by Livia Quinn
Chapter 21
Pleasure pooled in her belly as his mouth came back down on hers. She loved the fact that he was romantic and wanted to list her attributes; she liked his as well, but there was a time for talk and this wasn’t it. She pulled on his hair to bring him closer, devoured his mouth with hers, sucked on his tongue while her hand roamed over his granite length, stroking his skin until she felt fire oozing along her cheek. Her hand went to her cheek reflexively, feeling for a burn and found it cool to the touch.
She drew back to look at him. His irises were a fiery orange, the tiny stream of fire that trickled from his nostrils wound down her neck. She followed its path as it sizzled its way along the front of her shirt, circled her nipples, lighting up the nerves to her center. His tongue teased her bottom lip and plunged in to dual with hers.
Her eyes closed as he scooped her up, deepening the kiss and striding across the lawn for the woods. She looked up at him quizzically. “More room,” he said succinctly, then he set her down on the wide sawed-off trunk of an ancient cypress and started removing his swords.
She was naked before he’d ditched the swords, because when it came to the Dark Knight, she didn’t want to miss a thing. He smiled seductively, much like a male burlesque dancer might do to entice more tips, then he untied one leather strip from his brawny arm. Thinking he would move to the next arm, she watched curiously as he reached for his belt and dropped it beside him with a clink. Next went the wrist guards, a boot, the other leather strip…
The flex of his biceps made her stomach grip with lust, but when he dropped those strange silky gauchos, her breathing hitched and she felt herself go wet.
“Mother of Zeus, Conor, but you are beautiful.” He stood, a statue of an ancient conqueror as she approached, placed both hands on his chest, stroked the length of his torso, absorbing his heat. He really was like a giant furnace, with heat emanating from every pore.
Her hands itched to feel the black leathery skin on his wide muscled shoulders. Under her fingers they felt surprisingly soft, like the way snakeskin was slick and pliable, not wet or rough like you expected. They fluttered a bit at her ministrations and she guessed it was a sensual quiver, since his pecs jumped as well.
Something bounced against her belly and she looked down. He was long and thick, and waiting patiently for her to finish exploring. But she was far from finished. Her hands grasped his wrists, though her fingers could only fit around half the circumference. He allowed her hands to travel over him.
Watching his face as the flames leaped in his eyes, she trailed her fingertips across the massive width of his hand, bumped over his knuckles, reached under them and lifted, joining her fingers with his. His arms were heavy so he held them aloft where she placed them and smiled as she moved in closer, rubbing her lower body against him, dragging her nipples against his torso, across his hot smooth skin.
She closed her eyes, inhaling his scent, feeling his desire as a low hum of vibration, then as a growl rumbling up from a deep well. Powerful arms plucked her from the ground as if she were a slender nymph and carried her to a lush grassy place beneath some thick cedars. Lowering her to the ground with one arm, he followed, his black hair flowing around her head as he devoured her mouth with a kiss meant to claim.
His unique scent surrounded her as their tongues tangled like mating snakes and their bodies responded to the urge to complete the love play their mouths enacted. A wide splayed hand dragged down her toned stomach to dip into the wet crevice below. His lips left her mouth and drew a path down her throat with fiery hot kisses, to her chest, laving her nipples, navel, and lower.
Conor spread her legs so he could dip into the honeyed sweetness of her juices. She was ready for him but he intended to take his pleasure only after he sent her to the stars. She was not one to relinquish control and he reveled in her trust, in the way her limbs went limp before him, allowing him to simply feast on her, sipping at her core, suckling her nipples while she writhed with pleasure and encouraged him assertively.
He smiled at her crude commands, a warrior through and through was his Branislava. He spoke her name reverently just to watch her eyes flare with irritation. “But you’re glorious, love. You cannae deny your name. This ‘Montana’ is still within you but I’m loving the warrior, the defender at the heart of your strength.”
Her breathing increased and Conor drove one finger into her as he kissed the bud protected within the swollen petals at her center. As her back arched she cried out, and screamed his name. He lifted her into his hands and spun toward the trunk of the nearest tree, plunging up deep inside her as she throbbed around him, squeezing him tightly and taking him deeper with every driving thrust. He plowed her receptive heat until she was panting his name, begging him not to stop. He didn’t want to, but Gods it was too good. She was too tight, and it was meant to be now.
He roared as he reached new territory, as it were, somewhere neither had been before, not just a physical summit but a wellspring of feelings based on mores, history, passion, practices and common purpose. A smile curved his lips.
If he told her he’d never experienced such in thousands of years, she would probably not let him touch her again. He walked with her legs wrapped around him, her head against his shoulder, arms limp at her sides.
Well, at least there was that, he thought. Then, she stirred.
Chapter 22
Conor’s large hand splayed gently across Montana’s back as he sat on the ground, the large shaft inside her coming to life once again and pushing into her. He plucked her arms from her sides and pulled her across him to gaze into her eyes.
There was that smug, I’m-the-baddest-dragon-on-the-block look again. Well, she’d give him that. She’d never felt more fulfilled by a lover before. She’d wanted to believe it had been just a matching of needs, purely sexual compatibility because of what they shared… but was there more to it?
She ran her tongue across that wide smiling bottom lip and tugged it into her mouth as she angled her hips into his taking him deeper. Then she raised her arms above her head, lifted her hair, thrust her breasts up toward him, and watched his eyes change again, taking on that orangy color she knew meant he was on fire for her.
She moved her hips seductively, angling from alternating directions until he groaned and pushed up into her. Then lowering her hands to his rock hard abdomen, she rode the dragon, hard and fast.
She pushed him, met each of his upward thrusts with a plunge of her own, taking him so deep it was a wonder he didn’t carve her in two. And then light splintered in a thousands shards of fiery sparks, her vision going dim as she closed her eyes briefly to savor the pleasure unlike ever before.
When she opened them, there was no longer a smug expression on his face, but one of such intense bonding and confidence, it made her nervous to contemplate it. He let her slide off but caught her before she could stand and pulled her down to him, cuddling her in the snow, his natural heat keeping her nice and toasty.
Trying to distract him because this was getting way too… cosy, she said, “You never did tell me why you’re here. And don’t give me a line about being here to show me your moves. I’ve seen them, and you’re still here.”
“I am charged with watching over a new Paramortal.”
A new Paramortal. “Tempe?” or Jordie…With his head resting on one massive bicep, he moved it back and forth. “Okay keep your secret, but what about this weakness you mentioned to me earlier?”
He chuckled and she felt the reverberation through her back, “I have only one, and luckily it’s nae been an issue, because I wouldnae be in combat with one whom I’d been loving.”
“Ahh,” she said, rolling up, with sudden inspiration.
“I have a question though,” he asked.
She waited. He looked like he was embarrassed. “What’s a… mudbug?”
Montana laughed. “It’s not what you’d think. Simply a small crustacean folks around here eat. They crawl out of the mud in the
winter and spring.”
“Ach, I thought t’was some fearsome enemy I’d not heard of.”
Montana said, “How about you tweak my hand-to-hand skills, drago?”
He grunted. “I dislike this word ‘drago’. It is slander?” He set her free and rose while she stretched taking a stance opposite him. He cocked his head awaiting an answer, running his eyes over her.
“Think of it as a pet name,” Montana said, flexing her neck from side to side and swinging her arms. He frowned down at her as his eyes tracked to her bouncing breasts, his cock rising once again. “Conor, what you need is a good fight. The winner gets a reward,” she teased, getting the reaction she expected, the lifted brow, and the sexy confidence.
“Ach, well then, you should simply come here and let me take my bounty.”
“Uh-uh. Let’s work to my choice of music this time, a song by a young entertainer who has made a big difference to many of my young women. Last year she performed for the girls at my Destiny shelter. She’s someone they can aspire to be, to overcome their present circumstances. In any age, she would have been an advocator for women, ahead of her time.”
She started humming as she moved step over step in a circle around him. He watched her, and one careful step after another got into the rhythm, as she sang, “I knew you were trouble when you walked in,” sidearm, chop, counter, “…you took me to places I’ve never been…” spin, chop, duck, punch.
He grinned and got into the fight, neatly turning her blows, striking her in the side, but not with all his might, the damned chicken. She’d show him. “Fight, Conor. I’m not some novice off the volunteer draft line.” She pounded her chest and nearly burst out laughing when his eyes widened on her breasts. “I am Dinnshencha. I will defeat you.”
Hah, that got through. His speed increased as she sang, the song’s lively rhythm setting a challenging pace. Moves matched beats, her breathing increased but she controlled it. She met his chop with her forearm, spun and ducked, punched. He twirled. It was a beautiful movement on one leg and his nakedness merely put each muscle and tendon into their best light as he lifted off the ground, shifted into dragon form and landed beside her as if to say, What will the Dinnshencha do with this?
She looked up into that smug expression, remembering his earlier words as she stood nearly eye to eye with his dragon danglies, and without telegraphing, smiling, breathing or in any way announcing her next move, she struck, nailing the large but tender dragonly parts with two rapid blows.
At first, nothing happened. Then an unpleasant malodorous smoke blew out of his snout and his head teetered on his neck like a bobble-headed dragon toy. His back bowed, shoulders drooped, and his long neck whipped around in an arc. Montana scampered back; he was going down. She yelled, “Conor, wake up!” He just groaned, and the sound was horrible.
His giant head rolled to the right and knees shaking, he sagged. His wings clipped the limbs off the cypress trees and then all forty-feet of fierce, invincible dragon spiraled to the ground with a shuddering crash, rocking Montana down onto her knees. The massive mountain of black scales took in a long shuddering breath, and let out a painful rasp.
The bigger they are… the harder they fall. She smiled. She just couldn’t help it. He had told her he was afraid she wouldn’t be able to take down a truly fearsome being, like him. She felt somewhat bad because he wouldn’t have shared his secret with just anyone. Ironic, really. Someone might even say it was a cheap shot. Well, he’d said, “Fight as if to the death”, not believing for a minute that she could bring him down. And she hadn’t killed him, though he might wish she had.
Montana crawled over to him, humming, stroking his handsome horned forehead. As one bleary eye the size of her head drifted open, she sang, “Now you’re lying on the cold, cold ground.”
The eye closed and a very big wheeze escaped him. Aww. She watched him until he started to change back. It took longer this time.
When he was once again a naked Knight, she stroked his human brow, regretting the pain she’d caused him. She thought of the old adage, This will hurt me more than it hurts you. Her heart flipped when he sighed and looked up at her.
“You, my precious one, are a devilishly vicious woman.” One side of his mouth crooked up in a smile, then he moaned and covered his groin as if fearing she might take another shot. “Twas a lesson bought and paid for. One I shall remember forever.”
She lay next to him while he recovered. She could see why he hadn’t shared his secret. He’d been laid very low, put completely out of commission, not a good thing for someone of his power and size to be that vulnerable. Perhaps she should stay close when he fought, protect his low side. But he’d said it wasn’t a problem unless he was fighting the one he’d been intimate with. That made her feel even worse.
He shared his secret with you… her conscience niggled. She sighed and made her decision to share her own secret with him though she might be sorry. How would he feel when he found she was a some-time blood sucker? Many in her past had been disgusted by the knowledge, disdained her and turned away. After what she’d just done, would he still trust her after knowing everything about her?
She propped her head on her hand and the next time he opened his eyes, said, “You may wish you hadn’t trained me, once you know my secret.” She sighed. “Rafe and I have an arrangement, but it’s not about sex. He gives me blood.” She showed him her fangs. His brows lifted. He stroked her hair away from her face, stared into her eyes with his fathomless black ones and said, “Bite me.”
Chapter 23
Her first thought was that once again she’d been rejected because of her nature. “Well, that’s a helluva note.”
Then he turned his face away from her, his big hand reaching up to gather his hair, exposing his strong corded neck. The pulse at his throat marked the vein through which his rich, no doubt, magical blood flowed. She swallowed the lump in her throat and wondered at him through blurry vision. He was one surprise after another. She’d never known a man, or a creature, like him.
The ground would have been icy, but he’d used his breath to create a warm place for her to lay beside him. He could have used his power to terrorize, and strength to overwhelm, but he showed her only tenderness and protection and selfless caring.
And now, in a weakened state with his neck vulnerable and exposed, he offered his very blood, along with his total trust. Their swordplay had been more than instructional; it was passionate and primal. It seemed almost as if her Dinnshencha had found her soul mate.
“Thank you, Conor, but I’ll take a raincheck.” In answer to his dubious expression, she kissed him. “Let’s see what happens tomorrow. I need to send Jack a text about something that happened earlier.” She laid her hand against his heart, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I’m sorry as well.” His eyes glinted with laughter. “It hurt like hell, ye ken? But I have only me’self to blame, Victoria. Ach, today, it suits you, so don’t protest. That lesson will benefit us both. I’m proud of you. If I could,” he sighed and winced, “I’d show you how much.”
She rolled onto her back and reached for him. He spread her legs gently, ran those big hands reverently, slowly down each “luscious” inch of her body. It turned out he had more in his repertoire than just the old standards.
The sound of thunder woke Tempe from her nap. Blearily she walked to the kitchen window looking for the noise and froze. Not thunder. Freddie the Toolman had removed the huge sheet of black plastic covering her dining room window and the sight that almost drove her to her knees was accompanied by frigid air and light snow blowing in through the window opening. How could she have slept through the racket of the rented crane and preparations to install the replacement window?
She leaped from the couch intending to call out… to stop him from destroying yet another costly pane, but paused in the opening. Instead of her usual bumbling handyman, Freddie was working the controls like a pro. Who in their right minds had turned Freddie loose
with heavy equipment? If he knew how to operate a crane, why didn’t he concentrate on that, rather than piddling with fixit tasks he inevitably screwed up?
He pointed to the man holding the edge of the large windowpane and shouted at him, “We’re going straight in, just don’t let go of that corner. This window is going to be installed without a hitch this time or my name isn’t Freddie Taylor.”
Tempe smiled. She’d better change and get out there before things went South again, she thought, even though Freddie seemed to be making all the right choices.
She was still dressed in the storm gray ball gown. She surveyed the damage her morning jaunt had done to it. The hem was dirty and a bit ragged but all in all it had survived fairly well. She’d have it cleaned and hemmed and it would suit to box up and pull out twenty years from now to look back on a memorable night.
Even after a long nap, she felt weary, sore, and unhappy. The soreness was understandable given that she and Jack had spent nearly three hours making love prior to the rude arrival of his ex. The weariness , the after-effects of everything that had gone down in the last two weeks, but with the exception of the approaching Chaos, things had turned around. River was safe, she hoped. Jack had explained G-Crazy’s arrival and practically begged her to understand. She couldn’t put her finger on the problem. Maybe she just needed a good night’s sleep.
They all had to be on alert for the next twenty-four hours though, so she’d better double up on the caffeine. What could she do to help? She had no power, and not enough history as a Paramortal to offer much input into their strategies. Maybe that was it—she’d just accepted her part in the community and now… it almost seemed as if she’d lost more than just her Tempestaerie power.
Freddie seemed to be experiencing the opposite. Perhaps the full moon was more enhanced during Para-moon. Aurora or someone would document all the challenges and circumstances brought about by the Coincidence, but what good would it do? The next one might not happen for hundreds of years.
