A laugh ripped free before he could stop it, the sharp, loud sound echoing off the cove’s high walls. He kissed the top of her head. “Can’t leave my baineann-to-be unsatisfied, now can I?”
He snatched the towel and handed it to her, then angled his arm so she could better see. “It’s not deep enough for serious damage. Easy enough to heal.” Running the flat of his hand along the wound, he worked from his elbow to his wrist, mending the flesh and muscle underneath.
Trinity gently swiped the pink, barely-healed trail. “You fixed it.” She wiped again, this time a little more boldly, and inspected his work. Turning his arm over, she shoved the sleeve of his drast up as far as it would go. “There’s no mark though. Isn’t that how it works?”
Damn. So much for subtle transitions. “I think that’s better explained up in the lodge, preferably with you naked on my bed where I can find all kinds of ways to distract you.”
“Are we done with knives?”
“Absolutely.”
“Will the rest of it hurt?”
Ah, histus. How to get around this one without a complete lie or blowing the whole point of the ritual? “I only know what other mated women have told me. You’ll definitely feel, but they say it’s not painful.”
Okay, so he left out how he’d be in enough pain for both of them. Technically, that made it more textbook male avoidance than a lie.
Trinity’s gaze slid over his shoulder to the lodge nestled in the black rock wall, then shifted to the cushions where they’d started their night. “What’s wrong with staying out here?”
Her husky question spun up an instantaneous visual. Trinity stretched out on the cushions, moonlight and the fire’s glow on her creamy skin, knees up and wide as he tunneled deep. His cock shot from semi to concrete in less time than his Porsche could hit sixty.
“I thought you might be more comfortable someplace private.” Charcoal and dove gray silk pillows waited, almost daring him to take her up on her suggestion. “I need you relaxed, Trinity. Not worried about your surroundings. If this is what you want, I’ll give it to you and enjoy the hell out of every minute, but I want you comfortable. No inhibitions.”
She bit her lower lip. “Would anyone see us?” she near-whispered, shy and curious all at once.
“My senses are highly accurate, capable of sensing other Myrens at a high distance when I’m focused, but something tells me I’ll be distracted.” He turned her to fully face the cushions and wrapped his arms around her waist. Nuzzling the sweet spot behind her ear, he pressed his aching erection against her perfect ass. “Isn’t that the thrill of it? Knowing nothing is for certain?”
Her breaths deepened and her eyelids grew heavy. “I want this.” So much passion in her voice, raspy and rumbling with desire. With such innocent sensuality, he’d drive a bargain with the diabhal himself to get her anything she wanted.
He spanned her waist with his hands, teasing slowly up her torso until his thumbs skimmed below her breasts. “Tell me why. Tell me how you imagine it. What you want.”
A tiny tremor rattled through her. “It’s the wildness of it. The wind. The water. The fire. Becoming yours in the middle of everything you hold sacred.”
Becoming yours.
He wouldn’t rush this. Couldn’t rush this, but his hands fairly shook with the need to rip her dress free and sheath himself in her heat. “My little hedonist.” He gave into a fraction of his need and cupped her breasts through the fabric, worrying her tight nipples with his thumbs. “Then I’ll claim you under the stars and make you scream your release loud enough to reach the castle.”
Eyes closed and lips parted, Trinity moaned and arched into his touch, her head falling back onto his shoulder.
He kissed the side of her neck, slow teasing sweeps of his lips along her skin. “Tell me you’re ready.” He nipped her earlobe and followed it with a soothing lick. “Tell me you’ll give me everything I ask.”
“Everything.” Her eyes opened to meet his. “I’m not afraid. Whatever it is, whatever you have to do, I know you’ll keep me safe.”
Heavy words, laden with responsibility.
I suggest you use the resources at your disposal.
Damn right he would. And even those that weren’t his to use if it kept her happy. Even if it meant prying his eager hands off her body to heighten her pleasure. He stepped away and checked the fire. Plenty to keep them warm for at least another hour, and more wood stacked neatly beside it.
Circling away, he strolled toward the cushion with the high mound of pillows and pulled off his drast.
Trinity followed.
Ramsay stopped and shook his head, toeing off one boot. “Oh, no you don’t. You stay right there. I want to make sure I’m ready to watch my little exhibitionist in action.” He tossed the second boot to join its mate, freed the fastenings on his leather pants, and shrugged them past his hips. His cock practically sang at the freedom, one barrier eradicated with only one more between it and the slick heat between Trinity’s legs. He stretched out on the cushion and reclined into the pillows, legs bent and wide.
Her gaze slid to his blatant erection.
He fisted himself at the root and one of her hands fluttered to the sweet roundness above her mound. “Now it’s your turn.” He stroked his length. Once. Twice. Teased her while he pacified the throbbing need in his dick. “Lose the dress.”
She clenched the hand at her waist.
Ramsay guided a gentle breeze against her shoulders and face.
Trinity closed her eyes and let her head fall back, savoring the salt-tinged caress.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He swirled the air around her, tousling her hair and brushing against every inch of exposed skin. “Imagine how it would feel without the dress. Just you. The wind. The fire at your back. My eyes on you.” He released the stream to its normal pattern and she lifted her head. “You wanted this. Lose the dress and come claim my mark.”
Exposing herself might have come with second thoughts, but the mention of his mark shook her into action. She pulled off her sandals. Straightening, she fumbled with the sparkling broach at her shoulder, first with one hand, then with both. The latch sprang free and tumbled from her fingers.
Ramsay caught it with a thought before it made contact with the rock floor and guided it to join his dagger.
Trinity clutched the gown at her breast, held his stare for three eager heartbeats, and let go. The fabric slithered to the ground, coiling around her sumptuous curves along the way.
The Great One be praised, she was perfect. A damned sexual nymph. Rounded in all the right places, breasts firm and peaked by rock hard nipples he couldn’t wait to get in his mouth.
A fresh gust of wind swept in, this one guided only by nature’s hand.
Trinity gasped against the sensation, her hair wild in the breeze and eyes wide with wonder and desire. “Ramsay.”
“I’m right here, Sunshine.” He added a few extra streams along the back of her thighs, teasing between her legs and up around her torso. “Waiting on you.”
She crept toward him, each step tentative. As though her footfalls on the stone reverberated through her body. “Where do you want me?”
Here. In his lodge. At the castle, and every surface or location in between. God, the things he wanted to do to her. To do with her. At this rate, he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to resurface in reality.
“Right here.” He held out his hand. “Straddle me.”
Hesitant, she scanned his body like she couldn’t quite figure out how to navigate the situation or where to land.
A chuckle slipped free before he could check it. He snatched her hand and tugged her forward. “Feet on either side of my hips.”
She did as he asked and kneeled, knees spread wide so her slick sex sat low on his belly.
His cock nestled against her ass and he nearly came on contact. “Fuck, you feel good.” He gripped her hips and flexed his own on reflex.
The movement knocked he
r off balance, and she caught herself with hands at his shoulders, those perfect tits of hers jiggling deliciously close to his mouth.
Damn, but he needed to be inside her. Now. To feel her heat fisting him. To thrust his energy into her heart and claim her as his mate.
“Wait.”
The voice tingled more than spoke in the back of his head. Not his own, but feminine and vaguely familiar. Clipped and focused.
Trinity stared down at him, her mouth parted and close enough her jagged breaths fanned his face. She undulated against him. “Touch me. Please.”
No. No waiting. He’d done that his whole damned life. Trinity was here. Eager for his touch. His cock. His mark.
He cupped her breasts, lifting the heavy globes and flicking his thumbs across her nipples. “Give me your lips.”
She fit her mouth to his with a broken groan and arched into his palms. Her tongue tangled with his, her taste better than any sweet treat from Orla’s kitchen and tinged with cinnamon.
Instinctively, he pressed his hand above her heart. Energy built inside his chest, something wild and primal bursting from a part of him he hadn’t known existed. It tunneled down his arm. Close. So close.
“Wait.”
The voice rang louder. More stern. Not Trinity, but a voice he was sure he’d heard before.
The energy pooled in his palm, eager for release. Ready to claim.
Trinity moaned against his mouth and wiggled her soft ass against his aching erection. Her lips and tongue dueled with his and her hands fisted in his hair. “Please.”
His shaft throbbed against her wind-cooled skin. It was torture. Sweet, mind-bending torture. A push and pull between physical need and instinct. He wanted—needed—the link, but the voice kept echoing in his head.
I suggest you use the resources at your disposal.
He snapped his head back.
Trinity gasped, her kiss-swollen lips parted in surprise. “What?”
Mayhap now that our Trinity has opened his heart, he’ll be more receptive to the voice of his Spiritu.
Vyree. The Black King had called her Vyree.
This mating is the first of its kind. One that may not be easily formed.
“Ramsay, what’s wrong?”
He stroked the smooth flesh between her breasts. Beneath his skin, his energy swirled and fought for release. Was this it? What the king was warning him about?
Partially levitating them both, he spun them so fast Trinity let out a startled cry. He splayed her flat against the cushion, kneeling between her spread thighs. “It’s different.” The wind whipped around them in what felt like silent agreement, chilling his sweat-slick skin and slashing his hair across his face.
She gripped his wrists, stilling his hands as he stroked the tops of her legs. “What’s different?”
“You. Us.” He leaned over her, propping himself up with one arm and lowering himself to one breast. He licked the tip and locked his eyes with hers. “Close your eyes. Feel and let go.” Another lick, circling the dusty pink areola. “I’ve got you.”
He latched onto the hard bud and suckled deep.
Trinity bowed beneath him, her hands threading in his hair for a brutal, demanding grip.
“Tell me.” Two simple words he thought into the nothingness, praying for the Black King’s promised guidance.
Years of stubborn isolation shattered. Light swept in and surrounded him, peace and certainty rushing in behind it. The voice came again. More of a relieved sigh at first, then words. Faint. Barely discernible. “Look with your spirit.”
Energy snapped above him, indignant blue arcs clashing against the dark and the fire’s orange glow as his anger surged. What the hell good was a Spiritu if they talked in riddles?
“Look with your spirit.” More tangible this time. Almost stubborn in its tone. “Find what protects her heart and merge your energy with hers.”
Trailing slow, indulgent kisses along the way, he shifted to her other breast and teased the top of her mound with his knuckles. He could do this. If it meant having Trinity, he could do anything. Face anything.
“Find what protects her heart,” the almost spunky woman repeated.
Cautiously, he sent his spirit forward, circling her heart.
Blinding gold flashed against his mind’s eye, so radiant it rippled through him in a shock wave. Like the night he’d tried to read her memories, only more bearable. But then, he hadn’t made contact this time either.
“Merge your energy with hers.”
Shit. Just looking at the awesome barrier nearly knocked him silly. How in histus was he supposed to merge his own with hers?
“You suck it up and grab on tight. Better brace though. It’s gonna hurt. Bad. But she’s worth it, right?”
“Ramsay?”
Still focused on the golden shield and the edgy voice in his head, he barely registered Trinity’s question. Distant. Concerned.
His hand was at her heart, the steady rhythm beneath his palm luring him in. Comforting despite the pain that waited. He hoped he didn’t screw this up. For all he knew, he was about to grab onto a Spiritu equivalent of a live wire.
He sent his energy into her chest, surrounding the pulsating gold light with his silver essence. Only a thin, neutral layer ran between them. “Put your hand on my heart.” He eked the words past his strained throat. The arm he used to hold himself above her shook with fatigue and his pulse reverberated along his arms and legs.
Trinity’s fingers splayed above his heart. Firm. Not the least bit hesitant. “It’s okay.” Her throaty voice barely carried over the wind. “I’m ready. I trust you.”
Man, this woman undid him. How could she? He didn’t even know what the hell he was doing. He lowered himself against her, needing the skin-to-skin contact and the press of her mouth. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “Never doubt it.”
Before she could answer, he breached the thin layer between the barrier and his energy.
* * *
Quiet. Eerie, golden quiet.
Quick as a blink, reality had flashed to nothing, leaving her alone with nothing but an odd sparkling void. Not unlike her sometimes bizarre dreams, though without the sound. No ocean waves or wind. No crackling fire. Just the same muted sensation that came from a good set of earplugs.
No, wait…
A long agonized wail registered, muffled as though it came from a great distance.
She strained her mental vision against the shimmering wall. There was something on the other side of the veil. Something important.
Think, Trinity. Focus.
This couldn’t be a dream. She’d been awake. With Ramsay and ready to become his mate.
The cry sounded again. Ragged and closer.
Ramsay.
Grated shouts billowed up like something from the bowels of a torturer’s dungeon. But where was he? Why couldn’t she see him?
Heat radiated along her front and a steady weight pressed against her heart.
The image of him above her, his long, dark hair spilling over his shoulders as he whispered against her lips. I love you. Never doubt it.
It wasn’t a dream. He was still here. Hurting.
And she was failing him.
She pushed against the golden fog, a mental equivalent of swimming toward the water’s surface from the deepest ocean. Over and over again she reached with her mind, wading through the seemingly impenetrable gate.
This couldn’t happen. She’d told him she trusted him. Told him she believed in him. How could she let this happen?
“Let me in.” Faint. Barely there, but unmistakably Ramsay. A simple thought echoing through her head.
She needed to calm down. To center herself and think.
Destiny is what you make it. The last words her father had spoken the night she’d met Ramsay. Maybe that was the key. Her will was hers. Who she trusted. Who she took as her mate. Who she let behind the walls of her Spiritu self.
A picture formulated in he
r head. The barrier thinned from gold to the color of wheat, then to a buttery yellow. Streams of sparkling silver glinted in the distance, swirling at the furthest edge of what remained of the gold veil.
She reached for him with her thoughts and a shimmering gold stream shot forward. It spiraled through the tunnel she’d created in an almost playful dance. Like a water nymph set free from a land-bound prison.
The silver threads at the far side slithered closer, cautious, but purposeful. Such a beautiful color. Vibrant and powerful like his dagger. One of the strands wound around hers, the movement so beautifully sensual her heart quaked.
Tighter and tighter the strands blended.
A warm, peaceful burn sparked deep in her chest, a place so intimate she wasn’t even sure it was of her physical body. Something far more important. Spiritual.
The strands snapped together. A flash of perfectly woven gold and silver blasted through every corner of her mind, blinding her to everything. The strands, the barrier.
“Trinity.”
Big, warm hands cradled her face. Ramsay hovered above her, his eyes wide and tanned skin flushed from exertion. His hair clung to the sides of his face and neck, damp with sweat. Over his heart, angry welts sprawled in a huge starburst pattern. “You said it wouldn’t hurt.”
He smiled. A beautiful, genuine smile that ricocheted through every fiber of her being. God, she could swear she actually felt his happiness. A carefree rush of emotion. “I said you wouldn’t hurt.”
He guided her hand from his chest, laid a reverent kiss to her knuckles, and lifted her arm so she could better see it. “You’re mine.” He traced the proud horse reared back and ready for flight. “My baineann.” He fingered the detailed wings. “My Spiritu.”
Oh. My. God.
She sat up so quickly she nearly knocked heads with her new husband. “There’s color.” She glanced at Ramsay, now kneeling in front of her. “Lexi’s doesn’t look like this.”
Waking Eden (The Eden Series Book 3) Page 24
