Amina heard her sister’s words in her mind. Since their mother’s death, she trusted only her twin and Raphael, especially after Mariam’s kinswoman betrayed her to the Moors to save her own life. Trust was too precious a commodity. Her mother’s death was proof.
She would tell Drake about his son, but she would not give him her heart.
The sound of boots hitting the floor shook her from reverie. Amina sucked in a ragged breath when Drake began to undress. His body had the power to command hers, no matter how angry she might be with him. Her tongue snaked out to lick her bottom lip when he eased the linen shirt off.
She searched the intricate web of scars scattered across his skin for new wounds, wincing when she spied the puckered flesh just below his collar bone and recalled how he received the scar.
Drake slowly undid the satin ribbon to his breeches, his gaze pulling hers to his eyes. His breeches fell to his ankles and he stood naked before her. A yearning so intense slammed into her she swayed. Her hand pressed the mattress to keep her upright.
When clothed, Michael Drake was gorgeous. Without his garments, the man was breathtaking. It was all she could do not to drop to her knees, crawl to where he stood, and take him into her mouth. She wanted to run her hand along the lean muscles of his hips until it rested on his thigh and feel the subtle vibration of blood rushing through his veins beneath the pressure of her touch, her lips wrapped around the silken steel of his penis.
“Why do you want to hate me, hawk?”
She lifted her gaze to Drake’s face, witnessed the sly grin, and fisted her hands to keep from scratching the arrogance from his amused eyes. He raked his fingers through his hair and closed the distance between them.
“If you have no answer, then we have other matters to attend. In bed.”
“No,” she snapped. “There is nothing I want to do in that bed except sleep.”
His laughter echoed in her ear as he caught her up and tossed her onto the bed. He pushed her gown up and over her head, his gaze sweeping her body. “Are you certain?”
“Very much so.”
Drake grinned. “You do not lie very well, Amina.” A calloused hand moved across her belly, an erotic abrasion that made her instantly wet for him. “Your skin is the color of Devon honey.”
His green eyes brightened as he moved to cover her, his knees pushing her thighs apart. “Hate is such a wasted emotion. I’d rather you love me.”
She glared at him, ignoring the intoxicating sensations his fingers sent curling across her bare skin. His fingers stroked their way to her breast, circling once and then twice before pinching the nipple. Her body jerked as pleasure shot through her.
“Why fight me? You can’t win,” he murmured.
He took her taut bud between his teeth and nipped, hard enough to send pleasure and pain racing to her womb. His tongue rasped over the sensitive skin, a caress as gentle as the bite was rough. Amina moaned as he suckled. She sighed when his mouth ended his ministrations.
“Drake,” she groaned.
He chuckled and kissed her other breast. “I would not have this one become jealous.”
Her body responded to his lovemaking with a fervor that amazed her. No matter what vow she made, her body was set on betrayal when it came to Michael Drake. Her hips arched in a silent plea and he adjusted himself so the broad head of his penis pressed against the opening of her already wet channel.
A sigh of pleasure rolled off Amina’s lips before she snatched her self-control from the edge. Her fingers pressed against his chest, ineffectual but defiant.
“My body may be yours to toy with, but not my will.”
Drake stared at Amina. He was accustomed to her defiance, since it made for extraordinary games of pleasure in their bed. This time was different. He sensed a disquiet in her he’d not witnessed before. He examined her thoughts and found himself completely shut out.
He pushed. Let me in, hawk.
She pushed back. Not this time, dragon.
The feel of her response against his awareness was one of despair, not anger. Drake knew he would get no more from her and chose not to press. She would speak her mind when she was ready.
At the moment, he wanted to forget the angry exchange between him and his brother over his bond with Amina. He refused to give up the only woman to bring him true happiness. Catherine’s death freed him to love Amina and take her as his wife. He had left Plymouth estranged from his brother and disinherited by his father because he refused another wife.
Drake gazed at the brown-skinned beauty who owned his heart. Even if angelic prophecy had not decreed their mating, he would have claimed Amina. Whenever they were apart, he ached for her, for the feel of her silken skin beneath his hand, the exotic fragrance of her rose and frangipani scent, and the heat in her amber eyes as he loved her.
He took her nipple between his teeth and gently scraped the ridged flesh.
“Dragon.”
Drake smiled at the breathless utterance, and licked a path to her other mound. Amina’s body quivered beneath his mouth, the heated scent of her filling his nostrils. After he’d loved both breasts, he kissed a slow path to her stomach and a startling desire seized him. He wanted to see her swollen with his child.
He raised his head and brought his hand to her belly before he lowered his lips to kiss the smoothness. His hand still resting on her stomach, he felt a faint pulse ripple beneath his palm. Excitement burst inside him and he planted another kiss where his hand rested before his gaze went to her face.
“Do you carry my babe, Amina?”
She stiffened beneath him. Her silence lengthened and he wondered if he would have to battle her for the answer.
“I carry the Tamahaq’s child.”
“Should I have asked if the child is my seed?”
Her fist slammed into his shoulder, her umbrage nicking his mind. “Do you question my honor?”
Drake swallowed his amusement. “Never.”
“Your son grows in my body,” she conceded grudgingly.
“Then I will be gentle.”
Amina snorted. “You are a dragon. Satisfy your lust so I may rise from this bed.”
He grinned and shifted until his head was positioned between her thighs. He licked and kissed the inside of each thigh until he reached the folds concealing her seat of pleasure. He inhaled the scent of her. Lust rolled over him like a torrential rain and he couldn’t breathe, desire thick in his lungs. When he finally expelled a breath, light puffs of air flowed across her sex and Amina’s body trembled. Her juices leaked past clenched muscles.
“Delightful.”
Drake lapped the wetness with a long, sure stroke that traveled the length of her sex. “Delicious,” he murmured before reversing direction.
His mouth hovered over her hard nub and he inhaled. Amina’s hips came off the bed. Drake’s tongue lashed out and stroked her with a rough caress before his lips tenderly squeezed. “You taste of heaven.”
She tried to pull away from his mouth and his tongue curled around the stiff bud. He caressed it for a time before he lifted his head. “You would deny me this joy? Tsk, tsk.”
He lovingly caressed her into a near-paroxysm before his tongue sank deep inside her. Tremors rubbed against his tongue as it swirled and laved the succulent flesh. Amina pressed her hips down into the bed, her fingers fisted in his hair. Drake’s hands gripped her hips and brought her tight against his mouth. He varied his thrusts, some deep, others shallow, but never his tempo.
The sounds of her pleasure clawed at the edges of his mind. His cock was painfully hard, straining against the restraint he sought to impose on his need for Amina. And then a single word shattered the weighted silence in the room.
“Drake.”
He drew his tongue slowly along her quivering slit before raising his head to look at her. “Yes, Amina?”
Her head tilted and dark eyelashes flicked up, her pupils burnished gold. Her skin was marbled with the damp sheen of desire.
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“What is it you want? Tell me.”
“I need you inside me,” she whispered huskily. “Please.”
“In a moment, since you asked so prettily,” he said. “I’m not done here.”
Pleasure sucked the air from Amina’s lungs when his tongue delved deep. Her womb shuddered, an explosive reaction to the havoc created by Drake’s mouth. His tongue was relentless in its exploration, driving her into a mindless soaring. Soft mewls caught in her throat, inarticulate cries of longing and need. Her attempts to stave off her headlong descent into the abyss was futile. With a single stroke of his tongue, Drake sent her tumbling over the edge, her body seeming to come apart when the first wave struck.
Like a slow-moving heat storm, bliss erupted in her womb and spread across her body. Her limbs shook beneath the continued play of Drake’s tongue, her fingers gripping the silk bedcovers. There was no beginning or end to the storm. It was as if time ceased to exist. Pleasure crested and peaked until the gradual retreat of Drake’s mouth from her. It took Amina some time to find her way back to sanity.
Once her mind was her own, her fingers released their hold on the bedcovers, her body temporarily sated.
“Why do you want to hate me?”
She stared into a pair of emerald green eyes that left her breathless. With a saucy grin, she pressed her palms against Drake’s naked chest. “On your back, dragon, and I will answer your question.”
She bit back a laugh when his brow creased in a frown. After a second or two, he obeyed. Amina quickly straddled him before he could change his mind. Her thighs clamped about his hips so his shaft nestled against her damp curls. She remained motionless, her eyes noting every plane, line, and curve of his handsome face. Her son would wear his father’s face behind the Tamahaq’s color.
Her eyes locked on a recent scar on the underside of his jaw and her finger traced the newly healed line. “What is this?”
“It is nothing,” Drake replied. “A minor dispute now settled.”
His tone told her to make no more of it. She swallowed her concern and her hand glided down to his erection. Her fingers slowly caressed him. She wanted him to know the exquisite frustration she suffered when he toyed with her desire. His shaft was firm in her hand, the steely smoothness reminding her of the surface of the caves in the Ahaggar. She changed the tempo of her hand, her fingers halting at the base of his penis to squeeze and release.
His hips bucked and Amina’s womb became wet in anticipation of his entry. She wanted him inside her, taking control of her passion and sending her spiraling into bliss. Her patience suddenly at an end, she raised her hips and pushed downward.
The moment he was inside her, she didn’t move, her eyes locked on Drake’s strained face. After a few seconds of exquisite torture, she flashed him a crooked smile and inhaled deeply. The familiar fullness, a sense of absolute completion, shook her to her very core.
His rough hands gripped her hips and she closed her eyes. While her fear kept her from speaking her love for him, her body was determined to proclaim that her heart and soul belonged to him. She began to ride him, her movement slow and rhythmic. Amina gazed at Drake’s passion-contorted face, his green eyes studded with lust. She lowered her mouth to his and kissed him.
“I can never hate you, father to my son. You are my life as I am yours.”
She raised her hips until only the head of his penis was inside her. She squeezed and then slid down until he was again deep inside her. “But never my master.”
Her cadence abruptly changed to become a wild mating dance. With each stroke, she pushed him to the precipice, only to drag him back from a promised release. Her body refused to grant him mercy, even as it demanded his submission.
“Witch,” he hissed.
Amina’s sensual laughter filled their bedchamber. She drew in a slow breath, her intimate muscles squeezing his erection. She held him inside her, savoring the fullness, the feel of his life’s blood pulsating against her flesh, before she murmured, “I’m no witch. I am the dragon’s mate.”
11
Sunlight pranced across the wood floor of the sitting room with the excitement of an Arabian war horse. From the comfort of the room’s divan, Amina watched the flickering pattern. Her unwieldy body basked in the sun’s affection. It was a rare day when no fire was needed to heat the room and she was grateful for the reprieve from the usual cold.
Her son’s foot pushed against the left wall of her belly and she shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. “You will pay for this when you return, Michael Drake.”
Her son’s tiny heel continued to drum against the walls of her belly, his agitated motion giving her a slight headache. “Quiet, little one. The accursed man who fathered you fled to Plymouth like a witless coward when he should be here to calm you.”
Amina tenderly stroked her stomach, the sensation as soothing to her as it was to her child. “Another two months and you will join the Tamahaq in this world. Until then, rest and grow strong.”
How is my nephew?
“Like his father and the Tamahaq, his aunt,” Amina muttered irritably. “Headstrong.”
Asiya’s laughter ruffled Amina’s mind. Despite her irritation, Amina couldn’t stop her own laugh. “More his father than the Tamahaq, given the constant battles my son wages against me. When will I see you, Siya?”
She felt Asiya’s deep sigh. Since Christopher Willoughby had taken Asiya to wife, he’d proven just as obstinate and controlling as his cousin Drake. Especially the moment Willoughby learned Siya carried his child.
I am forced to remain in my true form.
“You’ve not shifted once?” Amina couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice. For Siya not to shift was like the Sahara without sand. “You’ve accepted this?”
Raphael agreed with my mate and angelically bound my hands. At least Willoughby says that we can travel to London for my nephew’s birth.
Horse and carriage?
Asiya’s sigh was so pitiful Amina felt it deep in her bones. She reached out to her sister in sympathy. Asiya accepted the heartfelt love. Horse and carriage will take days, even weeks. Englishmen.
Amina rubbed her belly. “I’m just pleased you’ll be with me when my son enters this world. I have no idea when his father will return. If he even intends to return for his son’s birth.”
Mina.
Amina sighed. “I don’t know what is wrong with me, Siya. I’ve not slept well or much since Drake left. Our son is restless in my belly, as if he is in a hurry to be born. Something is troubling him.”
Are you troubled?
She hesitated.
Mina?
“I dreamt of our father last night. That he is an undead and is coming for me and my son. I know it can’t be true. I was there when he lost his head. I . . . something is coming and soon.”
What happened, Mina? In the dream.
She shivered, her soul contracting at Siya’s question. Her twin knew nothing of the circumstances of their mother’s death. Memories of the horror were buried deep and she was determined Asiya would never see them. To speak of her dream threatened to open a gate and Amina couldn’t do that. She had made a vow to her mother.
Unaware her thoughts were leaching past her shields, she didn’t notice Asiya’s stealthy probe until she felt her sister’s pain rip through her. Amina tried to close her mind to Asiya. When that failed, she cried, “Siya, no.”
Her sister’s stunned disbelief tore at the last safeguard and Amina’s memories were wrenched opened and dissected. Like a disembodied spirit, Amina’s awareness trailed Asiya as she pored over each moment of their mother’s death. Asiya’s rapid heartbeat, soft gasps of horror, and her ragged breathing pierced her twin’s soul.
“Siya. Speak to me.”
You’ve carried this burden all these years? Held such horrible images in your memory? Why didn’t you let me share the pain, the grief?
Tears burned Amina’s eyes. “And the hatred I had, still
have, for our father? I betrayed our mother. It was my burden to bear the guilt for her death.”
Did you believe you were powerful enough to stop him and Abdiel? You were a child and not yet a warrior. A blast of fury sliced through Amina’s mind. You had no right to keep this from me, Amina. Saria was my mother as well. What did you do that day? Deepen my sleep?
Amina nodded. “Our mother tried to stop me, to send me away but I couldn’t let her die alone. She made me swear to never let you see how she died. I couldn’t break an oath to the Tamahaq.”
Cold silence filled Amina’s consciousness and she shivered. “Siya?”
I am angry, sister. Angry with you for keeping this from me, angry with the Tamahaq for making you swear such a vow, angry with our father for his weakness, for taking our mother’s life and tossing us aside like garbage. Most of all, I am angry with myself for not asking.
“Siya, please don’t.”
Take care of my nephew, Tamahaq. We will talk tomorrow.
Amina reeled as her sister abruptly departed. Siya.
When nothing but silence greeted her repeated calls, she flung herself on the divan. Her sobs smothered by her pillow, she gave her long-repressed tears their freedom and wept for her mother, for her sister, and most of all for herself.
Dragon, I need you.
* * *
Amina woke drowsily, puzzled by a scratching sensation against her awareness. She immediately strengthened her mental barriers and glanced around. The midday sun greeted her, making the intrusive presence, which felt demonic, all the more troubling.
With the birth of their son imminent, Drake had been especially keen on the safeguards since his voyaging kept him from the house for weeks at a time, and demonic visitations had increased. Demons most often came with the dawn when Drake was away. It was a deliberate annoyance to awaken her from sleep.
Fully awake, she spied a dark thread slithering parallel to a safeguard woven around the window. She rose from the divan to go stand before the paned glass. Ribbons of light played along the wood sill, seeming to leap over the pockets of darkness pushing against the casement. Raphael’s guards pulsed in response to the demonic thread. The look of the thread troubled her, its behavior and substance different from what usually came to her door or windows.
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