Guardian's Challenge

by Green, Bronwyn

  She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d held, and his tongue slipped past her shocked defenses. For a moment, she lost herself in sensation—the remnants of mead on his lips, the rough stubble of hair on his chin, the hard planes of his body against hers. Yes. This was where she wanted to be—in his arms.

  His hand splayed through the hair at her nape, loosening the strip of leather that kept it from her face, and his lips trailed an urgent path along the column of her neck. Her fingers fisted in his tunic, and she pulled him closer. How had she lived so long without this? Without him? Just as quickly, she remembered how, and more importantly, why.

  She tried to twist from his grasp. Tightening his fingers in her hair, he raised his lips from her skin.

  “Let me go,” she demanded.

  He shook his head.

  “I’m not the same person I was when I lived here.” She needed him to see reason.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me.” Anger tightened her muscles. She’d hurt him if she had to. Drawing her knee upward, she prepared to bring her foot down on his instep.

  Sensing her intent, he shoved his leg between hers, bringing his thigh to rest against her mound. Her breath left her body on a gasp. More intense than ever, the aching empty sensation clawed through her body, and she fought the urge to beg him to take her here and now.

  Hardly daring to lift her eyes, she met his gaze. His mouth curved in predatory satisfaction, and her stomach sank to the hewn stone floor. Her response hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  “You still want me,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. He let his hand slip from her hair to trail over her shoulder and settle at her waist. His thumb brushed over her ribcage, under the swell of her breast. She tried to squirm from his hold, but the motion only served to heighten her awareness of their intimate position.

  “No,” she choked out. “No, I don’t.”

  Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, he slid his hand upward and cupped her breast. Her nipple hardened under his palm, and a gratified smile curved his lips.

  Neeve fought the shudder of need that coursed through her at his touch. It was heaven to have his hand on her again. She wanted to rip away the cloth that separated their skin, but she refused to give him the pleasure of knowing how he affected her. Pressing her lips together, she glared at him.

  What might have been amusement flitted through his eyes before they turned flat again. His hand dropped to her hip, and he began to gather the fabric of her skirt, inching it upward. “If I touched you right now, you’d be wet for me.”

  It wasn’t a question—the arrogant lout. The worst part was that he was right. As soon as he’d kissed her, desire had dampened her folds. She wanted nothing more than to have him inside her. “Touch me, and I’ll hurt you.”

  His lips twitched, but he kept bunching the fabric, intent on baring her skin.

  She struggled harder, not wanting another reminder of the bliss he could give her. She’d spent far too many nights lying awake with nothing but cold memories to comfort her, and she doubted she’d survive leaving him a second time.

  His callused fingertips reached her thigh, and she fought the shudder that threatened at the contact. As he crept closer to her core, apprehension twisted her stomach. She couldn’t let him touch her. Still trying to break free of his hold, she sank her teeth into his upper arm.

  Asher’s eyes narrowed, growing darker—more intense. He moved closer and brushed her ear with his lips. “You’re going to regret that, cariad.”

  Releasing him, she met his gaze and swallowed thickly. “Probably.”

  The word ended on a gasp as his hand brushed across her damp curls. He held her gaze with his own. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t look away from the carnal promises in his eyes. The shudder she’d stifled earlier raced through her as he unerringly found her center, parting her folds with his finger.

  “You’re so wet,” he breathed.

  Her hands curled against the heated planes of his chest. She closed her eyes and melted against him as he stroked her needy flesh. He lowered his lips to hers, and she opened willingly beneath him, drawing his tongue into her mouth. He kissed her as if she were the sustenance he needed to survive. All the while, he continued to slide through her wetness, occasionally brushing his thumb across her swollen clitoris. She arched against his hand, powerless to stop the motion of her hips. She wanted him inside her so badly the emptiness hurt.

  His mouth left hers to trace the line of her jaw, down the side of her neck. The sensation of his rough cheek against her skin drove her fingers into his hair, and she dragged his lips to her breast.

  Tugging the loose fabric of her bodice aside, he bared her left breast. Her nipple puckered under his scrutiny. The tightening flesh throbbed as his breath coasted over her bare skin. Without warning, his mouth closed, hot and insistent, over her aching nipple.

  Unable to stop the moan that escaped her lips, she tightened her hands in his hair and pulled him closer. He suckled harder, accommodating her wordless pleas. It was as if she’d never left him. Their bodies remembered each other and strained for more.

  Using his free hand, he palmed circles over her other nipple. It pebbled through the fabric, hardening further as he plucked and twisted it. Need pulsed through her creating an invisible line of connection from her breasts to her womb, and she wanted more.

  She should push him away. She should fight the drugging pull he had on her. She should, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  Just when Asher had feared he’d never see Neeve again, she’d reappeared in his life. He sucked harder on her nipple, rage and fear warring with his need for her. Now that he had her back, he wouldn’t ever let her forget she belonged to him.

  He watched her battle for control of her responses. Her thoughts shone clearly on her beautiful face. Refusing to let her further question the heat between them, he slipped a finger inside her tight channel. Trembling, her breathing harsh, she tightened around his finger, and he fought his own tremors, aching to be inside her. He added a second finger, and she convulsed around him, closing her eyes and biting her lip to keep from crying out.

  “You’re wishing this was my cock filling you,” he rasped, watching her face as he spoke.

  Increasing the speed and depth of his thrusts, he slipped his arm around her waist to support her shaking legs. She clung to his chest, her lips parted as she gasped for breath.

  She shoved harder, pushing against his hand, seeking the release she so desperately needed. The release they both needed. His cock ached to be inside her, to feel her snug channel gripping him.

  “You’re so tight,” he whispered against her neck. “Have you been saving yourself for me?”

  He watched her eyes. Had she missed him as much as he’d missed her? Had she dreamed of him? Had she realized no other man could give her everything she needed?

  A sheen of sweat clung to her upper lip as she ground herself against him, refusing to respond to his question.

  Though it nearly killed him, he withdrew his hand.

  She whimpered at the loss.

  “Answer me,” he grated. “Have you fucked anyone else?”

  “Please,” she croaked, her throat raw.

  He still wanted her. Her answer wouldn’t change anything—anything other than the size of the hole in his heart.

  Holding her gaze, he lifted his glistening fingers to his lips and drew her essence into his mouth. He fought the groan that welled in his chest. So much better than he remembered, but he still longed to taste her juices directly from her skin. To hear her scream as he brought her to the edge over and over.

  Eyes bright with need, she watched him savor her cream. He traced her trembling lips with his damp finger as he drew her closer, his erection prodding her hip. Dropping his hand, he dragged his fingers over the sensitive crease where her thigh met her torso.

  “Has any other man filled you?”

  She swall
owed hard and shook her head as he skimmed her mound with his knuckles.

  “I didn’t hear you.” He lightly pinched her clitoris before withdrawing his hand again.

  “No.” The word was ripped from her throat.

  Using fingers, thumb and mouth, he took possession of her body and quickly brought her back to the teetering peak of release. Her cunt rippled around his fingers as she caught his rhythm. He suckled her nipple, reveling in her desperate, sobbing gasps as he drew on her.

  Her climax seemed to hover just beyond her reach. Her body strained toward it. Strained toward him. He released her breast and pulled back to watch her. It had been too damn long. He wanted to see her face when she came. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes, and her lips moved but issued no sound. It looked as if she mouthed, “Only you, only you,” but he couldn’t be sure.

  He played his thumb across her throbbing clit, drawing her need higher.

  “Come for me, Neeve,” he commanded.

  Looking into his eyes, she began to shudder uncontrollably, clutching at his arms. Her keening cry echoed through the empty corridor and his aching body. Only sheer will kept him from spilling in his braes. He wouldn’t allow himself release until he was buried inside her supple body.

  Gasping, she slumped against him. Slowly, he withdrew his hand and gathered her in his arms. “No. You don’t want me at all,” he murmured against her hair.

  Neeve stiffened and tried again to pull away. He shouldn’t have taunted her, but he couldn’t seem to let the tender moment last. He was too raw—too close to admitting how much he needed her.

  Blinking, she straightened her dress, hiding her beautiful breast from his view. He felt her withdrawal in every level of his being, and he refused to let it go any further.

  “I have work to do,” she muttered, refusing to look at him.

  He lifted her chin and forced her gaze upward. “We’re not finished.”

  She stared at him, incredulity coloring her features. “Oh, we’re finished. We’ve been finished for months.”

  Chapter Two

  Neeve glared at the man with whom she’d once fancied herself in love. She needed to pull herself together and think. She hadn’t planned on seeing him again. She certainly hadn’t planned on experiencing an earth-shattering orgasm at his hands—and in the hallway of all places. Shaking her head in disgust, she tried to step around him.

  Asher blocked her way and gazed at her as if he could read her mind. He had that ability, but she’d always been able to shield her thoughts from him, and she didn’t plan on letting her guard down in the future. It wouldn’t help her situation if he knew how conflicted she was about seeing him again after all this time.

  It was hard enough to think with the warmth of Asher’s scent hanging heavy in the air and the aftereffects of release still trembling through her body. Harder still to think, when all she wanted was to feel him pounding into her, over and over.

  “Come to my chamber.”

  Her body clenched with desire at the edge of command in his voice. She wanted to. She wanted to welcome him into her empty, aching body. Crushing the thought before it fully took root, she frowned at her reaction. She’d worked hard for her independence. She wasn’t about to abandon it simply because his dominant stance aroused her. Everything about him aroused her. She shook her head, denying them both.

  He opened his mouth to argue when Joseph, one of the temple guardians rushed toward them, his features tight with worry.

  Asher locked his fingers around Neeve’s wrist, keeping her close when she would have pulled away. “What’s the matter?” he asked the young man.

  “Messengers from Pryderi. They’re begging aid from the overlord’s mate.”

  Neeve straightened and stared at the guardian. “She just gave birth. She’s in no condition to give aid to anyone.”

  Asher’s eyes widened at her pronouncement. She supposed her newfound assertiveness was a huge surprise to him. He would simply have to accustom himself to it. Dismissing his reaction, she turned her attention back to Joseph whose eyes darkened with recognition.

  “Neeve,” the other man greeted warmly. “It’s good to see you.”

  She smiled, fully aware of Asher’s narrowing gaze as he took in their interaction. “Hello, Joseph.”

  The door to the overlord’s chamber eased open, and Asher pulled her aside—away from Joseph—as Micah exited the room looking exhausted.

  “What is it?” the overlord asked, looking directly at Asher.

  She supposed he’d sent his thoughts to Micah when Joseph had announced the arrival of their guests. He had that ability as well.

  The younger guardian bowed slightly, his burnished gold hair glinting in the light of the torches. “My lord, messengers from Pryderi have arrived. They’re begging assistance of your mate.”

  Micah bristled. “What sort of aid?”

  “The heirs to the throne have taken ill, and their healers haven’t been able to alleviate their suffering.”

  The overlord nodded and began walking toward the great hall. “We need their continued goodwill and support against the Caderyn.” He stopped and turned and pinned them with a stony gaze. “But my mate will not go.”

  Micah’s fierce love and worry for Elizabeth was an almost visible energy as it vibrated along his tight shoulders and clenched fists.

  Neeve stepped from Asher’s side, heedless of his fingers tightening around her wrist. “I will go in her place.”

  “No,” Asher practically shouted. “I forbid it.”

  She yanked her arm from his grasp and spun to face him. “You what?”

  His green eyes glittered in the torchlight as he glared at her. “I forbid you to go,” he said evenly.

  Micah raised his eyebrows as he glanced between her and Asher. Dismissing his chancellor, he addressed Neeve. “You would travel to Pryderi?”

  She swallowed her rising fear. “If need be.”

  Micah inclined his head. “I would not send you without protection.”

  Nodding, she glanced at Asher from the corner of her eye. She’d heard the stories about Pryderi. Nearly every woman had two mates—whether she wanted them or not. Unescorted women were considered fair prey.

  “I will accompany her,” Asher stated.

  Before she could open her mouth to protest, Micah nodded then continued toward the great hall as they followed in his wake.

  The barely clad Pryderi warriors rose to greet them. Neeve didn’t miss the way their eyes skimmed appreciatively over her body. Judging from Asher’s narrowed gaze, he didn’t miss their admiration either. She focused her attention on Micah.

  “I’m told you’ve need of a healer,” the overlord stated, pulling their attention to him.

  The dark haired man bowed his head. “We do, milord. The heirs to Pryderi’s throne have fallen ill, and our midwives have been unable to find the cause or the cure.”

  Micah nodded while Neeve’s mind raced. She mentally cataloged the herbs she’d brought with her from Hafan. Judging from the warriors’ anxious manner, she didn’t have time to return for more. She’d need to check Elizabeth’s stock and replenish her supplies before they left.

  “My mate,” Micah continued, “has just given birth and is unable to attend you.” Turning slightly, he gestured toward Neeve. “However, Neeve has agreed to accompany you back to Pryderi and will travel with her mates.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Asher’s dark glance silenced her. She wasn’t a fool. It would be stupid to travel unescorted, but it didn’t stop her from balking at the situation. In the last nine months, she’d become accustomed to answering only to herself. Being forced to pretend Asher was her mate chafed at her freedom.

  The warriors nodded. “Our thanks to you,” they intoned, bowing slightly to Micah.

  Annoyance flared, and her fists tightened. She was the one who had agreed to go. She would be the one doing the work. And they thanked Micah? Not that their attitude was a surprise. I
t seemed the Pryderi men were no different than the majority of the men of Maelgwn. Perhaps it was a good thing Asher would be accompanying her. He might be able to keep her from slapping these idiots.

  As if he knew her thoughts, Asher smiled at her. His warm, sensual smile never failed to set her insides quivering. Maybe spending this time with him would end her cravings for him once and for all. Their liaison would follow the normal course, ending as such things did, and she would no longer lay awake at night, wishing for him to fill her, fucking her until they were too exhausted to move.

  His eyes darkened—an emerald sea of desire awash with carnal promises. He stepped closer to her, and she prayed he hadn’t heard her breath quicken. Shielding her emotions, she looked away as Micah sent for food and drink for the exhausted warriors.

  Having seen to the needs of his guests, the overlord gently took her arm and led her from the hall, motioning for Asher and Joseph to follow. Once they’d passed through the doors, he met her questioning glance. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

  “If I don’t go, we risk our alliance with the Pryderi.”

  Micah didn’t speak, but approval glimmered in his eyes.

  Asher stepped behind her, effectively trapping her between his body and Micah’s.

  “Asher will travel with you,” the other man dictated. “It’s best if you allow him to act the role of your mate.” He paused, and she felt the moment his gaze connected with Asher’s. “It will be safest for Neeve if you allow Joseph…or another man to play the part of her other mate.”

  Tension shot through Asher’s body, and he practically growled. She didn’t need to turn around to know the foul expression that twisted his features. A perverse thrill skittered along the edges of her awareness, but she crushed it. It didn’t matter that he was jealous. Their relationship was over. Regardless of what had happened earlier, and despite her thoughts of allowing their relationship to take its natural course, she wouldn’t allow him to touch her again. She’d barely survived losing him before. She refused to put herself through that anguish again.