by L. R. W. Lee
He stays that way for a full minute before looking up. Silver lines his eyes as he says, “I didn’t mean to, Pell. I really didn’t. But I understand, and I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
I grip the towel and swallow. It’s clear he’s not used to apologizing. He’s a god, for pity’s sake. He’s existed for millennia, and I doubt many, if any, have ever challenged him.
But he’s apologizing… to me. My heart overflows. “I accept.”
His shoulders relax, and hopefulness fills those beautiful eyes. “You have my word that I won’t pretend to know what’s best for you in the future. I’ll… I’ll tell you everything. And whatever happens, we’ll work through it together.”
I bite my lip. He means it, his eyes have an earnestness about them.
He draws a hand to his chest. “I also swear to you that other than the secret that secret magic will not allow me to expose, I’ve withheld nothing from you. I am an open book to you.”
A corner of my mouth hitches remembering the first time he told me that, after I’d looked through his apartment. I choked on a french fry. But I’ve never seen him this open and honest. The god of secrets truly is an open book… at least to me.
His apology speaks volumes about him and who he really is down deep. I started trusting him… implicitly… almost from the beginning. I couldn’t explain it at the time because it was so counter to my nature, but maybe, just maybe, our bond understood this already. It’s just taking time for this side of him to be revealed. Whatever it is, it fills me with hope.
My leg finds his thigh under the table, and I brush it.
Silence falls for several seconds during which Harpoc pushes the dried jerky away from the banana peel on his plate.
“What is it?” I ask, stilling his hand with mine.
He swallows. “In the garden the other day…. You knew you were… falling for me.” He looks into my eyes. “It was so hard not to react, to let on that I heard that thought. But when you… missed me this morning…” His words hang on the air. “And, while bathing, you… you dreamed of a future with me… with us.” He runs his free hand over mine.
My stomach quivers, and I squeeze his hand, confirming it.
“I couldn’t come quickly enough. I had to see you, talk to you.”
“But Aimil forbid you from leaving.” A corner of my mouth hitches.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head, the consummate picture of the longsuffering saint. Except he’s no saint, I’ve no delusions of that.
He wags his eyebrows. “I have far more fun than saints.”
I snort. “What exactly happened at the scarabs anyway?”
Aimil said he’d gotten sprayed with those vermin’s toxin, but how? He’s a god.
“I was distracted, out of my mind with worry, about what her guards were doing to you.”
He catches my gaze. He was distracted because of me. I swear my heart pitter-patters with affection, not that I wanted him hurt, because that’s the last thing I want, but still.
I distracted him.
He sighs, like he’s confessing a huge weakness. “It’s not logical or rational when it comes to you.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t help myself, Pell.” I bite my lip when he looks straight into my eyes. “I love you.”
Those fairies in my gut go wild. And their intensity only increases when he leans in and his soft lips find mine.
“Your worry about me distracted you?” I smile against his lips, savoring his citrus-with-a-hint-of-cloves smell.
“You’ve no idea.” It comes out breathy.
“I think I do, because I was frantic when those creatures had you down and surrounded, and you didn’t answer.”
I feel his lips smile back. “Do tell.”
I don’t. I show him instead, leaning into the kiss.
“I am falling for you, Harpoc,” I say a minute later when I pull back and stare into his beautiful gold and silver eyes. “But I need to be honest. It’s only been twelve days that we’ve known each other. I’m still… adjusting.”
He smiles. “There’s no rush. You take as long as you need. I have more than enough love for both of us.” He leans in again. His tongue asks permission, and I open to him and together we dance a dance in which everything but Harpoc fades away. It’s a dance of seeking and exploring.
Mate.
My mate.
He loves me. I can’t stop the tears that well up.
He whispers, “Would you let me show you… fully?”
He pulls away only long enough for me to reply with a nod.
Then he pushes his chair back and pulls me onto his lap in one smooth motion.
I slide my arms around his neck and brush my lips against his.
His hands find their way under my T-shirt, then up my bare skin that’s burning with desire for him, until they’ve found my breasts and are tenderly fondling them.
He groans, and I feel something harden against my thigh.
He chuckles when I reach one hand down to find a hard bump under his black pants.
I furrow my brow making him laugh again.
“My Pell.” He brushes my face, eyes lit with adoration. Somehow it doesn’t feel as uncomfortable.
But his laugh turns into a quick inhale when I brush that bump.
A corner of my mouth hitches, and I do it again to the same result.
“Soon,” he says, his tone strangled.
My stomach quivers.
“But first.” He pulls my T-shirt up, and I raise my arms. It’s over my head and on the floor in no time.
Long-held instincts kick in, and for a second I start to cover my chest. But I stop myself and instead drop my arms, making a smile bloom on his face.
“My little harpy, I’m so proud of you.” He gently brushes my stray locks behind an ear and warmth fills me. He leans back in his chair, and his hungry eyes roam over my chest, then up to my face.
For once, I don’t shy away.
“My mate… your body is so beautiful.” His hands resume their ministrations, circling, then stroking my peaked nipples.
I can’t hold back a moan as the sensations light a fire between my legs and I arch into him as his mouth replaces one hand.
He begins sucking, then licking my nipple in earnest. He’s done it before, but somehow this feels different, better, because for the first time, I feel… connected to him. My mate.
I run my fingers through his onyx waves as his lips and tongue do more amazing things, moving up to my neck and gently nipping. But then he scoops me up in his arms and heads for the bedroom and that oversize bed of his.
Birds squawk, no doubt peeping through the windows and remarking on the two strange birds that have taken up residence.
But then he lays me down ever so gently on the side of the bed I haven’t rumpled and kneels beside me, catching my lips in his quickly, before dragging his teeth and tongue down my cheek to my neck.
He’s a god. He’s kneeling…
“Only to you, my love. Only to you.” It sounds nearly like a prayer.
I need to feel his skin against mine, see him bare to know this is real, so I sit up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed so I can grab the lapels of his duster. I push his coat off his shoulders and he helps it fall to the floor behind him.
His eyes dance as I grab the bottom of his black T-shirt, practically ripping it from his pants, and help it over his head.
I’m ready to run my hands over his muscled chest, feel his tone shoulders, trace his tattoo with a finger.
But he’s ravenous, and before I can lower my arms, he leans in and catches my breast in his teeth and starts sucking again, then pulls me close with a strong, toned arm while his other hand resumes fondling.
But we’re not yet chest to chest, skin to skin.
I want. I need, to feel him against me.
So I push him back. “Floor.”
He smiles, then grabs me around the waist and lowers us both until I’m atop him.
Want. Need.
I arch into him, then moan as my breasts feel his firm chest, savor his smooth skin against mine, the hard muscle.
Real. This is real.
He loves me.
“With all my heart, Pell,” he murmurs, running a calloused hand up and down my bare back.
“But I promised to show you fully”—he grins—“and I intend to.”
Chapter Forty-Four
My stomach lurches. I’ve never gone anywhere near… all the way…
He rolls me to one side, and his hands drop to the top of my pants.
We’re going to…
“We certainly are.” Passion laces his words. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve wanted to appreciate every delicious inch of you and hear you moan my name as I do.”
I clutch his hair; it’s all I can do to steady myself as his hands make quick work of the buttons, and then he’s sliding my pants and underwear down to my thighs and running a hand over my bare butt.
I moan. I can’t help it because that place between my thighs feels like it’s on fire, and he’s stoking it even hotter.
“Help me…,” he says, tugging at my pants. I kick them and the lacy undies off so I’m left in nothing but socks, which he quickly dispenses with.
He doesn’t stop me when I push him back and reach for his pants. In fact, he kisses the top of my head when I undo the first button, then the next and next and next, pulling them down, along with his briefs until… the fullness of him… unfurls.
Yes, unfurls. That’s a good word for it because… I inhale sharply as I take in the… full erect size of him.
I’ve never seen… erect…
My mate.
He wriggles out of the rest of his pants and briefs, then lies back, arm under his head, and I look into his eyes.
“You can touch me, if you like,” he says, eyes dancing.
I lick my lips as I take in his manhood, then run a finger across the tip, and find it wet.
“Oh, Pell,” he moans. His hands fist.
I smile, then trace a path down his ample length, to which he groans. I do it again and again, loving the sounds he makes.
But a minute later, he rolls up onto his knees, straddling me, then eases my legs apart. “Can’t have you tormenting me,” he chuckles.
My hips buck as he leans forward and places the tip of him right where I’m burning, but that heat, that fervor comes from deeper inside me.
“This will hurt a bit,” he cautions. Worry lines his eyes as he adds, “Your first time…”
Of course he knows I’m a virgin.
“I’ll go slow. Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”
I nod as I grip his forearms.
He presses himself against me, and a different burning sensation takes over as my body stretches. I take a deep breath, hoping it will end soon.
Harpoc stops, wrinkling his brow. “Are you okay?”
With his pushing halted, the pain eases.
I shift, trying to accommodate him, before bobbing my head. “Keep going.”
My hands grab his muscled arms more firmly as he resumes easing into me.
There’s so much of him. How will he fit?
A corner of his mouth hitches, and he reaches up and smoothes back hair from my face.
The gesture distracts me from the unpleasant sensations, and I grab his hand and kiss it.
He’s not yet fully in me when the discomfort ends as quickly as it starts. I’m not sure who’s more relieved when he says, “It’s done. You’ll never feel that again.”
I blow out a breath. And as I do, the original burning, that flame that made it feel like I might burn up, reignites.
He must sense it because he presses against me and doesn’t stop until he’s fully inside.
I feel full… of him… and it feels… good. It feels right.
My eyes go wide as he pulls back, then pushes in. Sensations I’ve never ever conceived of flare—it’s the only way I can describe it because it feels like a volcano is about to explode.
Harpoc beams.
He pulls back and pushes in again, and again, and again. The sensations grow and grow until words escape me, and I’m coming out of my skin.
“Let go, love.” It comes out a purr.
His words are my undoing as he pumps one more time, triggering that volcano in my core.
“Harpoc,” I yell, clutching his arms for dear life in an eruption of feeling.
He pumps again and again.
Sensations overload, then short circuit my brain. I’ve no idea who or where I am.
I’m flying, soaring, boundless.
I half hear him bellow my name as he pounds into me again and again.
I’ve no idea how long, but at some point consciousness reasserts itself, and I start gliding back to the ground, back to him.
I’m panting, so is he, still in me, when I look up into his beautiful eyes again.
I’ve never seen him smile so broadly, and I reach up and trace his lips.
“My mate.” I love the way it sounds.
“My mate,” he echoes, then nips at my fingers, before grabbing my hand and kissing each one.
I haven’t fully caught my breath when he finally pulls out, but before I can object to the emptiness, he scoops me up and lays me on the bed, placing my legs over his shoulders.
I inhale sharply when his tongue finds that center of me that burned.
“Harpoc.” I grab the gray covers.
A purr rumbles from deep inside him, and he licks again. That lick might as well be a match striking because heat instantly ignites inside me.
Another lick and my hips buck.
Another, and I’m panting.
“Oh, Harpoc…” It comes out a moan as I fist the covers.
“I love to hear you moan my name.” Another purr.
Another lick.
“Harpoc.” I can barely form words.
He adds his fingers, pumping inside me, as his tongue keeps running over that very sensitive bump at my core.
I moan. “Mate.”
But when he sucks on—
I arch off the bed as another volcanic explosion erupts inside me, shattering my consciousness into thousands of pieces, like ash. His fingers and tongue keep moving, licking, stroking.
I’m trembling, half crying, limp with pleasure by the time reality returns to me.
He gently places my legs back on the bed and rises, looking my naked body over, before giving me a slow, satisfied male smile.
I have no words.
“My mate.” It comes out a snarl as he finds his place beside me on the bed and curls around me.
_______
I wake, naked in his arms atop the covers, as morning light again hits me squarely in the eyes, but I don’t dare move or I’ll disturb Harpoc whose breathing is still slow and even.
My mate. He’s mine.
Harpoc’s hand squeezes my waist where it’s spent the night.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“How can I not when you call me that, my love?”
I rotate, then smile as I take in that grin, his messy hair, that scruffy chin, and half-open eyes. He’s too cute. And that’s all it takes for heat to ignite between my legs despite a bit of soreness.
His hand, lazily slung over me, starts idly stroking my bare back, and I’m ready to go.
“What have I started?” he asks, a corner of his mouth hitching.
“Too much for an old guy?” I snort.
His hand is between my legs a second later, rubbing in just the right place.
I lose myself three separate times, Harpoc an equal number, before we come up for air.
As we lie panting, sanity finally reasserting itself, the questions I’ve had about bonds bubble up. I need to know more.
He grins. “I’m the god of secrets not of bonds. I’ve no idea why we’ve been bonded or much else about them. I only know that we now share a very intimate connection... that I quite love
.”
My stomach flutters. “How will you seal secrets now that I’ll be able to listen in on your thoughts?”
“Looks like you’ll be a party to them, if you want to be.”
To himself he says, “That certainly adds an interesting twist to things.”
“What if I disapprove of the secret a being wants to seal and refuse to be a part?”
Harpoc pauses. “I honestly don’t know.”
We lie tangled together, me enjoying the feel of his skin against mine, for several minutes. He’s, no doubt, considering the ramifications of my involvement in secret sealing.
We get up, not bothering to dress. But I can’t stand morning breath, so I avail myself of the toothbrush Nuria left, while Harpoc conjures one out of thin air and does the same.
I appreciate his trim physique and firm butt that I just want to grab every time I see it, as he runs that brush around his mouth.
He grins, mouth full of foam.
Cocky bastard.
He just wags his dark eyebrows in response.
When we emerge from the bathroom, there’s a French press of coffee along with cinnamon rolls waiting for us on the small table in the bedroom, and I moan as I take a sip.
“Orgasmic, I see.” He grabs his cup and takes a taste. “It’ll do, but I’d rather make you moan myself.”
I snort, because for the first time, I know exactly what he can make me feel. “Afraid of a little competition?”
His eyes dance, clearly sizing up his opponent.
I set my cup down and school my face, then focus my thoughts on toe fungus so I don’t betray myself because I’m seriously cracking up—I’m going to do something inhibited little old me would never consider.
I motion him forward, lazily extending and retracting my pointer finger—my version of seduction.
I crack myself up, me seductive.
He gives me a feral grin as he leans in.
I whisper in his ear, “Last night, you promised to show me how to listen to your most intimate and private thoughts.” I drag out those two words as I slowly run my fingers across my naked chest.
His manhood stirs and starts to rise again.
“Teach me,” I purr.
Chapter Forty-Five
A throaty rumble comingles with my higher pitched laughter as he sets his cup down, then grabs my forearms and guides me fast and swift back to the bed, eyes dancing.