And the bond couldn’t form without both parties’ consent.
“But it’s different between you and me.” She rose to her feet as well. “You said it yourself—when we join, your people get a boost in energy. And from what I can tell, it seems to be spread evenly between your people and mine. My guess is that those other men weren’t strong enough, so the energy just flowed one way. With us, it’s different. Just the two of us together yesterday made a difference. Marina told me this morning that the black rot has almost disappeared. Gaspar’s telling everyone it’s a miracle, she said. And last night the fishers brought in a huge catch, the biggest in years.”
He swung around to eye her. “This is true? Swear it.”
“It’s true.” She touched her breastbone.
“It could be a coincidence.”
“Stars, Dion, what will it take to open your mind?”
“All right,” he said. “Suppose it’s true. If this energy exchange is mutual, why are you so weak? And it’s not just because of Xavier—it started before you tried to heal him.”
“I’m not sure. Part of it was being underground for two weeks—and remember, you didn’t touch me until the last day. But my guess is that we need to consciously direct it, the way I do at the midsummer ritual. That’s why I need you at the ritual.”
“Stop right there.” He threw up a hand, palm out. “I never promised to take part in your ritual.”
“Please, Dion. Hear me out. This is the answer, I know it is. The two of us can proclaim our mate bond there. I’ll draw the sun’s energy and together, we’ll use it to replenish both our peoples.”
Or, he thought cynically, she could drain his entire clan’s energy in one fell stroke. What she asked required trust—and he might want to fuck her, but he was damned if he’d entrust her with not only his life-energy, but his entire clan’s.
“No. It’s too unpredictable. Even if it’s true that the two of us having sex somehow benefits my people, who knows if that will continue? Because mostly it’s been a one-way street—a slow, unending suck from us to you until we’re weak…sick…dying. I can’t take the chance.”
Her chest heaved. “Damn it, Dion. This will work. I know it will.”
He gazed back at her without speaking.
“All right.” She took a deep breath and rubbed her palms over her arms. “I—there’s something you need to know. Xavier wouldn’t be sick if it weren’t for me. He’s going to die if we don’t do something.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “What do you mean? And I want the truth, woman.”
“I mean you’re right, Dion. I’m taking energy from Xavier. I’ve been taking energy from your men, and probably even from some of the women through their men. I realized it yesterday when I went to heal Xavier. I saw the flow—in my direction.” Her big eyes met his pleadingly. “I swear I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. All I could do was slow it down.”
He stared at her. At last she’d admitted it—flat out, with no equivocations. He should have felt a grim satisfaction, but instead he felt depressed, drained, as if the last drop of hope had been squeezed from him. And not just his hope that she could help Xavier. No, this was the last, stupidly optimistic cry of his heart, which against all evidence had still been praying that somehow, someway, the two of them could work this out.
He released her and paced away. “So he’s going to die,” he said flatly.
“No. Not if we join. We have to accept the mate bond and then together, we can feed energy into your clan.”
“Like hell. There has to be another way.”
“So you refuse to even try?”
“That’s right.”
She muttered something that sounded like “pigheaded fada” and turned to leave. “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”
“Not so fast.” His mind was roiling, but he was damned if she was going to walk out on him. They might never be mates but that didn’t mean she wasn’t his for the next two days. He grasped her arm, spinning her to face him. “We have some unfinished business, you and me.”
They stared at each other for a long, charged moment.
Then she glanced at his hand and raised a brow, the haughty queen once more. Everything masculine in him rose in response. His blood pounded in his veins. His breath seared in and out of his lungs.
If she knew how that haughty look roused the dominant male animal in him, goading him to show her who her master was. He itched to jerk her up against his body, fist his hand in her braid and take her mouth in deep, drugging kisses until she was whimpering with need. And then he’d bend her over a chair and take her fast and hard until she understood just how hazardous it was to provoke a fada male…
She looked back at his face and whatever she saw there made her swallow audibly. “Remember your promise, Dion.”
“But of course.” He repeated it back to her, and her eyes widened. He nodded. “I see you understand.”
She took a step back, then another and another, he following until her back was against the wall with him so close he could feel her body heat all down his front—his chest, his thighs, and most of all his groin. So close he could see how large and black her pupils were, the irises thin amber bands around the outside. So close he could scent the tang of her arousal.
And even now, with him crowding her against the wall, she didn’t betray a hint of fear. No, she lifted her chin and looked down her straight patrician nose at him. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll suck out all your energy?”
His mouth quirked in spite of himself. Damn, he loved her spirit. “Not if it’s just for a couple of days. It’s the mate bond I’m worried about. That kind of connection can never be broken; even if it were hurting my people I wouldn’t be able to sever it. But for two days”—he moved a shoulder—“I’m willing to take a chance.” He placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her in…and smiled.
She finally seemed aware of the danger she was in. Her eyes went even larger, if that were possible. She moistened her lower lip and his whole body went rock-hard. He had plans for that luscious red mouth. He hadn’t forgotten how she’d boasted of her skills that first night.
“Dion,” she said, “I—”
“Oh, no, querida,” he crooned. “You can’t talk your way out of this one.”
He moved closer so that his erection nudged her abdomen. “You could call your guards, of course. They’d love to have a chance to beat the hell out of me. Or you can take what you have coming. Which will it be, minha rainha?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dion’s body crowded Cleia’s against the wall, two hundred-plus pounds of hard, angry male. His mouth descended, his eyes a feral silver that signaled his animal was in control. She briefly debated calling for help, but he was right. Artan and Grady were already furious that he’d stolen her right from under their noses. They’d love a chance to pound on Dion. She had no doubt he’d give as good as he got—maybe even win—but two against one was never fair, and her bodyguards fought dirty.
And besides, she knew he wouldn’t really hurt her. He was alpha, a warrior, but also a protector, especially of women and children. He’d never harm her, at least not for anything she’d done to him personally. Of course, if he decided it was the only way to save his clan…
Then his mouth covered hers and her mind emptied of everything but his body against hers: the firm, muscled chest pressed against her aching nipples; the hips rocking slowly against hers; the lips teasing hers, sensuous, knowing.
She’d expected a rough, punishing kiss. She’d seen his face when she’d entered the apartment. Subjecting a proud man like him to the indignity of a net had been a mistake, but there’d been no time to weigh the pros and cons. And when she’d released him, she’d been so sure he’d see the benefit of her plan that she hadn’t extracted a promise from him not to seek revenge—another miscalculation.
But he surprised her by keeping the kiss light, delicate, his mouth brushing over hers in butterfly touches that mad
e her whole body soften.
“Dion,” she said against his lips, “I’m sorry. So sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Silêncio.” He grasped her wrists and pressed them to the wall on either side of her head. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I just want to hear you begging for mercy.”
Her heart thumped against her rib cage. “What do you mean?”
His lips curved in a wolfish smile. “I should punish you, my queen. No one has ever dared capture me in one of my own nets. You deserve to feel my hand on your ass for that. But there’s more than one way to teach you a lesson.”
He kissed her again, harder this time. She closed her eyes as his tongue swept into her mouth, demanding her response. His body pressed hers against the wall, his erection thick and urgent against her belly. He bent his knees so he could grind himself against her mound.
She moaned his name and kissed him back with everything she had.
When he lifted his head, her breath sawed in and out of her lungs. His eyes glinted; both man and animal pleased with her surrender. The bastard. Her head dropped back against the wall as she strove to calm the wild beating of her heart.
If this was punishment, she’d never survive his idea of pleasure.
“Keep your arms raised,” he told her.
She nodded weakly. The time to resist was past. And she wanted this, even knowing it was all he intended to give her. Damn her foolish, needy heart anyway.
He grasped the hem of her dress and yanked it over her head. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath. He dropped it on the floor and looked at her. He drew a slow breath. “Bonita,” he muttered thickly. “Muito bonita.”
His big hands moved over her body, brushing her ribs, tweaking her nipples. She made a small sound of pleasure and his lips curved. One rough palm slid down her abdomen to the junction of her thighs to cup her firmly, claiming her—owning her.
She shuddered with need and he murmured, “Do you want it, querida?”
She jerked her head in assent, and he smiled—not a nice smile. “How bad? Tell me.”
“Bad,” she admitted in ragged tones. “I’m afraid…you’re the only man…I’ll ever want.”
His dark brows snapped together and he stared at her, unmoving. She dropped every defense and met his gaze, bravely exposing her innermost self to him, instinctively knowing it was the only way to overcome his distrust. His eyes flickered and she felt a surge of hope.
Then he shook his head dismissively. “You’ll find someone else.”
She shut her eyes. “Yes.” She refused to let him see how he hurt her.
He gave a low growl of displeasure but didn’t say anything.
His palm was still on her mound. She rocked against him, urging him to continue what he’d started. If she couldn’t have his heart, at least she’d have his body…for today and tomorrow. Because if he didn’t agree to her plan, in two days she was going to have to allow him to leave—and she knew she’d never see him again.
His middle finger delved lower. He grunted with satisfaction. “You’re so hot and wet. So ready for me. Spread a little more, querida.”
He nudged her inner thighs with his hand. Lowering her arms, she braced her palms against the wall and obediently widened her legs.
“That’s it.” He stroked a long finger into her, then out again. The work-roughened tip dragged over her clit. Her womb clenched as sensation streaked through her.
She rocked her hips, wordlessly begging for more, and he gripped her hip with his other hand to hold her still. She drew a jagged breath. “Dion…”
“Always so impatient,” he chided. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to wait for your pleasure?”
“Yes, but—” They hadn’t been Dion. Until him, sex had been a diversion for her, her partners to be enjoyed until she tired of them. But with Dion, it was different.
Until Dion, she hadn’t known what it was to want so badly it was a firestorm of need raging in her veins, wild and hot and sweet.
Until Dion, she hadn’t loved.
He didn’t wait for her explanation. Instead, he chuckled. “If you were mine,” he informed her, “I’d cure you of that.”
She shivered at the dark promise in his voice. But she refused to go down easily. She tilted her chin. “If I were yours, I might let you try.”
He brought his mouth to her neck, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin. “You wouldn’t have a choice.”
But finally, blessedly, his finger began to move, sliding in and out of her feverish, needy sex. She writhed beneath his touch. “Yes…that’s it. Just like that. Please.” Her whole body tightened and she was about to climax when he removed his finger to rest his hand on her mound again.
“Dion,” she pleaded. She lifted her gaze to find his eyes glittering at her.
“Not yet,” he told her.
Her breath sobbed out. “Damn you.” She tried to touch herself but he grabbed her wrists and pressed them against the wall again.
“A lesson, minha rainha…in who is master here. Tell me.”
“Go to hell,” she said in sweet tones.
“Fine.” He held onto her wrists with one hand while with the other he rested his hand on her mound, strumming her lightly with his fingers. Her tension ratcheted up. She tried to press against him but he kept the touch tortuously light.
Her breath jerked in and out of her chest.
“Tell me,” he ordered softly.
She blew out a breath and gave in. “You are, Dion.” Anything to reach the orgasm that was just a touch away.
“Good girl.” He tapped her sex once, twice, and then withdrew his hand. “Now, down on your knees. Show me just how good you can be.” He took a step back and eyed her, one hand fisted around himself as he slowly stroked up and down.
She blinked at him dazedly. Then she narrowed her eyes; two could play this game. She inclined her head. “All right.”
She placed a hand on his abdomen, guiding him to lean against the wall, before sinking to her knees on the wood floor. His cock was long and thick, a deep, purplish red. She put one hand on his leg and wrapped the other around the base. His thigh tensed beneath her hand. A thick drop of fluid gleamed on the broad head.
She smiled and leaned forward to swipe her tongue over it. “Mm,” she purred against his skin. He tasted of the sea, warm and salty. She slid her tongue down the hard, engorged length, skimming over the veins, inhaling his rich, wild scent.
His knees locked and his hand came to her head, holding her in place. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he husked. “Show me how sorry you are. Show me how much you want to please me.”
She hummed her assent and sucked him in for a few seconds, then released him again, teasing him with her tongue, reveling in having him under her power. She might be the one kneeling at his feet, but he was the one who was going to be begging before she was finished.
He murmured something inarticulate. His breath rasped in and his hands fisted against the wall. She glanced up to find him gazing down at her, his eyes a smoky silver-blue, the crest of his cheeks flushed with arousal.
“Say please,” she said cheekily, and swirled her tongue over the cap.
His nostrils flared. “I don’t think so.” He reached down and gripped her braid, gently but firmly pulling her head back. “Now enough playing. Or I’ll tie you to the bed and show you what it’s like to be teased until you’re screaming for release.”
An erotic thrill shot down her spine at his words and the firm way he handled her. Heat bloomed between her thighs and she clenched them together.
His erection prodded her lips and she willingly opened to him. He swore under his breath and gripped her head with both hands, guiding her to take him deeper. She settled into give him the best damn blow job he’d ever had, so that he’d never have another woman without thinking of her, Cleia, and what he’d given up by rejecting her.
She sucked deeply, swirling her tongue over him, letting her teeth scrape lightly over the sensi
tive skin. Meanwhile she worked her hand up and down the base of his cock while with the other she played with his balls, stroking them, rolling them between her fingers.
“That’s it,” he said in a guttural voice. “Take me, Cleia. Take me deep.” He thrust into her mouth. “I’m going to come,” he warned.
She sucked harder, all thoughts of teasing and control forgotten, a woman intent on pleasuring the man she loved.
“That’s it,” he praised. “Take it. Take all of me. Ah, querida.”
He rocked his hips, fucking her mouth in slow, careful strokes. She squeezed his balls and he groaned and arched his back, giving several hard thrusts before he spurted into her mouth, hot and salty and slightly metallic. She swallowed, once, twice, as his cock jerked and continued to release semen.
When he was done, he eased out of her, one hand still on her head.
She sat back on her heels and slanted him a look from under her lashes. “Told you I was good.”
He sank down onto the floor and pulled her between his legs, his back against the wall. “Madre de Deus. You made a believer out of me.”
She turned so she could wrap an arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder. She inhaled slowly, taking in his familiar, spicy scent.
By the Goddess, she needed this man. She’d still been relatively young when her parents had passed on some forty-odd years ago—first her mother, and then her brokenhearted father soon after. She’d become the Conduit, and the seven clans had selected her as queen as well. Suddenly, instead of the adored, pampered daughter, she was the ruler, the one everyone relied on. Olivia had been wonderful, both best friend and a trusted advisor, but Cleia hadn’t realized until now how lonely she’d been.
She stroked a hand over his cheek, rough and dark with stubble. “If we mated, I’d—”
He squeezed her nape to silence her. “No more,” he said, his voice cold. “Otherwise I’m out of here. I may have to remain within your territory until the day after tomorrow, but nothing in that promise says I have to stay with you.”
Seducing the Sun Fae Page 19
