by Brenna Lyons
“I’ve had autonomy for four years. I never said I wouldn’t take release. I’m not asking you to print. I’m offering you release. I’m sure you’ve taken release before,” she commented acidly.
“That’s what you want?” he asked, pushing his hips against her rounded bottom again.
Suddenly, her release with other men wasn’t so painful to Curt. It would mean Erin didn’t need him to be gentle, when he wanted to push her beneath him and take her in hard, hot strokes. Was he really so shallow that her having other men was only acceptable if Erin had him, too? That was a subject for another time. For now, Curt simply wanted her to want him. The rest could wait.
Erin dropped her left blade to the ground and groaned, pushing herself back to brush by him. “Curt,” she breathed.
“Is it what you want?” he repeated, needing to hear that Erin wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“I don’t believe in baiting, Curt. Let me go, one way or the other. Please, don’t bait me.”
He loosened his grip on her hands and moved his leg to release hers and bring relief to his aching member. Curt expected her to retaliate for his treatment. Wanting him was simply too good to be true, and he knew it. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the blow she would strike.
Erin spun around, and he felt her blade at his throat. So, she’d leave a scar to remind him. He had seen that treatment before. Adam and Bryant learned from Calvin, and they believed in the old ways of training. When they trained Curt in Lewis’ place, he got the same. He accepted that he never should have released Erin while she still held her weapon, but he wanted so much to believe that she wasn’t baiting him.
“Look at me,” she rasped.
Curt opened his eyes. Her face was hard, and she shook in anger. Erin wanted him to see the attack, to know that his mistake could have been fatal.
“Why?” she demanded.
“Why what?” he managed, no longer sure what she was doing. Erin should have pointed out his mistake and made it painful. Why was she asking him questions?
“Why did you make that mistake?”
“I don’t know,” Curt admitted sheepishly, leaning his throat to her blade for the cold comfort of the familiar surface. “I knew you’d retaliate.”
Erin smoothed her free hand over the rigid length of him, and he shuddered in response. “Is this why?” she asked. “Did wanting me make you that sloppy?”
“Yes. I hoped…”
“What? What did you hope?”
“That you weren’t baiting me. That you really wanted to have sex with me.”
She nodded and sheathed her blade. “Good. Then, let’s get release, so we’ll both stop making stupid mistakes,” she decided.
Curt looked at her in shock, his breathing strangled. “You want— You made— Because of me?” he asked in awe, his blood heating at the prospect that he affected her that way.
Erin shrugged as she sheathed her other weapon and then his. Her hands moved to the buttons on his jeans. “You appeal to me.”
“Why?” he managed.
She looked at his face with wide eyes then blushed deeply as her face softened. “Your eyes,” she breathed. “They’re beautiful.”
Curt blushed. The midnight blue eyes that marked a Maher were always a source of ridicule. “My eyes? You like that?” he spat. His anger was forgotten immediately as her fingers brushed by the head of his erection, still undoing buttons patiently.
Erin smiled. “You’re a good fighter. I like the way you move — and you don’t treat me like a woman or a child.” She opened the last button and wrapped her fingers around him, never taking her eyes from his. “Do you want me, Curt?” she offered.
“Is it—” He groaned and bucked into her hand as she stroked him, unable even to sense her in his scattered state.
“I’m not high cycle,” she assured him. “Tell me what you want.”
Curt wrapped his arms around her, dragging Erin into a fierce kiss. Her initial hesitation disappeared, and she deepened the kiss, pulling lightly at him while her tongue explored his mouth, sparring with his own. Erin unbuckled his weapons belt and tossed it a few feet away, and he did the same for her. Curt dragged her t-shirt from her jeans and went to work on her zipper frantically.
Release! His body was screaming for release. Erin had him in a state unlike any he had experienced before. Curt felt as if he had to lose himself in her or he would expire, as if the last five years were endless foreplay leading to this moment.
He plundered her mouth while he stripped Erin’s clothing from her, breaking contact long enough to pull her shirt over her head and recapturing her before it had even cleared the crop of black curls around her ears. Erin pulled his shirt off his shoulders as Curt tossed her bra on the growing pile of clothing. She pressed her breasts, her nipples hard in her arousal, to his chest and breathed his name next to his ear.
Curt groaned and bent to suck at her hard nipples greedily. She cried out into his hair, trying unsuccessfully to muffle her reaction in his body. Her hands ran trails in his hair as she cradled his head to her breast.
“Say it again,” he pleaded as he moved to her other breast, teasing it as she arched it into his mouth. “Say my name again.”
Erin pulled him over her, lying back on the new grass. “Now, Curt,” she pleaded in return. “Take me now.”
He smiled wickedly and peeled her jeans down, dragging her boots off and uncovering Erin’s body until only her ever-present bracer graced her exciting form. “Perfect,” he decided. Curt ran his fingertips up the cleft between her thighs, finding her wet for him, and Erin spread further for him and arched to his touch. It was better than any daydream he ever had of her.
“Now, Curt,” she demanded.
His smile disappeared. Erin was ordering sex? He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with that. Then, he met her eyes. The longing there made him shiver in anticipation.
Curt nodded and covered her with his body, dragging his jeans down his legs as he settled between her thighs. If Erin let him take her again, he would be slow with her. This time, they each wanted something very different. “Now,” he agreed as he surged into her.
He stilled deep inside her, unsure of the sensation of claiming her. It hadn’t been right. Erin’s inner muscles clenched around him, not a gentle embrace as he would have expected. There had been an almost audible pop as he — crossed a barrier?
Curt cursed soundly as the truth hit him. He pushed up on his hands to stare at her. Erin’s teeth were gritted in pain, and her hands were locked around his hips roughly. She unclenched her jaw and panted as she relaxed her muscles around him and under him. Erin smiled as she lowered her head back to the grass.
“You’re untouched,” he ground out dangerously. How dare she let him think— He could have taken Erin gently. Curt should have taken her gently. He swore again.
“Not anymore,” she teased, trying to lighten his mood. She ran her hands over his buttocks and thighs slowly.
Unswayed, he glared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d never taken release?” he demanded.
“I have,” she insisted. Erin blushed as she read the fury on his face. “I just hadn’t taken a man before.”
“You pleasured yourself to release?”
She nodded slowly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you have agreed?” she countered.
Curt wrestled with that one. He wanted her. He wanted her desperately. But knowing she was untouched? He wouldn’t have taken her this way, certainly. Here and now? He couldn’t answer that. When Erin taunted him and offered it so freely, Curt assumed she was experienced at tawdry little affairs. Knowing she was untouched, would he have set out to claim her like this?
“You wouldn’t. You know you wouldn’t. I want you, Curt. That hasn’t changed.”
He shifted uncomfortably. Curt’s body still pulsed in his need, but his mind screamed at him to walk away — or to take her away to some situatio
n that was appropriate for taking her the first time. Taking her like this was wrong somehow, irreverent. He shook his head in frustration. Curt started to push away, intent on talking this out, on learning why she felt it necessary—
Erin locked her arms around his shoulders. “Please, Curt. I want you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Doesn’t that count for anything?” Tears welled in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away.
“Have you ever tried to get a Warrior to bed you before?” he asked weakly, praying he wasn’t just a means to an end.
Erin looked at him in shock. “No, I haven’t.”
“Why?”
She smiled wryly. “No one ever appealed to me before.”
Curt tightened at the thought. Erin saved herself for him. Not only was there no one else, but she hadn’t even considered anyone else.
He captured her mouth in a searing kiss and lunged into her again, muting both their cries with his mouth. Curt released her as the fire in his blood drove him on, taking her with a desperate need. In the end, he found he couldn’t wait for her. He groaned his climax, feeling his seed pour into her. Erin cried out sharply at the sensation, and he felt her inner muscles contracting rhythmically, drawing every drop of him out until he lay stunned over her.
Curt curled his face to her shoulder, kissing the blood mark at her throat. “Do I still appeal to you?” he asked in exhaustion. Never had he been so spent after sex, but it felt wonderful.
Erin chuckled and ran her hands through his hair. “I think it’s safe to say I’d spar with you again.”
“With blades or in your bed?” he inquired.
“I have to choose?” she teased. “Maybe we should arrange a few more private training sessions, just to be sure.”
That was a promising thought. If she was willing to take him again, he had a chance to convince Erin to more, but there were more pressing issues to be dealt with now.
Curt eased out of her and grimaced at the blood on Erin’s thighs and along his length. “This could be a slight problem,” he mused.
Erin sighed dramatically. “There’s a stream that feeds the lake twenty yards away, if you’re not afraid of cold water.”
He nodded. It was spring run-off. ‘Cold’ wouldn’t begin to describe the cold that water was, but it was fresh water.
“Will you continue to bleed?” he asked. Curt cringed inwardly at that. The first chance he’d ever had to deflower a virgin, and he botched it. He wasn’t even sure what to expect now. Every Warrior who talked about the experience had different recollections. Every woman was different, he supposed.
He pulled his jeans back up, cursing his lack of control. He shouldn’t have taken her this way, especially not once he knew it was her first time. The rules of sanction stated his course. Curt should have been gentle with her. Why hadn’t he been gentle with her?
She shrugged. “I’m barely bleeding now. If I do, it will only be a little. I can take care of it when we get back.” Erin looked at his furrowed brow and smiled. “I’ve already bled much less than my mother did, and she claims my father was as gentle as a man can be. Stop looking like you’ve wounded me.”
Curt helped her to her feet and followed her to the stream, smiling at the comfortable sway of her hips and her nude backside. Part of him, definite parts of him, wanted to drag Erin back to the soft grass for another go.
He shook himself mentally. Erin just lost her maidenhead. She was sure to be sore, and Curt already argued that it was inappropriate to take her this way for a first time. The next would be unforgettable for her. Once could not possibly be enough. He knew that now.
She waded right out into the cold, mountain water and sank to her knees. Erin scrubbed herself clean without even a shiver. Curt winced as he rubbed handfuls of the icy water over his thighs and his manhood, removing her blood and the remnants of his seed. He watched as she ran a handful of water over the back of her hair and neck, aching to chase the droplets over her skin.
“How can you do that?” he asked.
“New England mountains.” Erin smiled at him, and his breath caught at the glitter in her eyes.
He nodded grimly. Erin and her family rarely spent any length of time in one place. With the Cross family in New England, he was sure she had become acclimated to the area long ago.
They dressed in silence, and Erin returned to the stream to splash more water over her head and face, wetting her shirt slightly in the process.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Wet hair. It had to look like I did it this way originally, didn’t it?”
“In other words, this goes no further than us,” he guessed. So much for taking Erin in a bed next time — unless he wanted to sneak off to a hotel with her.
Erin smiled crookedly. “Do you make a habit of discussing it when you take release?” she asked.
Curt furrowed his brow. “Of course not.”
“Then, you have your answer.”
He nodded and followed her back to the house.
Talon and Kord were stretched out on the porch with a stack of research on the table between them, discussing whatever they were working on.
“How did you find my grandson, Erin?” Kord asked.
Curt straightened his back as she eyed him critically. For some reason, the fact that Erin had to consider it offended him. What did you expect? A gushing comment that you were the best she’s ever had? This is Erin.
“He has style, Lord Maher. Curt is the first worthy opponent outside my own family that I’ve encountered in a long time. You trained him well.”
Kord beamed at the compliment. “I thought he’d be a challenge for you. He is for me.”
Talon raised an eyebrow at her. “So, you’ve found someone worthy of your practice hours. That’s good. It looks as if you’ve had a workout,” he noted, brushing dirt from the curls over her ear.
Erin smiled a predatory smile at her father. “No man but you has ever swept me off my feet, Dad — until today. My bruised knees alone are worth a rematch.”
Kord laughed. “Really, Curtis. Is that any way to treat a lady?”
Curt smiled ruefully. “She’s no lady, Grandfather. Erin might have presented you with my head today if she had a mind to. All for those bruised knees, I might add. Learning to avoid that particular trick is worth a rematch.”
Talon smiled a secretive smile. “It sounds as if you have a lot to teach each other. I approve of this training time. Kord and I have a lot to work on anyway. It will be good to get a break.”
Curt nodded stiffly. “Thank you, Lord König. I’ll endeavor to teach Erin anything I can, but I doubt there’s much I can.”
That was a lie, he reminded himself. Erin was an innocent sexually, and Curt wanted to teach her everything he knew before she left again — if she left again. At least Erin saw him as a man, though Curt doubted he could ever see her as anything but a desirable woman who could take his head at a moment’s notice.
* * * *
Talon felt the beasts coming only a split-second after Erin did. Almost in unison, the rest of the Warriors launched to their feet and formed a fight ring in the living room. Three beasts lighted close to the door.
“There’s more,” Erin breathed. “They’re hiding but not ghosted.”
Talon nodded his agreement. He could sense at least six more. There were probably more ghosted. How the hell did the beasts track them here so quickly? More important, what would drive them to make so outward an attack? Why in these numbers when they knew who they faced?
“Name yourselves,” he required.
“Ruiz,” the Latino beast in the center said. He motioned right and left. “Minor and Fowler.”
“What do you want, beasts?”
Minor smiled a twisted parody of a smile, showing his extended fangs. “We’ve come for your Blutjagdfrau, König.”
Jayde laughed harshly. “I’m right here. Come for me if you dare.”
Ruiz joined in her laughter. “Not you, wom
an. We’ve come for your little one.”
Talon barely registered Curtis pushing Erin into the center of the group and closing her in with his muscular back.
“Curt, don’t do this to me,” she growled at him, her voice obviously intended for his ears only.
“Stay where you are, Erin,” Talon ordered.
She nodded quietly, but her Blutjagd stepped up another notch.
“What do you want with my daughter, beast?” he challenged.
“She’s a blood Warrior.” Ruiz shrugged, as if the answer should have been obvious.
“You have no use for her. You can’t reproduce. Or has your master decided to try and claim her again?”
Fowler took a step up to Ruiz and glanced over Talon’s shoulder. “I have a use for her,” he leered. “Taking the blood Warrior before we kill her could be a welcome distraction.”
“Why, beast?” Jayde demanded. “What has she done to injure you?”
Ruiz motioned as if his hands were tied. “We cannot allow more elder killers. She mates. She dies.”
Erin groaned and shook her head.
“Anything you want to share with the room, Erin?” Talon asked pointedly.
“I haven’t printed,” she complained. “You said if I felt myself printing— Dammit! You never said release.”
Talon nodded in understanding. “I should have been more specific,” he grumbled, annoyed at himself for so simple an oversight more than at Erin for exercising her rights.
“Guess that settled that argument,” Jayde sighed. “Curtis, you cover her back.”
“Yes, Lady König,” he replied confidently, his face a vivid crimson.
Fowler laughed heartily. “How was she, Curtis of Maher? Will she amuse us?”
Talon was heartened that Curtis didn’t so much as shift to look at the beast, holding position stalwartly while his jaw tightened. He was well trained, at least.
Talon shook his head at the phrase his daughter used. Swept me off my feet. At least, Erin really had bruised and brush-burned knees to back up part of that story.
