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Arthur, Keri - Beneath a Rising Moon.txt

Page 9

by Beneath a Rising Moon (lit)


  softly in the kitchen, and a travel case waited near the

  door, along with a pair of shoes and a long black dress.

  “Neva?”

  He walked into the living room and found her on the

  sofa, fast asleep. He squatted beside her and gently brushed

  the dark gold strands of hair from her face. She stirred

  slightly, murmuring something he couldn’t quite catch.

  Her delicate features had a drawn look to them, and

  the smudges beneath her eyes were as dark as bruises.

  She’d obviously gotten as little sleep as he last night.

  He trailed his fingers down her cheek to the full lips

  he ached to kiss, then on, past the long line of her neck to

  the round fullness of her breasts. The cashmere sweater

  was soft under his fingertips, her nipples hard.

  He rose. His family’s costume dance didn’t start until

  midnight, so they didn’t have to leave just yet. He walked

  out of the living room and headed up the stairs.

  Her bedroom was like her—soft, feminine and golden.

  The bed was big, crowded with brightly colored cushions

  and cheerful bears. He swept them aside and pulled back

  the comforter and sheet. Then he headed back down the

  stairs.

  She hadn’t moved. He took a deep breath, then

  concentrated his kinetic energy and carefully lifted her

  from the sofa. Holding her several inches off the cushions,

  he gently pulled off her shoes, then her jeans and panties.

  The sweater he left. He had too many fantasies about

  caressing her in that sweater to take it off right now.

  She muttered something as the cold air caressed her

  skin and turned around, pulling at his kinetic hold. Pain

  tore at the edges of his mind, and a bead of sweat trickled

  to his chin. He’d lifted people before with telekinesis, people

  far heavier than she was. But each of those times he hadn’t

  wanted to keep his touch whisper soft. Gentleness wasn’t

  easy.

  He tucked his hands under her body, then released

  his kinetic hold and hugged her close. She snuggled into

  his chest, her skin so cool compared to his, then sighed

  softly. It was then he smelled the alcohol on her breath.

  Given how little she’d eaten this evening, it was

  probably that, more than anything, that had made her fall

  asleep. And would certainly explain why she hadn’t woken

  spitting fire when he’d stripped her.

  He carried her up the stairs and placed her in her bed.

  For a moment, he simply stood there, his gaze lingering

  hungrily on the fullness of her breasts under the cashmere

  sweater before moving on, past the flat plane of her stomach

  to the golden triangle of soft curls, remembering the way

  her long legs had wrapped around his waist as he thrust

  so very deep. He almost came just thinking about it.

  He quickly stripped and climbed in beside her. She

  wouldn’t be happy to find him there. This was her

  sanctuary, the one place no woman wanted to find a man

  unless he was invited.

  But he had no intention of leaving or letting her leave,

  until he’d finished what he’d started this afternoon in the

  diner.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her close

  and waited for her to wake.

  ***

  The dream was one of pleasure.

  Neva lay wrapped in the darkness, part of her covered,

  part of her exposed and so ready for invasion. And she

  was invaded. By hands. By tongue. By body. She writhed

  and moaned, her skin on fire, every muscle screaming for

  release. The stroking continued. Outside. Inside. It took

  her higher and higher, until the need was so strong she

  couldn’t even breathe. Then she came with such powerful

  force she screamed to the moon. It was a sound echoed by

  her dream lover.

  She woke.

  To discover it was no dream.

  To discover the gentle invasion had not yet stopped.

  “That was but a beginning,” Duncan whispered in her

  ear. His tongue gently explored her lobe, and she shuddered

  under the assault.

  She opened her eyes and realized she was home. In

  bed. Her bed.

  Anger surged. He had to no right to be here. “What the

  hell are you doing?”

  He shifted his weight off her, then moved his hand

  down her stomach and gently pressed past her damp curls.

  She shifted, trying to escape his touch, yet unable to deny

  the sweet pleasure of it.

  “What does it feel like I’m doing?” His voice was lazy,

  amused.

  Her gaze flew to his. His dark eyes were filled with

  enough heat to start a forest fire. And that was certainly

  the impact it had on her. “Seducing me in my own bed.”

  “That’s exactly right.”

  “You have no right.” She hesitated, eyes widening as

  his mouth drew close.

  “I have every right,” he murmured, breath warm across

  her lips. “And every intention.”

  His kiss was a honeyed affirmation of his words. A

  gentle possession she could not escape. Didn’t really want

  to escape. The moon was high, and given this afternoon’s

  and last night’s frustrations, she so very desperately needed

  his touch. Needed him. Though she would never have

  admitted as much.

  His mouth moved on, trailing fiery kisses down her

  neck to her breasts. She still wore her sweater, but he

  didn’t seem to care. His teeth encased one aching nipple,

  biting lightly. She squirmed, trying to deny pleasure as he

  sucked and nipped one aching nub, then the other. As the

  gentle assault continued, she gave in to the urge to touch

  him, and she ran her hands down the muscled plain of

  his stomach to stroke the still hard length of him. He

  shuddered, thrusting into her touch. An oddly primitive

  sense of power ran through her. Whatever else he might

  think or feel about her, he couldn’t deny his need for her

  right now.

  A small comfort that was better than nothing, she

  supposed.

  She continued to explore as he explored—by taste, by

  touch. Heat rose, shimmering between them, warming the

  night. Warming them.

  His touch pushed her into a place where only sensation

  existed. The air was hot and thick and almost impossible

  to breathe. Every inch of her quivered under the relentless

  assault of his fingers and tongue. Then the convulsions

  began, the power of them curling through her body like a

  tidal wave.

  It was a wave that became even more glorious as he

  thrust inside her again. She groaned and wrapped her

  legs around him, forcing him deeper still, until it felt as if

  the rigid heat of him was claiming every inch of her.

  Her climax hit, stealing her breath, stealing her sanity,

  sweeping her into a world that was sheer, unadulterated

  bliss. A heartbeat later he went rigid against her, the power

  of his release tearing a groan from his throat. He held her

  for one last thrust, then his lips sought
hers, his kiss a

  lingering taste of passion.

  In that one moment, all the fears that had plagued her

  the first time they’d made love returned in a rush. Because

  this time he hadn’t only let her glimpse the stars, he’d well

  and truly taken her past them.

  Worse still, there was something in the way he touched

  her that she’d never felt before, and it scared her. Because

  no matter how powerful the dance, it would never mean

  anything to a man like Duncan Sinclair. He was a lone

  wolf, a man who lived for momentary pleasure, who

  searched for nothing beyond it. He’d certainly proven time

  and again over the last twenty-four hours that he cared

  nothing for her.

  And the mere fact that she was even thinking

  something like that, after the abominable way he’d treated

  her, showed just how dangerous the next four days were

  going to be.

  He rolled off her onto his back, one arm flung across

  his forehead as he stared up at the ceiling. He might have

  been alone for all the notice he seemed to take of her. The

  night air caressed her rapidly cooling skin, but it had little

  to do with the shiver that ran down her spine.

  “You’d better be getting dressed,” he said. “We have to

  be back to the mansion by twelve.”

  His voice was flat, unemotional. She certainly wouldn’t

  have thought they’d shared a mind-blowing dance only

  moments before.

  “Right,” she said, keeping her voice as flat as his. “I’ll

  just go take a shower.”

  “Don’t.”

  She stared at him. He didn’t look at her, didn’t

  acknowledge her, just continued to gaze at the ceiling.

  And it was beginning to grate. “Why not?”

  “Because I want everyone to smell my scent on you. I

  want them to know you’re mine, and mine alone.”

  Relief slithered through her. At least he was keeping

  one promise. “I can’t see how having a shower will affect

  that.”

  “It’s the dance and the moon rides high. They must

  know I have claimed you tonight, or there will be

  challenges.”

  Her stomach began to churn. What in the hell type of

  dance was he taking her to? “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “What I said. Tonight is my pack’s get-

  together. Some bring mates. Others bring dancers to be

  shared. If you don’t have my scent on you, you’ll be

  considered the latter rather than the former.”

  The implications of that swirled through her and settled

  like a weight in her stomach. “So it’s an orgy?”

  He finally glanced at her. Amusement sparked briefly

  in his eyes before it was lost to the shutters. “The whole

  moon dance is an orgy.”

  She supposed it was—at least where the Sinclairs were

  concerned. “Can I at least clean up a little?”

  “If you hurry.” He hesitated, and a mirthless smile

  touched his full lips. “Wouldn’t want to miss any of the

  fun, now, would we?”

  Her stomach began to churn, and she wondered yet

  again just what she’d gotten herself into.

  Wondered how in hell she was going to get through

  the rest of this night, let alone the next four.

  Five

  Duncan stopped at the top of the stairs and let his

  gaze roam across the lust-filled darkness. This ballroom

  was far smaller than the main one, but no one here really

  cared. Tonight was a night for the main pack to come

  together and rejoice in the freedom of the moon. And if

  ever there was a time to discover discontent, it was tonight,

  when the heat of the moon and the whispering magic

  entwined through the music to make blood boil and

  tongues loosen.

  Neva edged closer to him. Her hand was tense in his,

  and he could smell her fear as clearly as he could taste

  the seductive aroma of her femininity.

  And while he could certainly understand her desire

  not to be here, right now he had no choice. Not only was it

  a perfect night to catch nearly the whole pack in the one

  place, it also provided yet another opportunity to push

  her that little bit farther.

  He spied his father and two of his brothers near the

  buffet table. He swept his gaze around the room again

  and saw René enjoying the delights of a statuesque blonde

  he vaguely recognized. He smiled grimly. His brother

  certainly wasn’t bothering to mourn the loss of a mate.

  But then, why would he? In the heated rush of the moon,

  she’d been just another face. Just another body to sate

  his lust on. René might have momentarily mourned her

  loss but, in the end, he didn’t truly care. There were plenty

  of willing replacements to be found here in the Sinclair

  mansion.

  A fact Duncan knew entirely too well. And one he was

  no longer satisfied with.

  Only trouble was, he wasn’t sure if there was anything

  else out there. Not for him, anyway.

  He led the way down the steps and into the crowd.

  The heavy beat of the music throbbed though his veins,

  and the air was heavy with the rich aroma of sex.

  He glanced at Neva. Though the mask covered half

  her face, he could see the glow of color in her cheeks. She

  kept her gaze firmly fixed ahead, but the smell of her

  arousal stung the air. She might be of the golden tribe,

  but she was still a wolf, and she could no more ignore the

  scents and sounds of those around her than he could.

  His gaze slipped from her face to her body. She looked

  absolutely stunning in the barely-there black dress, and

  every step she took revealed tantalizing flashes of warm,

  golden skin. Her hair was a river flowing down her back,

  swaying like golden silk with every movement, drawing

  the eye to the perfection of her rear. He wasn’t the only

  one who hungered for her—it was a feeling that followed

  them as they made their way through the crowded room,

  a sensation she would feel more acutely than he could.

  And while he knew his proprietary hold on her ensured

  no one would approach her, she didn’t. Left alone, the

  fear so evident in her pretty eyes would rise, and maybe,

  just maybe, she’d run to whoever had employed her to

  watch him.

  He reached the far wall and found space enough to

  press her back into the shadows.

  Heat climbed into her cheeks. “What now? You ravage

  me in front of your packmates to show what a big man

  you are?”

  If he’d had the time, most definitely. He ran his hand

  down the long line of her neck, noting the wild flutter of

  her pulse under his fingertips. It wasn’t fear, just as the

  widening of her pupils wasn’t fear. Underneath the

  strictness of her upbringing, there was a wild wolf

  desperate to be free. And if what they’d shared so far was

  any indication of what was to come, he certainly wouldn’t

  mind being her mate when that wildness finally asserted

  itself.

&
nbsp; He leaned close, letting his lips brush hers as he said,

  “Is that what you want me to do?”

  Her breath caught, then caressed his mouth with quick

  warmth. He let his hand drift down to her breasts and

  gently rubbed one firm nub through the silk of her dress.

  She shivered, her lips parting, her breathing rapid.

  He pressed himself closer, so that it seemed every inch

  of their bodies were molded together. He could feel her

  trembling, feel the heat radiating off her skin. The musky

  scent of her desire spun around him, the wild beat of her

  heart resonating through every fiber of his being.

  “Tell me what you want,” he murmured and brushed

  another kiss across her lips.

  “Food,” she all but gasped. “Not sex.”

  He grinned and pushed away. “Then food you shall

  have.”

  Surprise flitted through her eyes. Good—because the

  more he kept her off balance, the more likely it was that

  she’d make a mistake.

  “Wait for me here. I have to go talk to my father, then

  I’ll bring you back something to eat.”

  “Why can’t I come with you?”

  “Because I have pack business to discuss, and you’re

  not of my pack. Wait here.” He turned and walked away

  from her.

  Neva crossed her arms and watched his muscular back

  disappear into the crowd. The urge to run after him was

  fierce, but she fought it. As much as she didn’t want to be

  left alone in this place, it at least provided an opportunity

  to do some investigating. She swept her gaze across the

  room. There was a feel to the air she didn’t like, a feeling

  that went beyond wanting, beyond lust. Was almost angry.

  Not the entire room, just some sections of it, and it

  was a feeling she couldn’t pinpoint to one person or group.

  Not yet, anyway.

  The ballroom was smaller than the one she’d seen last

  night, but just as dark. There was no dance floor, just

  couples moving through the shadows—some talking, some

  making love, some doing both.

  Most of the women wore outlandish costumes, the men

  leather pants that left little to the imagination. Chaps and

  a whip seemed almost tame by comparison to some of the

  attire in the room, but she was damn glad she’d refused

  to wear them. There’d been enough hunger aimed her way

  as Duncan led her across the room. Chaps would have

  only increased that hum of interest tenfold.

 

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