“Ah, gods, meli. You’re so tight, so wet. So…” His hips pulled back, then thrust again, this time harder. “Perfect.”
She should have been tense—she’d seen how huge he was that night at her house when he’d been injured and naked, lying on her grandmother’s comforter, had felt him grow in her hand when she’d stroked her fingers up and down his rigid length. And it had been a long time for her. But as she felt him press inside, one slow inch at a time, and they both groaned at the tight, slick contact, she breathed out a sigh at the rightness of the moment.
Oh, yes.
His kiss was hot. Wet. Sinful. He pushed in slowly, each move a snug glide and retreat, until finally, finally he was seated deep and they both paused to catch their breath.
This was what she wanted. Him. With her like this. Locked tight together, the outside world nothing but a memory.
His eyes found hers, and the tenderness she saw there cut all the way to her soul. She lifted a hand and ran it over his stubbled jaw. “Theron.”
He withdrew, thrust, kept his eyes fixed on hers as his strokes grew harder, deeper, longer. His jaw clenched. A vein pulsed in his neck. Sweat dripped from his temple to splash across her breasts. She kicked her head back and moaned in sheer pleasure at his thickness plowing into her again and again. And just as she felt the peak building, he rolled to his back, pulled her on top and grasped her hips, teaching her a rhythm that nearly had her seeing double.
Her climax built, fast and urgent. And with him guiding her, she had no choice but to let go and ride the wave. It crashed over her, once, twice, three times, until she was sure she couldn’t take any more. And even then it went on. Rippling through every cell in her body until all thought blew right out of her brain.
The adrenaline that had fueled her temper earlier shifted, lagged, broke. She heard him call her name, registered his length pulsing deep inside just before she collapsed onto his chest. Drawing air into her suddenly-too-small lungs, she felt his fingers digging into her hips, holding her tight to him as his body shuddered beneath her.
He was breathing hard himself and growing soft inside her. She tightened her muscles to hold him in, not ready to have him go just yet.
He groaned. “Meli, if you keep doing that, you won’t get any sleep at all tonight.”
She smiled. Released. Contracted again. His answering moan had an electrifying effect on her.
“Sleep’s overrated.”
He ran a hand down her back. “I think you did mention that. Briefly.”
God, she loved the way he touched her. She let out a contented sigh. “If that’s the way Argoleans have sex, I can see why I was your first human.”
His hand slid down her spine to cup her ass before gently rolling her over. One thrust of his hips and she knew all her tightening had done its work.
He kissed her neck. Her jaw. Her lips. “Trust me when I say that wasn’t normal, even for an Argonaut.” He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened for him, then dipped in and took his fill. “I hope you were serious about not being tired, because where you’re concerned, I can’t seem to stop myself.”
She held on tight as he thrust, retreated, thrust again with those gorgeous hips and that growing erection. And tried not to read too much into his words. “Ah, Theron. I love how fast you heal.”
He chuckled against her neck. “Like that, do you?”
“Yes.”
His smile widened. “So do I.”
She gave herself up to his kiss. And ignored the tingling around her birthmark, now growing to explosive levels.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Theron stared at the ceiling long after Acacia fell asleep.
Gods, he liked this. Way too much. Her, here in his bed. Hidden away from the world. Warm and snug and his.
His. There was a word. The irony was like a knife to the stomach.
He rolled to his side so he could watch her sleep and knew they didn’t have long. The king had probably already called the rest of the Argonauts together. What he’d said in the king’s chambers—with Zander as a witness—would be considered treason. He fully expected one of his kin to come charging in at any moment and drag him away.
He could hear their discussion now. Cerek the peacemaker would convince the rest not to take action until the morning. They’d come at first dawn. Play to Theron’s sense of honor. If that didn’t work, Gryphon would crack a joke about getting the king good, in a lame attempt to lighten the mood. Zander wouldn’t care one way or the other—so long as what happened to Theron didn’t affect him. And Demetrius…yeah, Demetrius would be pushing to have Theron hanged.
Too late, Theron realized he’d never told his Argonauts how much he respected them. Though they served together, fought together, none of them were close. And as he looked down at Acacia, sleeping on her stomach with both arms tucked under her, her face tipped his way and one of her legs intertwined with his, he realized he’d never even thought of his Argonauts as separate individuals before. To him, they’d always been nothing more than fighters in a war they’d all been trained for. But now? Now it was as if his eyes had been opened.
He brushed a finger down Acacia’s cheek, watched her back rise and fall in deep sleep. Studied the way her lashes formed spiky crescent shapes on her pale cheeks. Her courage still awed him. Last night she’d been ready to take him on. There was no other female in the universe who would dare stand up to him when he was in one of his moods, but it hadn’t stopped her. She was fearless. And as selfless as he’d told the king. Everything he’d never wanted but now couldn’t imagine living without.
He’d known she was his from the first taste. Long before he’d ever slid deep inside her. If he’d been more in tune with his humanity, he would have recognized it the first time he’d kissed her back in her small house. But he hadn’t. Because he’d needed her to unlock that side of him he’d always repressed.
She was his curse. His soul mate. His life. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to keep her from dying.
His finger ran down her shoulder, over her back until he found the sheet covering her gorgeous ass. He gripped the cotton and pulled it down, then eased up on an elbow and looked at her marking.
Gods, it was fading. In a matter of days, it would be gone.
His chest squeezed tight, and though he wanted nothing more than to slide back inside her and wake her from the inside out, he knew he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. She needed to save her strength, not use it up pleasuring him.
One glance at the window told him the moon was setting and morning would be here soon. Careful, so as not to wake her, he pulled the covers up around her shoulders and headed for the shower.
Her scent all over his body was distracting and arousing at the same time. As he lathered and rinsed under the hot spray, he told himself he was doing the right thing. The king had been correct on one count. Sometimes a great sacrifice is necessary.
He cut the water, grabbed a towel and dried his hair. After toweling off his legs, he pulled on new jeans, lifted the terry to his shoulders and froze.
Someone was outside on his porch.
Skata, he’d been wrong. They’d come for him already.
A deep male voice echoed through the closed doors. Followed by Acacia’s surprised and wary one.
His heart rate jerked.
No. He was wrong. They’d come for her.
Casey sensed she wasn’t alone even before she came fully awake.
She sat bolt upright and stared into the darkness. A candle flared on the low table across the room, illuminating the man seated near the fireplace.