
flinch but looking forward to having her massage away his pain with her cool little
fingers.
“What else do you need, milord?” she asked.
She was so close to him—her scent invading his nostrils, stirring his cock—and the
overload of sugar he’d consumed was making his shaft as hard as flint.
“Sustenance,” he managed to say, shifting again in the chair to try to relieve the
pressure of his erection.
“B-Blood?” she asked, swallowing hard.
“I usually carry some with me but I ran out and I’ve had to take…” He stopped,
looking up at her suddenly pale face. “Wench, no! I’ll not be sinking my teeth into you.
Don’t…”
“Why not?” she asked although she was trembling. “I am your mate, am I not?”
He frowned. “Aye, but…”
“Is that not my right?” she asked. “My duty to you?”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he said. “I can ride over to Clewiston. Each territory has a
refrigeration unit that houses the plastibags. The Citadel sends out Sustenance by train
on a regular basis for the Reapers. I…”
“Here,” she said, sweeping her long hair away from her neck. “It is my right and
my duty. Ta
ke from me.”
He shook his head. “No, wench. I…”
“Clewiston is an hour’s ride away,” she said. “Your hand is shaking and that will be
a long ride, now won’t it?”
Bevyn looked at her neck then shook his head again. “Don’t tempt me, milady,” he
said. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” she repeated. “Take what you need, Reaper! I demand it as my right!”
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Charlotte Boyett-Compo
A part of him needed something far different from her and the more he looked at
her beautiful neck, the more he wanted it. Before he gave it any more thought, he
hopped up from the table and scooped her into his arms, carrying her to the bed.
Lea thought he was simply lying her down so she’d be more comfortable but when
he flung her skirts up and out of the way and began fumbling with his fly, she just
stared at him.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Too…much…sugar,” he said, crawling atop her. “Entirely…too…much…sugar!”
He was inside her before Lea could react to his curious words. Full and thick and
pulsing within her, his shaft was a wondrous delight that had her circling his neck with
her arms. She was a bit sore from the previous night but his warmth inside her was
starting a fire that she realized she was eager to have spread through her.
“Is this how you want to start each day, milord?” she asked with a laugh.
“Is there a better way?” he countered, grinding his hips against her.
“You still need Sustenance,” she reminded him.
“Aye,” he said, and bent to her neck, his fangs lengthening.
Although his body was beating at him to pump wildly into her to assuage the
burning need in his cock, Bevyn had just enough patience and discipline to cloud her
mind of the pain his fangs caused as he sank them gently into her neck, impaling her,
drawing her sweet blood into his mouth. He heard her sigh and felt himself jerk inside
her.
A light mist of numbness had spread over Lea’s mind but her lower body was
responding to the hard rod sliding in and out of it. She was aware of his mouth at her
throat, could feel her life’s blood being drawn, but there was no pain. If anything, it was
highly erotic and when he swallowed, she trembled in his arms, her sheath tightening
around him.
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