My Captive Valentine

by Elyce de Reefe

  “You are more than enough, Bridget. You are everything.”

  “Good. Now take me to bed.”

  He laughed and picked her up. “I know this is the human tradition, but I’m not sure I can get you into the tent without dropping you.”

  In the end, he did get her inside, with her clutching his neck and screeching, him crawling on his knees and fumbling with the zipper one-handed. By the time they made it inside both of them were flushed and laughing. Bridget smiled up at him, feeling her heart swell. This wonderful, beautiful man was hers. Had declared himself, body and soul, in a way that she couldn’t doubt. And she couldn’t remember why she’d ever questioned it.

  So he wasn’t quite human. Some people were alcoholics. Surely this was better. Way better. For one thing, the man had hands big enough to wrap around each of her butt cheeks. That was something you couldn’t overlook.

  She smiled as he kissed his way down her neck, sending slivers of desire racing down her skin. She never felt anything like this before. It was like his touch ignited something inside. Some passion she hadn’t known she possessed.

  He unzipped her parka and helped her struggle out of it, tossing his aside too. They’d learned early on to place a small flashlight inside the little pocket that hung from the roof of the tent, so they could see at night inside the tent. He flicked it on. A soft glow enclosed them in pale golden light.

  It was chilly in the tent and she shivered. Make that very chilly. The temperature had dropped. But the walls cut the wind and with the two of them in there, she was sure it would warm up soon. Gage had placed her on one of the sleeping bags. They could snuggle inside once they’d managed to untangle themselves from their clothing. Because trying to do that the other way around... Yeah. That wasn’t going to work.

  “Are you sure, Bridget?” Gage lay next to her, propped up on one elbow. “We can stop now. But soon— I don’t think I will be able to stop if we go farther. And there is the bite.” His expression was so concerned; it melted her heart a little.

  “What’s a little bite? I just fought a two-hundred-pound pig.”

  “That pig was much larger than two hundred pounds. He was closer to three.”

  “There you go. Let’s not talk about him. At least the children had a nice meal tonight.”

  Gage smiled. “The children?”

  “The… what do you call them? The younglings?”

  “Yes, they are not quite full grown. Soon, but not quite. And they did very well today. I am proud of them.”

  Bridget stifled a laugh. “Yeah, me too. Proud and grateful.”

  “Yes. I’m grateful too.” He ran a hand gently down her cheek. “Very grateful for their help. If something had happened to you—” he broke off, gazing into her eyes. “Bridget, are you sure about this? I want to be able to feel where you are. I want to know you are well. But, if you’re not sure, I can wait. I will wait for you. There’s no pressure.”

  “Gage, you talk too much. Come here and kiss me.”

  And he did. Thoroughly. His hands roamed down her body, first over her shirt and then under it, his hands chilly against her flesh, raising goose bumps where he touched. She wondered briefly if she would regret this. If it was possible she was letting the strong emotions of the day get the best of her, but she dismissed the idea. It was hard to believe that having a man like Gage devoted to her—for the rest of her life—was something she could ever regret.

  She thought that what she wanted most in life right now was to be close to him. As close as she could possibly get. Skin to skin. Heart to heart. She wanted to feel his weight on her. She longed to feel him hold her close, wrap her in his arms and just not let go. She wanted to feel him inside her. And she realized it was a feeling she’d been fighting for a long time now.

  His long-fingered hand closed over her breast and she sighed. Her breasts felt full and heavy, as if they were craving his touch, the feel of his hands over then. It was a sensation she’d never experienced.

  He slipped two cold fingers inside the cup of her bra and brushed her nipple making her moan out loud. Little explosions of sensation shot down her body— directly to other places that seemed to be swelling and crying out for his attention. She had to fight to keep from squirming.

  This must be the ‘very pleasurable’ part. I wonder if it has something to do with their genetics or pheromones or something—

  There was a tearing sound, and Bridget jumped as a cold draft wafted up her front. She glanced down to see Gage had torn her sweater and shirt right down the middle. Ah, yes. The traditional rending of clothes. But it was still startling. Gage peeled back the two halves, exposing her middle, and knelt back on his heels gazing down on her.

  “Beautiful,” he breathed. He paused, just gazing down at her, taking her in. There was an intensity to his expression that she hadn’t seen before.

  “So lovely.” The words were reverent.

  He reached out and ran a finger delicately over the top curve of each breast, tracing along the edge of her bra. Then he brushed three fingers down her body, from hollow at the base of her throat to the waistband of her pants. The muscles of her belly jumped and rippled as his hand ran over them, and deep inside she pulsed with aching awareness.

  He leaned forward, placing tiny little nibbling kisses all down her body, his hot mouth a sharp contrast to the cold winter.

  “Gage, can we maybe pull up the covers?”

  “Yes. But, let me just…” He eyed her bra, eyes slightly narrowed.

  “Don’t even think about it. If you tear this, we are going to have words.”

  He gave a soft laugh, his dark eyes sparkling. “Take it off then.”

  She levered herself up on one elbow, reaching behind her. “This is a back-clasp bra.” Suddenly she felt awkward and exposed. The dim light from the flashlight seemed too bright. But she wanted this. Wanted him.

  She gave him a tentative smile and undid the clasp, trying to act seductive but feeling decidedly silly. The look in his eyes when she removed the bra changed that though. They were positively heated. They might even be glowing slightly— with a soft amber light.

  “Ah, Bridget,” he breathed. “You are so lovely. I am so lucky.” His large hands came down to cup her then. “Beautiful.”

  She squirmed a little. His hands were cold. “Gage. The covers.”

  “Right. One sec.” He pulled both ends of her torn shirt up behind her back and then over her arms. Then he took the two loose ends and tied them in a knot, binding her wrists together.

  “Gage! What are you doing?”

  “Ah ma puce, do not worry. This is part of the Ceremony. I forgot to mention it.”

  “You forgot?” She would have had more to say, but he placed his hands back on her breasts, squeezing them gently, then brushing his thumbs lightly over their tips.

  She squirmed, the sensations even more exquisite somehow with her hands bound and her bare flesh exposed to his touch. He glanced to her face, and a soft smile touched his lips, and then his gaze went back to his hands brushing over her breast, his expression hardening.

  She felt a hot flush of desire deep between her legs at the look on his face. It was intense. Determined. He leaned down and kissed her, then sat back and stripped his fleece and shirt over his head. Then, with negligent male nonchalance, he shucked his jeans— and wow.

  Bridget sucked in a breath. The man was packing some serious equipment. He was beautiful all over.

  He smiled at her, a warm content expression. “One more minute,” he said. “Lift your hips.” She complied and he rolled her pants gently down her body, being careful to avoid the bandage. He pulled her panties off with her pants and she felt suddenly exposed. But he was as naked as she was. He stared down at her for a moment, and then he shook his head.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  He chuckled. “We will have to be careful.”

  She eyed him. “Gage, if you don’t get over here and
warm me up right now, there are going to be consequences.”

  “Sorry.” He grinned. One of his patented sexy-as-hell Gage grins. Bridget felt her heart squeeze. The man was an outrageous flirt, but it wasn’t just for show. He was gorgeous. And for some reason, he wanted her.

  She swallowed, feeling emotion clog her throat. It was kind of amazing really. He pulled the sleeping bag around them and came down on top of her, his warm skin almost deliciously hot against hers. She shivered. This was what she wanted. His skin against hers. His weight on her. His warmth… But she couldn’t help wondering—

  “Do you think the bite will hurt?”

  “Probably. But I promise you, you’ll be too busy to mind.”

  And he set about proving his point. He touched her slowly and gently, those clever fingers gliding over her, stroking and teasing, lightly arousing until she was squirming and wriggling under him, almost panting. She didn’t know if the sensations he ignited in her had something to do with the Ceremony, or the bond, or if it was just him.

  Her body tingled with pleasure; all her nerve endings seemed to quiver as if they had awakened from some sleep. She hovered on the edge for what seemed like a long time. But she was becoming increasingly aware of an aching need deep inside her, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out.

  Just when she thought she would have to resort to begging, he kissed her and shifted so that he was lying between her legs. “Is this okay? Does it hurt?”

  “It’s fine,” she managed, sounding completely breathless.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to strain your wound.”

  “Gage,” she said through gritted teeth. “Now. Or I am going to hurt you.”

  He chuckled and slid a hand down to find her entrance. “As you wish, ma chouchoutte.”

  And then he slid into her, hot and hard and so perfect, so absolutely what she needed, that her hips rose up to meet his, the pain in her leg only a distant dissonance to the beautiful sensations filling her body.

  Oh, God. The feel of him…

  It was like this was what was meant to be, he was meant to be hers, they were meant to be together this way, and the sheer heady joy of it almost took her away.

  She pulled her bound arms down over his neck and hugged him tight while he moved slowly and steadily inside her. She wanted to wrap her legs around him and hold him to her that way too, but her leg reminded her that wasn’t a good idea. How had she not seen that they were meant to be together? She had been made for this moment.

  He was moving faster, and the cold was no longer a problem. Their rhythm was perfect, like two parts of one creature moving in unison, and all the while the pleasure was building, running up and down her body in ever increasing waves. Gage kissed and nibbled along her neck and then, suddenly, he bit down. She exploded in ecstasy, wave after wave of sensation rolling through her body. The pain was a distant counterpoint to the pleasure that coursed through her, shooting between her neck and her core then down to her toes and back up again.

  She made some kind of strangled shout and then Gage released her neck with a loud groan. He went rigid inside her and a moment later he collapsed down on top of her, but still carefully avoiding her injured leg. They lay there unable to move, Bridget enjoying the wonderful weight of him on top of her, feeling his chest move in time with hers as they both struggled to regain their breath.

  Her skin felt like it sizzled with electricity, as if she were a live socket, capable of shooting sparks in all directions. The currents seemed to race up and down her body, circling around her before sinking in beneath her skin to lie quiet.

  Gage levered himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her, a look of awe on his face. He touched her cheek, gently, sliding it down to touch her mouth. He kissed her then, soft and tender. Leaning back, he met her eyes.

  “Are you well, ma petite? How is your leg?”

  “Leg? What leg?” At least that’s what she tried to say. But what came out was more like a strangled cough.

  Gage looked alarmed. She tried to clear her throat, but it was dry as the desert, as if all the moisture had been burned from her body by the heat of their joining. She coughed again, and Gage lifted her arms over his head to roll off her. He looked truly alarmed now.

  Pulling off the shirt that was still knotted around her wrists, he stretched out, reaching for a water bottle. “Here, let me help you sit up.” He slipped an arm behind her and levered her up, which was good because her whole body seemed to have turned to jelly.

  He held the water to her lips, and she took a grateful gulp. The water slid down her throat, and she imagined she could feel the parched membranes sucking in the moisture. She paused briefly and then continued drinking until the whole bottle was empty.

  She sucked in a deep breath and Gage settled her back down on the sleeping bag. She ran her tongue over her lips. Okay. That was better. She cleared her throat. “Is that… normal?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t think so. How do you feel otherwise?”

  “Like I could sleep for a week.” She wasn’t kidding. She felt like she could close her eyes right now and just drift off…

  “Bridget.” Gage shook her shoulder gently. “Talk to me. What do you feel?”

  “Nothing. Feel fine. Tired.” She closed her eyes.

  “Bridget!” He shook her harder.

  “What?” She moaned and opened her eyes. His image swam in and out of focus, and she squinted at him. “Come to bed. It’s late.” She felt her eyelids flutter and struggled to keep them open.

  He pressed a hand to her chest, over her heart. Then he seemed to relax a little. “You feel okay? Just tired?”

  “Yes.” She groaned. “Let me sleep.”

  He gathered her close, settling her against his body, and she snuggled in, feeling languid and decadent. The heat of his body washed over her like the sun, seeping in through her skin, washing through her, relaxing all her muscles… Perfect.

  “Bridget?” He shook her gently.

  “Ummph?”

  “Bridget, how is your leg?”

  “Leg?” She couldn’t even feel her leg. “It’s fine.”

  “Bridget?”

  “Sleep,” she whined and squeezed her eyes closed. But the concern in his voice nagged at her. She made a supreme effort and blinked them open, gazing up into his concerned face. “It’s okay. I’m fine,” she enunciated carefully. Mustering her strength, she reached a hand up and stroked his dear face, smiling slightly at the feel of the stubble under her fingers. “Go to sleep.”

  He didn’t look convinced, but that was all she had at the moment. She closed her eyes and snuggled closer to the heat of him. Letting out a long sigh, she let sleep take her.

  Gage gazed down at Bridget’s sleeping face, trying to calm his panic. It was peaceful and relaxed in the soft glow of the flashlight. Lovemaking had been nothing like what he’d expected. It was way beyond anything he’d imagined. The feel of her body molding around his, the warm wet heat of her, of her body moving with his…

  And the rush of sensation when the bond formed—he’d actually felt his essence gathering within him, preparing, then racing through him like a bolt of energy— That combined with his orgasm had been enough to make him see stars.

  He’d been worried that he wouldn’t want to bite her when the time came, that he’d be too concerned about hurting her, but that hadn’t been a problem. The urge to bite had been so primal, so overwhelming, he couldn’t have stopped if he’d tried. And then everything rushed through him with a blast of pleasure so intense it rocked him to the core.

  It had been a moment before he’d gathered his senses enough to check on Bridget. And what he saw his heart seize. He was certain he’d done everything right. He’d paid careful attention to Lore Master Renau’s instructions, and watched Bridget carefully for signs that she was ready.

  And she had been. She’d said so. So what had he done wrong? Not that she looked like anything was bothering her now. Her brea
thing was soft and steady. Her heartbeat was strong and slow. Even now, he could feel the bond pulsing between them. It had taken, just as he’d known it would. He tried to let that calm him.

  A soothing sense of wellbeing seemed to whisper though it. Just the lightest trickle of feeling, but he was almost certain it was coming from the bond. For a moment, right after their lovemaking, she’d seemed fine. And then she’d coughed and gone white. No, not white. Almost blue. His heart had literally stopped beating.

  He’d never heard of that happening.

  But she’d regained her color even as she swallowed the water he gave her. He’d felt her need for water. Her body crying out for it. He had no idea why. But now she seemed fine.

  He sighed and settled down next to her, gathering her close, feeling his breathing synchronize with hers. Sleep pulled at him. He couldn’t remember ever being this tired. He could feel the bond, feel his connection to her. But he couldn’t really feel through it to her. Not yet. Only the whisper-thin sense of peace seemed float down the connection. It washed over him, and he slept.

  Gage woke the next morning to a ravenous hunger. Which wasn’t surprising, since he was still recovering from healing some pretty significant— wounds! She’d been wounded. Could that—?

  He opened his eyes, taking in the situation. Bridget still slept peacefully in his arms. Her color was good, and her vitals seemed strong. Was the hunger coming only from him, or was she leaking hunger through the bond? He tried to sense through the bond, but he was still new at it. Lore Master Renau said the skill would come with time. At the moment, all he felt was hunger.

  Well, he couldn’t know for sure until she woke, and he got a chance to look at her leg. Was it even possible? That somehow the bond, maybe bonding while she was wounded, had caused it, or perhaps his essence was trying to heal her? He felt a wave of dizziness. He just didn’t know enough. He should have insisted they wait. What if that happened and she hadn’t had enough energy to heal? He felt cold all over. All he’d given her was water.