Gideon

by Jacquelyn Frank

  As Noah expected, Mary and Ruth were nowhere to be found. It infuriated him to realize this traitorous behavior had taken place right under his nose for months. Ruth and Mary had gathered and organized these forces against them, plotted against Jacob and Bella, even as Ruth sat week by week at his Council table in her honorable seat. It pained him greatly, leaving him depressed and weary.

  However, he was playing host to a Vampire Prince and a Lycanthrope Queen. He had to push past his emotions to help prepare for the coming celebration, which had expanded from the invitation and input of the Lycanthropes to the welcoming of the same from the Vampires. Small contingents of each would be joining the Demon festival, the first such thing in known history. It was the only spirit-lifting outcome of the saddening situation. It wasn’t permanent world peace or anything so grandiose, but it was a start.

  When Gideon finally woke a full two nights later, he opened his eyes to see his mate sitting at her vanity, clad only in a terry towel and the wet length of her hair. She was filling the center of her palm with a scented lotion he had given her as a gift a few days ago. It had reminded him of her scent in a way, not that it could ever be truly duplicated with any perfection. He had altered it, bringing the chemistry into a satisfactory blend between her scent and the oil of her favored spices, which he had asked Jacob to retrieve for him.

  She smoothed the cream over her hands and arms and Gideon was instantly riveted. Her long fingers glided over her skin, the lotion leaving a luminescent sparkle in its wake as the special healing minerals within refracted light even in their smoothly ground-down state. Watching her touch her own skin in this highly sensual manner brought every blood cell in his body to a hot attention in only a matter of seconds. Her fingers stroked over the hollow in her collarbone that always fascinated him, the curve from neck to throat that he knew the taste of so well, and desire clenched through him, his flesh solidifying into weighted granite, the ache of brutal need impossible to bear in the confines of the clothes he’d been left in as he slept.

  He craved her terribly, his body feeling starved and deprived of her presence and her unique textures even though they had undoubtedly been sleeping side by side this entire time of healing. She probably had not awoken too far ahead of him. Perhaps just long enough to take her shower.

  The scent of the lotion reached him in fragrant waves, but he remained still, watching her as the cream reached the expanse of her shoulders and her upper chest. She reached beneath her arm to loosen her towel, dropping it away from her body so that she sat completely nude before her mirror. Gideon felt love and fire scorching through him in inexplicable partnership. She was beautiful and desirable, gentle and sexy. She was sitting there administering care to her already perfect body, and the pose she inadvertently struck would be branded into his memory for all time. This, he realized, was the woman he had been created to love. Somehow he had been blessed with her perfection of inner and outer beauty, her pristine soul so free of the stains that he himself carried from his unforgivable past.

  Unforgivable, except for by her. This beautiful creature with her generous ways would be his absolution. Every time he would take his pleasure in her welcoming and hungry body, she would be giving him a gift of peace and reconciliation, wrapping herself around him with the touch of her complementary soul, erasing sin with her soft cries and clutching hands.

  Gideon felt the burn of unexpected gratitude behind his eyes, and he wished he could look away from her long enough to give himself relief from the overwhelming emotion. But he could not, and he did not. Instead he simply let it flow over him, mingling with his pulsing need for her.

  Legna continued her ministrations to her body, turning a little now and again to study her features and her perfect skin. Her hands glided down over her breasts, smoothed over her stomach, and then she turned to lift her leg onto the bench she was sitting on. It was then that she noticed him watching her. She smiled, tilting her head slightly as she tried to decipher his thoughts and emotions of the moment.

  Before she really had a chance, Gideon moved at last, slipping out of bed as she rested her curious gaze on his approach. The Ancient felt her knowing eyes drifting over the very blatant message of need his body was displaying so unrepentantly. The sly smile of interest and contemplation she made sliced like a knife through his already aroused body. He took her hand as he neared her, using it to guide her into turning away from the vanity, her back to the mirror as he picked up the bottle of lotion. He filled his palm with it as he knelt on both knees before her. He propped her foot on his thigh and slowly began to administer the cream to her leg with a gentle massage of both hands.

  Legna sighed softly. She felt his touch like the balm it was. He had, of course, started with her injured leg. It ached badly, so she was glad of his concentrated care of it. His hands were hot over the still-raw area. He was completing the task left undone due to his weakness after the battle. He numbed the area with her natural endorphins, and she was glad of it because he extricated a few remaining iron filings before continuing to heal her. The relief was instantaneous. She exhaled happily as he bore the burn of the iron long enough to dispose of it in a nearby wastebasket.

  Legna reached to run her fingers through his hair, pulling him forward so his ear was beneath her lips. She kissed him softly just below it.

  “Let me finish this, love. Take a shower. Relax. I will still be here when you return,” she murmured gently.

  “Are you trying to tell me something?” he asked with quiet humor, kissing her nearby cheek with a brush of his lips.

  “One of the perks of civilization I refuse to relinquish to my instinctual side is the benefit of soap and water when it comes to removing the scent of battle.”

  “I see. For me, the rise of battle in your blood was…beautiful. You are one of the great creations of all time, Nelissuna.”

  “Liar. You wanted to throttle me the moment after I first left your side.”

  “That, my love, is completely beside the point.”

  She giggled, pulling back to match silver with silver, searching his gaze for a long moment.

  “You would have me bathe you myself as women once did to the males of the house when you were born. I see the thought in your mind, so do not dare to deny it. But if I start with you, should I not tend my guests as well? I am not so certain Isabella would like it if I—”

  Legna gasped midsentence when he yanked her up from the bench and pulled her over his shoulder as he rose to his feet. He marched her into the connecting bath as she squealed with indignant laughter and not-so-adamant demands to put her down. He had a possessive hand on her backside as he crossed to the deep bath that had been carved out of an enormous piece of pink quartz and rubbed to a smooth shine. He set her on her feet in the center of the tub and turned on the water as she put her hands on her hips and stuck one hip out to the side in a posture that was only missing a tapping foot of impatience to complete it.

  “I already took a bath,” she declared, completely uncaring of the fact that she was holding the argument in the nude. “I am not the one all befouled with dirt and blood and who knows what else. That bed is going to have to be fumigated between the two of us.”

  “It will be replaced by midnight,” he assured her as he stripped off his clothes.

  Legna moved to the opposite edge of the tub from him and sat on the wide rim as she kicked the water filling it. Gideon seemed to be ignoring the fact that her kicking got stronger each time and he was beginning to get sprinkled with water as he disrobed.

  At least, he ignored it until she thought to try something she had never heard of anyone doing before. She imagined a bowl in her mind in the center of the deepening water. Then she teleported the imaginary bowl and its liquid contents to a point just above his head. The water kept form for all of a second, then released in a deluge in one sudden moment.

  Legna cried out, a loud cross between a victory cry and delighted laughter. Gideon shook his soaked hair back from h
is eyes and two seconds later was around the tub and grabbing for her. When she appeared on the opposite side of the tub with a pop, she was laughing even harder. So hard, she clutched her sides and rolled onto her back, kicking her heels against the floor with her irrepressible humor.

  Undaunted, Gideon crossed through the center of the tub to grab her, and this time she was laughing too much to concentrate on a teleport. He dragged his hysterical mate into the water and dunked her head under it. She popped up spewing water and laughter, smacking him harmlessly in what he supposed was some sort of retribution for the act. It seemed more like a flirtation, however, as she moved into the circle of his arms, clinging to his shoulders as he sat back in the hot, refreshing water.

  “You got water in my ears,” she complained, sneezing sharply from the water that had also gone up her nose. She shook her head, spraying him with water from her hair.

  Gideon frowned suddenly, noticing something was a little off. He turned her back to him, using the float of water to assist him in the task. He reached for her hair and passed it through his hand.

  “You cut your hair,” he said, his astonishment clear. “You have never voluntarily cut your hair. Noah always had to wait until you were sleeping before setting scissors on you. Why did you cut it now?”

  She turned back toward him, moving forward to straddle his thighs and rest her hands on his shoulders as she met his perplexed gaze.

  “It is nothing. If I want you to grow it for me, I know you will.”

  “That is not an answer to my question.”

  “Well, I am afraid it is the only one you will be getting. And do stay out of my head about it, if you please.”

  “Legna,” he warned.

  “Gideon,” she mocked. Legna reached past his shoulders, grabbing a bar of soap and a bath sponge, holding both up with tantalizing waves and a wiggling brow. “Where should I start?”

  “I will not let you change the subject,” he told her. “I want to know why you—”

  Legna’s hands plunged beneath the water as he spoke. The sentence ended with what Legna deemed a satisfactory intake of his breath.

  “Subject changed,” she announced wickedly, her smile split by the appearance of a saucy little tongue touching her upper lip. “Now,” she purred naughtily as her hands encircled him, stroked him, “we are going to have to discuss the concept of privacy and private thoughts. If you do not allow me to have them, I will never be able to surprise you. Now, correct me if I am mistaken, but you seem to like surprises.”

  She stroked him with a skillfully soapy touch to punctuate her point.

  Gideon found himself nodding, completely speechless unless he counted the unstoppable groan that rose up out of him. His hands were on her thighs, flexing opened and closed rhythmically as she continued to explore him with a blind but deft underwater touch.

  “You know,” she mused, “I like you much better when you are like this. I think we will be doing this a little more often.”

  “Oh, I hope so,” he said at last, dragging her forward so he could reach her giggling mouth.

  He kissed the laughter right out of her, keeping his mouth locked on hers until humor was replaced by growing heat and interest. Her hands never stopped but began to skim over wider, more diverse areas. She was soon bathing him in earnest, her mouth never leaving his as she covered him with erotic swirls of soap and sponge. She relinquished both to him a while later, her chest pressed to his, her thighs bracketing his hips as she filled her hand with shampoo and began a soft, sensual cleansing of his silver hair. While the amazing feel of her fingers sent whorls of sensation down through his body, he was spreading a rich lather of soap over her back and shoulders, slipping his hands between their chests and cupping her breasts in his soapy hands.

  Legna purred with soft pleasure into his mouth. She gently coaxed his head back and, using the cup of her hands, meticulously rinsed his hair even as he continued to touch her in his most arousing ways. He shook his wet head back when she finished, reaching for her hands and pulling them back beneath the water as he recaptured the lips he realized he would never grow tired of.

  They traded hot, slippery caresses until they were both breathing a chain of pleasurable sounds. Legna broke away from him suddenly, her abandonment disturbing him. He reached for her, but she slid in his grasp.

  Then he realized she was turning around, sliding back into his embrace and reaching to slip his hands back over her breasts, nestling her thrusting nipples into his palms with a sound of eager encouragement. His mouth was on the elegant column of her neck instantly, making her shiver as she slid back toward him. He reached for her throat, using her collarbone to steady her from floating away from him as his other hand went to her hips, moving her back into him until he was moving into her.

  Legna’s body arched as he began the erotic intrusion, soapy water making them slide in incredibly stimulating ways against each other. He pulled her onto him at the same time he surged up into her, sending himself deeply into that hot haven of femininity he loved and craved.

  The sound of pleasure that shuddered out of him made her smile, her eyes sliding closed as she felt him move her floating body with such ease into a second thrust.

  She felt so different this way, but even better for the difference. Without her mouth to split his focus, he was left with watching her spine curve and move as she moved her silky body over him. Outside of that, he was completely fixated on the feel of her, the strange and wonderful change of temperature between her and the water, the growing friction between them as the natural lubricants of her body were washed away, replaced, and washed away again.

  She clutched at him so tightly he could hardly see straight. She was lost in the creation of those sounds of pleasure he loved hearing escape her. He reached a hard crest quickly, grabbing her hips and forcing her to be still while he inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth for control over the body he should have complete mastery over.

  It was astounding that she could do this to him, astounding and incredibly wonderful. She smiled, knowing his thoughts as clearly as she knew her own in that moment. She could take control of him there and then in ways he would never expect. She tested the thought, flexing her body tightly around him until she elicited the hot curse he was prone to releasing in moments of ultimate vexation. His hand wrapped around her throat, pulling her head back so her ear was against his heated mouth.

  “Do not move. Do not so much as cough, Magdelegna.”

  “But I do not want you to stop,” she said softly, her voice a coaxing, sexual stimulant. She crossed the line, clutching him once more with that dangerously skillful muscle control she had.

  Before he finished the requisite swearing due the moment, she found herself out of the tub and being pushed down onto her hands and knees on the plush white carpet that covered the floor. Her hips were pulled back toward him, rejoining their bodies in one movement.

  She paid a pretty price for her insolent seduction. Her mate was more animal than man in that moment, moving with hot and sure movements into her body, reaching depths she didn’t realize she had. She cried out, a series of whimpers that grew in volume moment by moment, spurring him on until she felt the scrape of nails against her skin and the primal surge of his body into her, setting her on fire. He groaned one moment, then surged into her with the beginnings of a long, low growl.

  The sound magnified as they reached alternating peaks of pleasure. She was the first to leap headlong off the summit of her pleasure, her wild cry drowned by his throaty vocalizations as he exploded inside of her. He threw back his head, calling out, a shout of joy, a growl of warning. She was his. His. If any other dared to touch her or try to take her from him, they would pay the price to the beast behind the man.

  It was only a minute before he was able to relax the possessive grip he had on her, but he had bruised her nonetheless. He moved from her, turning her over in a limp movement of arms and a delightful sound of female satisfaction. He had been worr
ied to see he had marked her pretty much all over, but that sound seemed to make everything better.

  He stood up, pulling her into his arms and scooping her off the floor. She hung limply in a very theatric pose of satiation, making him laugh when she smiled and peeked at him from under her lashes. He carried her into their bedroom, dripping a trail of water the entire way. He dropped her feet, holding her against him as he secured a clean blanket from the closet and wrapped it around them both.

  “What bedrooms did you give to our guests?”

  “The ones all the way…way…way on the other side of the manse.”

  He laughed at that, hugging her tightly for giving him that ability to indulge in humor once more.

  “Then I’d say the bedroom with the old armoire you like should suffice.”

  “Yes, master,” she teased, flicking her hand and sending them there. “Oops, one sec.” She winked at him and snapped her fingers, the bottle of lotion suddenly in her hand.

  “Show-off. You know, you are going to have to tell me how you do that.”

  “Well, first you pump this little thing on top, then the lotion—”

  Legna yelped when he slapped her hard on her bottom, the blanket doing little to shield her from the sting of it.

  “Gideon! Do not ever do that again!” she scolded.

  “Not even if you beg me to?” he countered lecherously.

  Legna laughed, unable to help herself.

  “I hate you!”

  “No, you do not,” he insisted. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  Chapter 16

  Beltane came on a moon-filled and cold night. Fire lit the horizons at every turn. The pyres of the dead had been honored the night before, and tonight the revelers threw flower wreaths on the lost ones, saying final goodbyes. They had lost seven men and two women in all, nothing compared to the enemy losses, but everything to a society who valued even the weakest member as highly as any other.