“Fuck, yes.” Diskant continued thrusting as he mirrored her and claimed the unmarked side of her neck. His teeth sank deep and she felt her body begin to peak, that delicious warmth spreading from her womb beyond.
Then things went terribly wrong.
Pain radiated from her bones, her head, her limbs, her everything. It felt as if molten lava were trapped beneath her skin, blistering hot and boiling its way from the inside out. She relinquished her hold on his neck and cried out, agonized by the feel of his skin, his touch too much to bear. It felt like a thousand needles plunging into the skin in all the places they touched and her eyes and ears began to sting as if they were being stabbed by shards of ice.
“Stop,” she begged pitifully and closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks, forming salty trails to her chin.
Yet it didn’t stop, it worsened until she thought she’d rather die than suffer the pain any longer. The endless waves of fire in the pit of her stomach felt like a blowtorch. The breeze from the overhead ceiling fan sent waves of coolness against her bare skin that were almost too brutal to endure. The cashmere sweater she’d always adored was suddenly as coarse and rough as a Brillo pad, chafing and scratching her arms, back and stomach.
Scents took over—earth, water and forest—and then she felt an odd brush under her skin, as if something soft and velvety wanted to press through and out. The texture changed from soft to dense, from silky to coarse, as if she were being tormented by fur, skin, feather and hide. She thrashed against Diskant, unable to hold her head upright. Each new wave through her muscles was replaced by a different one, each blessedly faster and less painful that the one before.
She was aware of Diskant whispering something, promising everything would be all right as she wept uncontrollably. The pain slowly dimmed until she was able to breathe again. The agony in her eyes, ears and skin dissipated, leaving her a shivering mass in his embrace. She blinked back the wet tears on her lashes, wondering if she was dreaming.
What in the hell just happened?
“Diskant?”
“It’s over, Ava mine.” His expression was harsh and his eyes flashed oddly, going from amber, to emerald, to silver.
“What happened? What was that?”
He shook his head and slowly pulled away from her until only the tip of his cock was embedded in her pussy. Just as carefully pushed back inside. Even with new and strangely sensitized skin there was no pain now, only pleasure. Again he withdrew and returned—harder this time. With each thrust, thoughts of what transpired fled, replaced by newer, better memories.
“Stop distracting me.” She contradicted her request by arching her hips, taking him deeper. “It’s not fair.”
“Can’t help it.” He increased the pace.
“Diskant…”
Logic told her this was insane. She’d just suffered something she couldn’t explain and she was willing to let it slide because of this new inner calling that demanded she take him into her body, claim his seed, mark him as her own…
“Come with me, baby.” He ignored the worry in her voice and the question in her eyes. His clawed fingers dug into her hips, guiding her into a crazed rhythm. “You need this and so do I.”
He bucked his pelvis and she ground against him. Release was so close, all she had to do was reach out, take hold and claim it. She wrapped her arms around Diskant’s neck and allowed him to set the pace, relying on his strength, trusting he would be the one to take them there.
They climaxed together, his cry deep and hoarse, hers soft and muted. The tension left over from the odd ordeal disappeared, muscles going soft, leaving her sated and content. She reveled in the way he felt inside her, basking in the rightness of his weight against her, the heaviness just enough to keep her trapped but not so much that she couldn’t breathe.
She lifted her head and was stunned to find a still-oozing bite at his neck—with visible teeth marks. Slowly, the sounds coming from the club registered. She waited for panic or embarrassment at engaging in sex inside a very public place, but surprisingly, none came.
“You’re like a drug,” he murmured into her ear before nipping the lobe. “So damned addictive that no matter what I do I can’t get enough.”
“It’s your fault, not mine.” Frowning at the stark mark on his tanned skin, she asked, “What have you done to me?”
The question got an immediate, jolting reaction. Diskant froze, his chest going still as he held his breath. Suddenly the muscles against her weren’t yielding but as hard as stone, the weight keeping her trapped against the wall becoming ten times heavier.
After a tense moment, he said, “We need to talk,” withdrew from her body, and placed her on unsteady feet. The loss of his presence was more than physical. It was as if he’d blocked off another part of himself as well.
Confused and embarrassed, she’d bent down to retrieve her things when he asked, “How do you know about shifters?”
After everything that had transpired she wasn’t sure what she’d expected but it certainly wasn’t this. Anger came then, glorious and ball-breaking in its intensity.
“After everything that’s happened, don’t you think I should be the one asking the questions?”
He lifted his head, fingers motionless over the fastenings of his leathers. It dawned on her then that they were both half clothed inside a bar that catered to shifters, having had explosive sex where everyone could not only hear them, but could probably smell them as well. Not to mention she still had no idea what in the hell was going on, and Diskant seemed to constantly be directing her thoughts to pleasurable pursuits that distracted her from thinking about anything else.
“There is a room full of shifters out there waiting for an answer to that question,” he finally said. “I need to know what to tell them.”
“Well, isn’t that sweet? Looking out for your fellow furry friends,” she replied in a cool, jaded tone. “If only the rest of us were given the same courtesy.”
“Damn it, Ava,” he growled and readjusted his shirt. “There isn’t time for this.”
She separated her panties from the jeans and pulled them on, well aware of the wetness dripping from her sex as a result of his seed and her release. She went still for a moment, struck dumb by a thought that both frightened and excited her. For the first time, she considered something she should have thought of from the start, especially when you weighed the nature of their relationship thus far.
Could a human and shifter procreate? Was it possible to get pregnant? She’d always wanted children, had hoped that one day she’d have three or four of her own. Was it possible to have a family with someone like Diskant?
Like everything else, the notion was placed to the side. A complication that her overly stimulated body and mind stored away for another, more fucked-up time.
Furious with herself for being concerned about things she couldn’t change after the fact, she quipped, “But there is always time to fuck, right?
The breath caught in her throat and she gasped when he crossed the distance, grabbed her by the arms and held her against the wall. The barrier erected between them was obliterated and she was aware of several things, but it was one—and only one—thing she perceived that both terrified and exhilarated her.
She was aware of Diskant for the first time.
Even though he had her pinned against the wall, it was concern—not contempt—that had caused him to place physical, emotional and mental distance between them.
He was scared for her, worried he had pushed her too far.