Myla By Moonlight

by Inez Kelley

  He had never seen her naked beneath the moonlight and his throat closed in want. The glimpse was too brief. Without warning, she placed one hand over the other, stretched them above her head and dove. Her jaguar broke the glittery surface beside him. Myla scoffed at his tease but in her own defiant manner.

  His humor echoed back to him through the night. “I prefer to bathe with my lover, not my pet. Be my woman, Myla, and trust me. I won’t let you drown.”

  The cat swam away from him with a chuffing huff. If it were possible, he could have sworn she grumbled with each powerful stroke. After two laps around him, each one made with livid slanted eyes, the jaguar shifted.

  Taric’s hands slid around her waist instantly and he felt the warm fur melt into gooseflesh. The touch that gripped his shoulders was clawed in nothing more than short fingernails.

  “I’ve got you,” he soothed. Her grasp grew frantic. “Put your feet down, you can stand.”

  Shivering, the water skimming the upper curve of her breasts, she released one hand long enough to push wet hair from her face. “I don’t like this. The ground shifts.”

  “Just hold on to me.” Stepping closer, Taric drew her into his arms. Hard and pointed, her nipples bit into his chest and her arms clutched tighter. He was suddenly very grateful the water was cold. Her chin quivered against his shoulder. “We have to warm you up. Come on, swim with me.”

  “I can’t.” Panic softened her words and she wrapped herself tighter around him. Despite the frigid temperature, his body began to respond, thickening against her belly.

  “Trust me.” Stealing a quick sip of her chilly mouth, he glided deeper into the slow river, pulling her with him.

  Her nails dug into his skin but she didn’t fight him. In a few moments, she relaxed enough to help, kicking out and stroking one arm. The other stayed firmly around his shoulder. Warmth came with movement.

  When she began to smile, he returned them where he could stand. “Now, first lesson, lie back on my arm and float.”

  Her creamy throat moved with a swallow but fear and Myla did not mesh well and she tried to obey. She tried three times but each attempt ended up with her waist bending and her behind pulling her down. She sputtered and growled wordlessly, growing more frustrated with each endeavor.

  Finally, he stretched his arm beneath her, along her spine, his hand cupping her ass, his shoulder pillowing her head. He let her rest there while her muscles loosened and she caught the movement of the water. Slowly, Taric guided her along the faint ripples until she began to feel the buoyancy and let it move her rather than fight it. He moved his palm with reluctance up to her spine to keep her from floating away from him. She trusted him completely. His chest tightened beneath his bondmark.

  Myla by moonlight was mesmerizingly beautiful. Silver moonbeams danced along the water and coated her flesh in sparkling incandescence. Liquid diamonds infused her with a glow. The dark water only made her skin more ethereal. Her breasts peeked between tiny waves, dark peaks tempting him, appearing and disappearing with the river’s kiss. Her stomach beaded with droplets, trickling to her navel and pooling in a small well. Farther from him, the sparse triangle above her thighs blended into the water’s ink.

  Her wide eyes trained on the speckled sky, she gasped. “Taric, look at the stars. Have you ever seen anything so…lovely?”

  “No,” he answered with a whisper but had yet to look above. She had stolen a star from the heavens, swallowed it and radiated glowing beauty from each pore.

  Myla turned her head to look at him and her body began to sink. Taric circled her waist until she had her footing.

  “You did not even look at the sky.”

  “I don’t have to. I see the stars in your eyes.”

  Her lips parted in surprise and he couldn’t resist a taste. Cool flesh heated with soft friction and growing desire. Her hair fanned along the current, winding around them to embrace his back with tickling brushes. She eagerly caressed his mouth with hers, one hand sliding into his wet hair, the other stroking down his chest. Her fingers touched his mark and she stilled, pulling her lips from his kiss.

  Taric followed her gaze downward. “You haven’t mentioned it even though I know you’ve felt the mark in the darkness.” Searching her face, he waited for her words but none came. “Myla, you know what this is?”

  “Yes.” Up and down, her fingertip traced the edges. “I have no words.”

  “You’re my heartmate, Myla. The only woman I can ever love.”

  “But we cannot be.” Her eyes flew to his and the stars there turned liquid.

  Holding her tighter, determination burst through him. They could be and they would be. He’d find a way. “Do you love me, Myla? You give me your love with your body but not once have you told me.”

  She shuddered but stayed silent. Air would not flow to his lungs. His father’s words snaked through his mind. Not all heartmates match. Deep inside him, an agonized scream began but Taric kept his jaw tight. Her eyes closed and her mouth thinned. Fear sank spiked talons into his soul and he hastily took her mouth, desperate to feel their connection. Her lips stayed thin.

  “Myla.” Nipping her mouth, he struggled to contain his terror. “Do you love me?”

  “I was created to love you, Taric.”

  “No.” Wrenching his mouth from hers, he held her in front of him, fingers around her arms. He waited an eternity until her eyes opened. “Not like that. Me, Taric, the man in front of you now. Not your charge or your duty or your mission. Just me. What do you feel for me, Myla?”

  Insects clamored in the darkness, stretching the moment until he thought his skin would split with pain. Darkened by the night shadows, her eyes matched the moss along the bank and were just as still. They never left his chest and never blinked. The water’s chill permeated to his marrow. Once more, her chin began to quiver.

  “Love, so much love.” So soft he barely heard, her whisper warmed the scar above his heart. Warmed it from within. “I do not wish it but I love you. Every drop of my spirit weeps with love so fierce it could melt steel. But it cannot change what was never meant to be. Your mark is my magic’s shame…and my woman’s joy.”

  “It’s your mark, Myla. I’m just blessed enough to carry it.”

  The cool water swirled around her skin and her feet sank into sandy earth, but Myla felt nothing but the stroke of his hand against her cheek. Even knowing her love cursed him, ending his line and forfeiting his crown, he considered himself blessed? His words shook her to her magical core. This love, the love she shared with Taric, astounded her in its power. She had no words to express her emotion, hadn’t learned the things a woman says to man to tell him how he made her complete. The only thing she knew was what he’d taught her.

  Her hands braced on his shoulders, Myla rose to her toes and took his mouth. She poured her love into the kiss, deepening it and drawing a soft sound from his chest. Her tongue danced with his. A firmness stirred against her belly and she ground into it. His hands slid from her arms to encircle her waist. Their warmth battled the chilled water, friction dispelling her shivers.

  Beneath the ripples his palms cupped her behind and tugged her closer. Slick and questing, his tongue sought the deepest regions of her mouth. It wasn’t enough, she wanted more. She wanted everything. She wanted him.

  A riotous trampling sounded from the other side of the copse accompanied by loud male voices and laughter. The interruption came closer and grew louder. Myla’s whimper of frustration bounced off Taric’s groan and she pulled away. Sand sucked at her feet, slowing her. Her eyes caught his in a promise of “later” seconds before she shifted and her jaguar swam away with a deprived growl. Taric responded in kind, the sound rattling his chest.

  Three boisterous soldiers came into view. Myla leapt to the shoreline, shaking her fur in a furious quake, dousing the interlopers. Her snarl made them pause in fright but she didn’t care. Her body hummed with unfulfilled desire and sinking her fangs into the interrupting so
ldiers was almost too great an urge to resist.

  His jaw gritted in impatient annoyance, Taric swam to the bank and retrieved his soap. The passionate grappling had left him hard and aching and in no mood for horseplay but he couldn’t leave the water in front of his men with a throbbing erection. While the cool river did its best to ease his discomfort, he quickly lathered his body and hair, plunging headfirst into the current to rinse away the film and the lust. The soldiers leapt into the water with abandonment that turned to yelps of cold. They splashed with boyish exuberance to warm themselves.

  The river quieted his flesh and Taric headed toward the water’s edge. Myla’s red chiton caught his eye. It fluttered in the slight breeze like a flag. Shooting a glance over his shoulder to find the men engaged in their own rituals, he snagged the fabric with wet hands and balled it inside his tunic. He wasted no time in drying, simply pulling his breeches over dripping skin. But he did drop his toweling cloth over two tiny leather sandals and a belt, scooping them up unnoticed.

  An ebony feline lip curled at his actions. He spied the smirk and chuckled. Even as a cat, Myla delighted him.

  The soldiers’ playful laughter faded as Taric and jag trotted toward his tent, each eager to enact on promised release. The night air sucked the water from his skin. Padded paws barely disturbing the grasses, his guardian bounded before him. The moonglow shimmered across her inky fur, the powerful muscles gliding in grace not unlike her armored movements. How she encompassed beauty in any form astounded him, and his blood began to surge once more.

  She cocked her great head and fixed her feline eyes on him. A sultry awareness bathed across his freshly washed body. How he wanted her. She nosed the tent flap aside and entered.

  The night watchman’s call rang out and Taric bit back a curse but turned to the man. Duty could be a pain in the ass but could not be ignored. A few words of meaningless prattle were exchanged before he could escape.

  His tent was dark, the candle snuffed out. Hungry lips met his in the shadows. Dropping the bundle, he reached for her and slid his arms around smooth, warm skin. She’d shifted back without clothing and his breeches impeded her fingers’ quest.

  He wasted no time shedding the damp pants and drawing her to the pallet, his tongue sliding down her throat. Her slight moan spiked his growing desire with a jab. Maybe it was her bondmark, maybe it was the nearly forbidden touch of a being not quite human, but Taric had never longed for one woman as much in his life.

  Myla eased his hands away from her breasts and pulled back from him. Perplexed, he searched the darkness, wishing he could see her eyes. Did she have her jag’s night vision? Could she see his frown?

  Her husky whisper caressed him in place of fingers. “I sense things, see beyond the campground.”

  “What? What do you see?”

  “Things…acts of passion from your soldiers and the women who trail behind, those who take payment for loving.”

  Fighting a smile, he lay back, tugging her closer. “The whores are part of battle, I’m afraid. They earn their coin well and keep infighting down.”

  “They do things, things I find curious. Things you have not shown me.”

  Unseen in the dark, his pulse leapt and jerked his lust to a higher notch. “They do.”

  A purr colored the night, sending a shower of heat coursing through his blood. Her hand circled him. “I learn well by watching.”

  Her name was on his lips but never reached the air. The wet warmth of her mouth closed around him. A groan replaced her name as she slid downward, drawing him deeper. Her barely damp hair fell around his hips and his teeth clamped down hard to prevent crying out at the exquisite touch.

  Myla didn’t lie. She learned very well from watching. Gliding over his length in slow, torturous pleasure, she teased him to a pant. It wasn’t just her lips and tongue, but her hands cupping and caressing him. Crackles of heat scourged his skin when she swallowed. A breath shuddered out and his hips arched closer to the delight of her mouth when a soft feminine laugh tickled him.

  “I like this. It’s…powerful.” Her tongue grazed his base, followed a line of nerves to the tip and circled. Fists knotting the blanket, he couldn’t find any words to answer. Petal-satin lips trailed along his flesh before engulfing him once more. The silk of her hair brushed against him in time to her sway.

  The drumbeat in his blood matched her rhythm and his thighs tensed. The night shrank until it only existed in his tent, not even there, more centered around his pallet and the siren who called to him without song. Outside the canvas room, life slipped away. Each nibble and caress focused the sensations tighter until nothing existed except her lips around him.

  Myla played. Like a cat with a bit of yarn, she nipped and licked until his hands left the blanket and buried themselves in her hair. Her name finally whispered from his throat and he felt her smile against him but she did not slow her pursuit. A broad swath from a flattened tongue began and did not end until he gasped.

  She may have learned too well. Taric drew her upward. He stole one long, delicious kiss from her lips before sinking lower, intent on showing her even more pleasure. Distracting him from his downward path, the peaks of her hardened nipples tempted his tongue and he lapped each one, suckling until her back arched in delight and mewled sounds decorated the air.

  He had not taken time to shave, being too eager to join her in his tent, and the day’s growth on his cheeks scraped her skin. He tried to be gentle but her fingers sank into his wet hair and clasped him closer. He drew out her torment until her noises grew in intensity.

  His mouth sank lower to her stomach and she accommodated him by rising to her knees. The swell of her behind fit firmly into his palms and he lifted her, turning her beneath him without breaking contact with her skin.

  She’d been so innocent before, he’d only teased her lightly, but if she was drawing information through her magical gifts, she was ready for more. And he longed to give her more.

  Skimming his hands up her long legs, he tenderly parted her thighs. She faltered in surprise and his smile grew. She may have thought he was overeager. He’d never moved to enter her this fast but there were some things a man never paid a whore for, things he wanted to share with Myla. Her palms trembled, stroking his shoulders, ready to embrace him as he plunged inside her, but he didn’t rise. The toned satin of her thigh quivered under his mouth. He sank lower.

  Feminine perfume grew thicker, his lips inching closer to her core. Taric thought surely she must have guessed his destination so when his kiss traced her honeyed lips, her buck surprised him. How innocent she still was. Delving deeper inside the creamy folds, her shuddered moan of his name seized his gut with a ferocious grip. Nestled in softness, the tiny nub of her center beckoned his tongue.

  Her fingers clenched tight in his hair and she gasped. Her hips thrust up. Shards of erotic pain and pure masculine domination washed over him. You belong to me. No man has ever, will ever touch you like this. You’re mine. The powerful thought rushed to his head and his groin at the same instant and the scratch of his wool blanket was nearly too intense. Bracing his forearm across her hips, he held her to his mouth and lavished every drop of love into his strokes.

  The sweeter flavor of her climax bathed his tongue and she cried a wordless note. Her legs twitched and her hips quaked. He softened his touch, easing her down from her frantic flight. Heaving pants rang loud in the darkened space.

  “Why?” Her words were raspy, tattered by release. “We did not—”

  “We will. Later.” His promised was muffled by kisses peppered along her lower belly.

  “But…I flew. Aren’t we… Isn’t that the end of our loving?”

  His chuckle warmed her skin under his lips. “One way a woman is much more blessed than a man is that there’s no limit to the times she flies. For a man, once he’s flown, he needs time to recover.”

  A shocked stillness rippled the air. “I can fly again?”

  He did not answer with w
ords. Instead, his tongue grazed along her stomach. The bones of her hips became a map and his mouth followed their pathway upward to the valley of her navel, the incline of her ribcage, the mountains of her breasts. The vale above her collarbone was made for his tongue and he pressed a kiss firmly there. He stole one kiss from her lips then sank lower again.

  Nipping above her knee, he traced a moist line with nibbles and kisses, his fingers seeking the slick source of her heat. He tempted the tiny hidden bud and her buttery softness quivered. She rocked into his caresses and gripped his arms. His name became a breathless chant and he increased his touch. Her feet digging into the pallet, she gasped, flying once more.

  Victory shot through his soul but he did not decrease his attentions. He’d won a battle, twice, but there was a war in the tent he was fighting now. How many times could Myla taste pleasure’s heights before his body demanded the same? Slipping his tongue inside her gasping mouth, he sucked the sweetness from her lips and clamped down on his own longings.

  She never had the chance for retreat before the upswell of sensations gripped her again. This time a woman’s scream rent the air in an impassioned voice any could have heard. He didn’t care. Her flesh still trembled next to his and heat scorched his hands as they smoothed along her body.

  She recognized his pathway now and moaned in exhausted anticipation. Slick beneath his lips, she tasted of honeyed passion tinged with salted exertion. The heady fragrance filling the night infused him with blood-pounding lust and he fought the urge to hurry. No, he would not be hurried with this.

  His hand cupped the round flesh of her behind and opened her fully to his mouth. Myla whimpered above him, her fingers shaky and blindly skimming his shoulders. Slow teases and licks drifted her along a calming river until she shifted closer to him, eager once again for his caress.

  How could this be? How could she tremble with desire, her body cream to his touch and her emotions soar beneath his caress, if she weren’t real? It wasn’t fair. She felt, smelled, tasted like a woman. Why couldn’t he make her a woman all the time? What piece of the puzzle was he missing? She belonged in this world with him, by his side for always not just in his bed in stolen moments.