We began to spin, around and around he twirled me as his chest pressed against my breasts. I gasped, trying to clear my head, then pulled him to the bed. He loomed over me, his lips seeking my breasts as his fingers danced their way onto my clit. As he stroked my fire, I cried out and grasped his shoulders.
“You’re the golden man,” I whispered. “You taste like honey, sweet and warm and rich and thoroughly fine.”
“And you’re my queen, and you taste like moonlight and starflowers and the echo of birds at sunset.”
He lowered himself to the outer lips of my pussy, setting off a string of explosions. Firecrackers sizzled one after another along my body, and all I could think about was that Trillian was about to slide his gorgeous, smooth cock into me and how much I wanted every inch of him, in every possible way.
“Fuck me,” I begged him. “Don’t make me wait any longer, please fuck me. Hard. Take me hard and rough—I don’t want gentle.”
Trillian let out a guttural laugh and plunged, driving himself into my core.
Under a shower of sparks that ricocheted through my body, I moaned and shifted my hips as he picked up the pace, pumping gently at first, then grinding into me, each thrust sending me into a shockwave of pleasure.
As we rode the wave, I began to notice through the sex haze that my skin was hurting. I glanced at Trillian’s shoulder and gasped. The silver markings had begun to writhe, they were boiling like a swarm of creatures across his body and I knew that my own runes were doing the same. But the friction of our heat pulled my attention back to him.
I clung to him as he thrust, deep and hard with that silken cock of his. His skin was warm against mine, a perfect fit and in some little corner of my mind, I realized that I’d never had it so good in bed, never felt the same sense of connection before.
Everybody else saw me as the rock, the anchor, or—in the case of men—just a good fuck to hook up with and leave behind. But Trillian’s eyes gazed at my soul; he was staring down at me and he was seeing me. All of me—both sides of my heritage, and he didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.
As thought began to slip away, and I came to the edge, the markings on my body began to burn. I let out a sharp cry as Trillian grunted, wincing.
“What’s happening?” I flailed, unable to stop either the pain or the rush toward orgasm. Every rune had become a flaming brand and with every move, their flames grew brighter.
“The ritual—it’s part of the ritual,” Trillian gasped out. “Can’t stop…would…kill us…”
Everything took on the color of violet fire as the magical silver on our bodies burrowed deep beneath the skin, hissing and tattooing themselves through muscle and skin. Goading me with as much pleasure as pain, they pushed me toward the edge, toward the final release.
And then I looked up at Trillian. But instead of seeing his face, I realized I was looking through his eyes at myself. The braid that had spontaneously bound us had melted into a thick cord of silver and flame and passion and lust. The beating of his heart synchronized with mine, and in that moment, I felt his spirit pass through me and back into himself. Then, in a cascade of silver fire, came release.
The pain subsided as we lay there, exhausted. I shivered and Trillian drew the blankets up to cover us. He slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. The markings had disappeared from the surface of our skin, but they were there, beneath muscle and bone, tattooed into our spirits, binding us forever.
“What next?” I asked. “Where will this lead? What’s going to happen now?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I only know that you belong to me. You are mine, Camille. Even if you share yourself with others, you’ll always belong to me. I’m your alpha. I’m your mate.”
As he spoke, an image flashed through my head. A dragon circled overhead as a fox watched from below. Quickly the images came, and just as quickly, they were gone. I blinked, wiping my eyes. I was tired and spent. But in my heart, I knew that they related to the future—to our future. Just like I knew that a shadow loomed, waiting for me to discover it. And Trillian would be there to help me weather the approaching storm.
But I left all of that unsaid. Instead, I kissed him back, savoring the taste of his lips on mine. “Yes, I belong to you. And you belong to me. You saved my life, you saved me from humiliation at my boss’s hand. And I think…you saved me from myself.”
“What do you mean?” His voice was low.
I let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. But in time I think I’ll understand. And for some reason, the idea of that knowledge makes me very much afraid.”
“Hush,” he said, tapping me on the nose. “Don’t worry about what might happen. Live for today. There may be no tomorrow, so for now, enjoy what we have and revel in it. I know I’m going to.”
Trillian sought my lips again, and in the silver fire of his kiss, I forgot about visions and shadows and the future. For now, there was only his touch and my touch, and the merging of souls and bodies.
HUMAN NATURE
Eileen Wilks
Note: Readers who are following my Lupus series will want to know that the action in “Human Nature” falls at the same time as some of the events of Night Season. While Cynna and Cullen were off having adventures, Lily and Rule had their hands full, too.
Chapter 1
The blouse was silk, crimson, and new. The blood was crimson, too.
Lily looked down at her ruined blouse, grimaced, and slid out of her government-issue Ford. She ought to put on her jacket. It was too damned chilly for April, dammit, and the jacket would hide the blood and her shoulder holster. She tried to avoid alarming the neighbors, which both blood and gun were apt to do—but the blood was still damp.
Bad enough she’d ruined the blouse. She didn’t want to ruin her jacket, too. It wasn’t new, but it fit like a dream.
Good thing she didn’t have far to go. Wonder of wonders, there had actually been a parking spot only two houses down from the pleasant two-story row house where she was staying while in Washington, D.C…. which had been way too long. She missed San Diego. She missed the heat. She missed her cat, her grandmother, her father. She even missed her sisters. And maybe, though she was sure it was a sign of imminent mental collapse, she actually missed her mother.
Lily could have parked around back. There was a single-car garage off the alley with room for a second vehicle behind the first if you left the garage door open and didn’t mind having the rear of your car jut slightly into the alley. But then getting the other car out—Rule’s Mercedes—would be a pain, and she had places to go in that car tonight.
It was her birthday. She intended to celebrate, dammit.
Lily stabbed her key into the lock, entered, and shut and locked the door behind her. Rule was at the back of the house. That was one of the cool things about the mate bond: she knew where he was. The direction, anyway, and in a rough sense the distance.
“Sorry I’m late,” she called as she sped for the stairs. “I need to shower and change, but I’ll hurry.”
“They’ll hold the reservation.”
The man who’d spoken came out of the dining room that bridged the parlor with the kitchen. His black dress shirt was unbuttoned at the neck. His black dress slacks broke at just the right point on his black shoes. His hair stopped just short of black, being mink brown, thick, and a bit long for current fashion. He had a lean face, sharp-featured, with a sensuous mouth and eyes the same color as his hair. The dark slashes of his eyebrows mirrored the pitch of his cheekbones.