TAO OF LOVE 3:
KISS OF THE TWIN WEREWOLVES
Sedonia Guillone
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This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
* * * * *
This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (ménage).
Tao of Love 3: Kiss of the Twin Werewolves
Sedonia Guillone
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Loose Id LLC
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www.loose-id.com
Copyright © February 2007 by Sedonia Guillone
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 978-1-59632-312-4
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Ansley Velarde
Cover Artist: Anne Cain
Dedication
For Mitch, always
Thank You’s
Thanks to my editors, Ansley, Christy, and MT for your patience as well as your editing.. Thanks to Ann Cain for the fabulous cover. To the Quad for having me here at LI. To my critique partner, Ruth Axtell Morren who is an awesome writing coach, and to my friends for unending support.
Prologue
Beijing, China
September
He didn’t know who he was or how he’d come to be alive. All he remembered was waking up naked, with the winds of the grassy plain passing over him. He spent the days wandering as a man, the nights, as a beast, a wolf-like creature that hunted, fed and roamed until the sun rose and he became a man again.
In spite of his own mysterious origin, he’d known exactly which direction to wander. His path brought him closer each day to a small hut where a kind old man, someone he remembered somehow as important to him, had smiled when he saw him and said, “Welcome home, my son.”
The old man had fed him meat and given him clothes to wear, baggy pants and shirt, and sandals for his feet, rejoicing that he had returned. Where he’d returned from, he didn’t know, but after living a while in the tiny house with...his father? – a growing restlessness plagued him, a hunger he couldn’t identify or ignore. The feeling grew so torturous that one night before sunrise, as soon as he’d returned to human form, he’d risen, dressed, slipped his feet into his sandals and walked out.
He kept walking, letting his body guide him. Days passed and he found himself in this city, standing in front of a tall building. He didn’t understand why he’d come here, he knew only that he had to wait.
Hours went by. The air grew hotter as the sun rose in the shimmering blue sky. Automobiles passed on the street. People on bicycles...so many bicycles, pedaled past him, ignoring him. The world was so large, it was actually frightening, but the hunger gnawing at his soul was greater, pushing back the fear.
Then he finally knew why he was here, at this building. A woman walked out of the front door, a beautiful woman with a slim body and pale skin, her jet black hair pulled smoothly off her face. She didn’t notice him as she passed. The high heels of her shoes clicked on the pavement, her body swayed with her graceful movements.
He only knew that he needed her. He started to follow her, trying to speak, but there were no words in his throat. No human voice. Only an animal-like growl.
The sound caused her to turn her head. She looked at him, her large dark eyes full of recognition. Her full lips parted slightly and she stopped. “What are you doing here?” Her voice trembled on the question. She was obviously not happy to see him.
He couldn’t answer. He only reached for her, grasped her arm.
She yelped and pulled away. “Don’t touch me!” She whirled around and walked away, almost running.
His desperation rose. Why was she frightened of him? He’d only ever loved her. He’d never wanted to hurt her. Yet he felt her hatred. He followed her, matched the speed of her steps. He reached out and grasped her shoulder. He could practically feel her soft skin through the silky blouse.
She wheeled around, her pretty face creased in anger, her eyes fearful. “Don’t touch me or I’ll scream!”
He didn’t understand her fear and hostility. He was desperate to reach her. He was dying inside and needed her help. He grasped her shoulders with both hands and made one of the only sounds he could besides the howl he produced when he was the beast hunting. He grunted.
She screamed. Again. And again.
Now the people on their bicycles were stopping. They noticed him now. Yet nobody tried to pull him off her. They stood, frozen, regarding him with fearful, wide eyes. He didn’t understand all this fear. He was only begging her to listen. Why couldn’t she just listen? He never had hurt her and never would.
Sirens rang in his ears. A car had screeched to a halt on the curb and two uniformed men got out, running toward them. Strong hands wrestled him off her, yanked his arms behind his back, forced him to the ground so hard his cheek scraped against the pavement.
He grunted and struggled, but in vain. Chains were clasped around his wrists and he was dragged back to his feet and forced into the car. He struggled uselessly against his bonds. He had to get out, get back to her. He needed her so desperately. He peered through the window. She stood with one of the men who’d arrested him, her pretty face in tears, a wisp of her hair escaped from its bun in their struggle. He wanted to cry out to her, to beg her for help, but he couldn’t make any sound except a desperate growl.
He watched that man leave her, approach the car, get into the front seat. The driver started up the engine and pulled away. Soon, she would be gone and he’d be helpless. Completely alone and helpless. He threw his body against the door, only to receive a sharp reprimand. All he knew was that if she didn’t help him, the one he needed so desperately, he’d die.
Chapter One
One day later in Chinatown, Boston.
Jie lifted his hands to Megan’s bare breasts.
The full undersides of soft orbs filled his palms and he squeezed them gently, brushed his thumbs over her dusky pink nipples.
Meg’s breath caught softly and she leaned back against his naked torso. The movement pushed the top of her buttocks into his dragon, which, of course, rose and grew hard. He dragged in a breath.
Self-control was not going to be easy.
Meg’s skin, fresh from her bath, exuded the scent of roses mixed with the deeper musk emanating from her sex. Her arousal shimmered in the air around them, and the scent strengthened as their bodies touched. The heel of Meg’s foot positioned against her moist open core also heightened Jie’s tension. Her golden hair, gathered in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, brushed his lips.
She must have sensed his hesitation for she turned her head, shifted her bo
dy so she could look at him. Her breasts slipped from his hands and she frowned. Meg was a sensitive woman, even more deeply connected to him because she was his true mate. In the few months since he’d come to her to protect her from the Russian werewolf, she’d grown to be as dear to him as his godfather. “Jie,” she said near a whisper, “I love you as you are. You know that.” She reached up and cupped his cheek. Her thumb brushed his skin.
In the muted lamplight of the bedroom, he saw the flicker of pain in her almond-shaped eyes. His heart squeezed. All she wanted was for him not to be tormented anymore. The urgency of his desire to cure himself of his lycanthropy lent a heavy air even to the pleasurable practice of the sexual Tao. For him, the practice was not for enlightenment, as had been its application for centuries in China. No. Through their exercises, through cleansing and purifying Meg’s yin and his yang he hoped to use the power of their combined life forces to regain his humanity.
Of course she spoke the truth. The fact that he was a werewolf had never bothered her. Each month since they’d begun the cycle of exercises to prevent his change at the full moon, she reassured him. Unfortunately, her acceptance was never enough. Nightmares of his death match with the Russian lang ren still haunted him. Until that day, Jie had never taken a life, and even though he’d had to fight to save Meg’s life, he still found it impossible to forgive himself.
The exercises were working, too. Since they’d been practicing, he hadn’t undergone the Change once. He intended to keep it that way, in spite of the fact that he’d lost some of his physical strength. He bowed his head. “I know you do.” He put his hand on her shoulder and bid her to turn back around.
Meg yielded under his touch and he encircled her in his arms once again, positioning his hands over her breasts. “Remember,” he said, “Seventy-two times in one direction and then seventy-two in the other direction.”
She nodded, her breathing already growing heavier. “I remember,” she whispered and leaned back against him.
The shift of her body sent fresh thrills of heat into his dragon and yang pearls. He dragged in a deep breath and started moving his hands, his touch mere ghostlike whispers over her flesh. His fingertips grazed the soft skin of her breasts. He avoided her nipples, but Jie could tell from the rasp of her breathing that the tiny peaks had hardened.
Keeping track of the number of times he’d circled her breasts was very difficult and he had to force his attention back to counting, working against the yin tide rising in Meg’s body. When he’d finished the first seventy-two circles, he paused and switched direction. His fingertips brushed Meg’s nipples as he did so.
Another soft moan slipped from her and she moved against him, rubbing his raging erection. He fought the urge to turn her around, lay her down and take her. He’d done so several times in the beginning of their practice before he’d gotten control of his hunger.
Meg’s yin dew rose like a tidal wave. Jie felt the force of it, both her female energy and the physical moisture seeping from her sex. Her body trembled against his, her breasts rose and fell heavily under his circling hands. “Jie,” she whispered, her voice tight and ragged, “I’m ready. Please...release me.”
Her plea sent the hunger rippling through his loins. He pulled away from her, turned her pliant body easily around and laid her on her back. Meg’s soft lips were parted and she looked up at him from under heavy lids. It took all the control in his possession not to climb between her thighs and slide into her.
He settled onto the mattress beside her, lowered his mouth to one full, soft breast. Her flowery scent assaulted him and he closed his lips over her nipple, tugged it gently between his lips and tongue. The tender bud tightened, released its musky flavor and Jie felt his body relax, entering the flow of pleasure. He reached for her other breast and squeezed it tenderly. He drew it closer, gently yet urgently chafed the nipple between his fingertips.
Meg moaned softly and clutched his hair with both hands. His hair was too short to gain purchase so her fingers opened and closed in a feverish rhythm. She was panting and her hips rose and fell in rhythm with his suckling, her body so obviously desperate for release. Her yin energy now flowed freely into him, swirling, mixing with his life force.
Jie pulled his mouth off her nipple, and took the other one between his lips. He licked and suckled it with tender care, drawing from it more of Meg’s yin. Already the gently charged energy of peace tingled inside him, filled him. His mind grew quieter, his body less hungry. His dragon, though still hard, didn’t pulse and strain painfully from the lack of direct stimulation.
Not leaving her breast, Jie slid one hand down Meg’s stomach, relished the petal-like softness of her skin. He dragged lightly over the curls on her mound and slipped his fingertips between her lower lips. She parted her legs, freely offered her soft inner sex, swollen and slippery. “Jie,” she whispered, her tone begging.
He found her pearl and rubbed it in tiny circles. He knew she especially loved that and varied the speed and pressure of his fingertips until she panted his name over and over. She was so responsive, her openness to him made him want to draw out her pleasure as long as possible. Teasingly, he lifted his fingertips from the tiny sensitive nub and slid two fingers inside her.
“Jie!” She lifted her hips off the mattress and moaned softly.
He tugged her nipple hard between his lips and tongue and pulsed his fingers in and out of her at the same time. After several gentle strokes, he slid back to her clitoris. Meg’s fully aroused body took only seconds to cascade over the edge. She arched her back and whimpered softly.
He continued rubbing her pearl in light slick circles until the tension drained from her body and she unclenched her hands, her fingers caressing his hair.
Jie lifted his mouth from her breast and gazed down at her. In the soft light, he could see her pale skin was flushed. Her female musk filled the space and he sensed her complete satisfaction. A light sheen of perspiration glowed on her pale skin and her breasts still rose and fell with her breathing.
He grinned and licked her dew from his fingertips, relishing the tang of her intimate juices. “Mmm, Meg, you’re delicious.”
He saw her redden and chuckled.
A smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you, I think. ” She returned his gaze, the satiated look now mingled with concern. “What about you, Jie?”
Before he could answer, the phone rang. Jie wondered if the caller had a telescope trained on his and Meg’s bedroom. He was tempted to let the answering machine pick up, but a tingle of premonition shivered up his spine. “I’ll answer it,” he murmured.
Rolling away from Meg, he picked up the receiver and sighed as he brought it to his ear. “Hello?”
At first, no one spoke on the other end. Normally Jie would have thought it was a wrong number, but another strange chill passed through him. “Hello?” he said again. Maybe it was his godfather. He’d sent the elderly man a pre-paid phone card so he could call him in case of an emergency from his friend’s store on the Chinese side of Xiahe. “Li Sifu, is that you? It’s me, Jie.”
“Jie?” It certainly was his godfather’s voice. “I...I don’t understand.”
Jie gripped the phone tighter. Beside him, Meg sat up. “What don’t you understand, Sifu?”
“How...how you are in America.”
The chill snaked again up Jie’s spine. There had been moments in the past when he’d doubted his godfather’s mental state. He’d always been wrong before, but this was too strange. Meg touched his arm, a light touch that conveyed her concern. He looked at her, and motioned to her to wait. “I’ve been here since June, Sifu,” Jie went on. “You know that. I’ve been in America since you read my astrological chart and told me my mate was here.”
“Then it is not you in the Beijing police jail?”
Jie’s heart lurched. “What? No, of course not! Why would I be in jail?”
“I received a telegram from Su Lin.”
Jie’s entire body tensed at t
he mention of his ex-wife. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other since their divorce was finalized five years earlier. Su Lin hated him, at least enough not to want to be with him. She’d obviously cared enough not to report his political leanings to his government. “What did the telegram say, Sifu?”
“It said she wanted me to come to Beijing and bring you back to Xiahe with me so you wouldn’t harass her anymore.”
Cold prickles of energy cascaded down Jie’s arms. “Harass her? That’s impossible! I wouldn’t do that. And I haven’t even seen her face since the divorce.” When he glanced at Meg, she was frowning, her eyes wide with obvious alarm. She knew about his history with Su Lin.
“Jie, I saw you too, my son. You were here for days and then you left again. I didn’t know where you went or where to look for you. I was calling this number because I thought you’d gone back to America to be with your mate.”
Jie’s jaw dropped. “I’ve...been in America this whole time, Sifu.”
“Jie, what is it? What’s happening?” Meg’s voice was high pitched now.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t panic,” he whispered. “Li Sifu, if it had been me, wouldn’t I have explained my presence to you? How could you think it was me?”
“I...I don’t know. He looks just like you. You couldn’t speak. I thought it was an effect of your Change to the beast. He even has the same scar on his back as you have.” Li referred to the injury Jie had gotten in his youth when he’d fought a gang member in Beijing who’d lashed at him with a broken bottle. “I think you must come back to China now, son. Only your presence will clear up the problem.”
Jie exhaled, his insides twisting. He struggled to retain the peace that had flooded him moments before while taking in Meg’s yin. However, fighting for peace was a paradox, a useless struggle. He surrendered, allowed his anxiety to flow through him.
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