Immortal Angel

by Lynsay Sands

  “Eat up,” he said as he settled in the chair between Lucian and Ildaria. Paws on his leg drew his attention down to H.D. then, and he scowled firmly. “We are eating. In your basket.”

  H.D. hesitated, but then dropped back to all fours and moved morosely out into the living room to find his basket. Grunting with satisfaction, G.G. turned to his food. As he expected, the conversation died then as the three of them concentrated on eating.

  Twelve

  “That was good,” Lucian said as he pushed his plate away. “Thank you.”

  G.G. smiled faintly, impressed that the man had remembered the “thank you” without prompting.

  Standing up, Lucian glanced at Ildaria and announced, “I will return to the Enforcer house and inform the two men you injured that you have refused the invitation to return to the Dominican, Angelina. Then I will call Juan and try to persuade him to leave you alone.”

  Ildaria nodded, but looked dubious. She obviously didn’t think a phone call was going to do it. Even one from Lucian.

  G.G. opened his mouth, closed it, and then sat hesitating briefly. He knew his father had wanted to talk to Lucian himself, but finally he said, “My parents are on the way here. They are bringing the head of the UK Council with them. They want to end the situation once and for all, and want to work with you to do it.”

  Lucian nodded, not looking the least surprised. G.G. supposed he’d already read that from his mind and just hadn’t commented on it. Until now. “That is good. But I will still call. It might give me an idea of what Juan might try next now that his men have failed to convince her to return with them.”

  He left then. Without saying goodbye. The man just walked out of Ildaria’s apartment, leaving them staring after him. Definitely not a people person, G.G. thought with amusement and then glanced at Ildaria. She had that sharp look about her again, the hunted, preparing and always watching for trouble. It had been there since she’d woken up. But now it was multiplied by ten. Her jaw was so tense he was surprised it wasn’t snapping under the pressure. He couldn’t imagine living like that for a day, let alone two hundred years.

  There was only one thing likely to distract her from these worries and fears that had hounded her for so long, and she would be helpless against it according to all the lore and tales he’d heard. At least, that was the excuse he gave himself for finally instigating the life mate sex.

  Not sure what to expect, G.G. reached out and ran one finger, just one, lightly down her arm. It was only her arm. But bloody hell, it was all that was needed.

  Ildaria’s mouth slipped open on a small gasp, a visible shiver ran through her body and seemed to course into his as a shaft of pleasure zinged through him, and then her head swung around, her eyes targeting him like a heat-seeking missile.

  G.G. stared into the growing gold among the brown of her eyes, and then touched her again, this time allowing his finger to coast along the top of her bustier, riding the curve of her breast before dipping to the spot between them. He’d intended to continue on over the second breast, but never got that far. This time it was a shudder they shared rather than a shiver as they both experienced the touch, and then they were kissing.

  In their shared dreams their kisses had usually started out slow, a testing and tasting before it deepened into passion. This kiss was an explosion between them, mouths meshing and mashing, tongues searching, hands reaching, bodies straining as wave after wave of mounting passion thundered through them both. It was out of control, scary as hell and fucking sublime, G.G. thought a little dazedly as he dragged Ildaria off her chair and into his lap.

  Shared dreams were a limp biscuit next to this gastronomical feast. Every time and everywhere their bodies met or touched, G.G. felt it to his core. Her pleasure was his, and his was hers and then his again. It was bouncing between them like a tennis ball on a court, beating at his mind, directing his actions, urging him on. He wanted her naked, but with the thundering pleasure pounding at his brain, stunning him, he couldn’t seem to manage the task, at least not quickly enough to satisfy the need hammering at him.

  In the end, rather than remove her bustier, G.G. ended up just folding the cups down, freeing her breasts to his greedy attention. And dear God, he felt every lick, nip, and suckle at her nipples as if she were doing it to him, and it drove him wild, made him suck harder, pulling almost her entire breast into his mouth.

  Meanwhile, his hands had moved on to her leather pants, searching for the expected zipper and opening in the front but finding none. Frustrated by his inability to figure out how they undid, he moaned around her breast, and then groaned at the sensation that sent through both of them. Bloody hell, it was madness.

  It didn’t help that Ildaria was touching him too, her hands roaming what she could reach of his body and ratcheting up the sensation to even higher heights. When her hand found and squeezed the bulge in his jeans, G.G. froze under the sizzling onslaught of sensation that shot through him. When it then bounced around inside him, like a pinball, making his nerve ends all reverberate to the point that the pleasure was almost painful, he just lost it. His mouth never leaving her breast, he stood, easing her to stand as well. G.G. then gripped the back waistband of her pants in one hand, and the front in the other, and pulled. He hummed with triumph around her breast when he heard the satisfying ripping sound of success as he tore the seams wide open.

  G.G. was so far gone that he didn’t even notice at first that Ildaria was helping to tear the leather away. When he did, he merely grunted and worked harder to unwrap her from the material keeping her skin from him. In the end, she had to finish the job. The pants disappeared into her high boots, and she had to yank the cloth out and rip it away herself. Leaving her to it, G.G. turned his hands to his jeans. His zipper and button were still in the front, yet the task of undoing them was harder than it should have been. His hands were shaking and uncoordinated, and he thought the delay was going to kill him, but he finally got the job done.

  The minute he finished unzipping, Ildaria’s hands were there, pushing his aside and reaching in to find him. G.G. finally let her breast slip from his mouth and straightened abruptly, his breath hissing between his teeth as her fingers touched him, and then he looked at her and could have wept. She hadn’t just removed the shredded pants, the bustier was now gone too. She stood before him with only her long hair and high-heeled boots for covering, and the sight was enough to make a grown man weep.

  Grasping her by the waist, he lifted her to sit on the island, stepped between her open legs and buried his face briefly between her breasts, nuzzling the skin there as his hands ran over her exposed flesh. They slid from her waist, down her hips and then her outer legs, before riding back up those same curves and farther to claim her breasts.

  She was smooth as silk and warm to the touch, her skin as hot as if she’d been lying out in the sun. He wanted that heat wrapped around him like a blanket. Now. But his mind was telling him that a good lover gave his woman foreplay and Ildaria deserved a good lover. This was their first time, at least in real life. That made him hesitate.

  G.G. stood frozen, his whole body trembling with his need, his hands clutching her now as he struggled desperately against the urge to sink himself into her. He wanted to please her, knew he should. But the seeming hours of foreplay from the shared dreams was an impossibility when faced with this onslaught of sensation and overwhelming need.

  Ildaria suddenly grasped his face with both hands and lifted his head. Eyes on fire with glowing gold, she gasped, “I need you inside me,” and G.G. lost the battle with himself. Claiming her mouth with his, he took himself in hand, and they both sucked in a breath as he touched his own sensitive skin, then he stroked her once with the tip of his erection, found her entrance and released himself to grasp her hips as he thrust in.

  G.G. felt her pain mix with their pleasure, and froze briefly, but when she clutched his behind and dug her nails in in demand, he began to move. It was nothing like the shared dreams. Tha
t had been pedestrian mortal sex, feeling only his own pleasure. Now he was experiencing it all, his, hers, theirs, waves of it pounding at his body and mind as that first burst of pain faded away. Neither of them could take it long. There would be no holding off on taking his own pleasure until she found hers. That was impossible.

  G.G. didn’t count the strokes, but it couldn’t have been more than a handful before his release hit. It was a freight train off the rails, smashing through barriers, crushing brain cells, and blocking out the light. He thought he heard Ildaria cry out with him, her higher voice a counterpoint to his, and then he was falling into the darkness dropping over him.

  Ildaria woke up lying on top of G.G. on the kitchen floor. Her mind was slow to understand why she was there, and then her memories flew back to her. They’d had sex. Right. And her first time . . . at least in real life. Which was something of a surprise. She’d been told she was molested as a child and had assumed that had meant . . . Well, apparently it hadn’t included intercourse.

  Ildaria let those thoughts go in favor of recalling what had just happened. While this might have been her first real sex, she’d had lots of sex in their shared dreams. But it had not prepared her for the reality of life mate sex. That was another matter altogether. There had been no sweet sighs, no building need. It had been brutal, and explosive and exciting as hell.

  Just recalling it was making her nipples hard and causing a warm heat between her legs . . . where she and G.G. were still connected, she realized when he hardened inside her in response to what she was experiencing. The man wasn’t even conscious, but they were still connected both physically and mentally. The return of excitement to her was translating to his body. She marveled over that as he expanded inside her, filling her and bringing on more excitement.

  G.G. groaned and she lifted her head to watch his eyes flutter open. He appeared as confused by their position at first as she had been, and a confused G.G. was an adorable one, she thought with a faint smile, her gaze traveling over his face and hair. His Mohawk hadn’t survived their activity. It had fallen and now lay slightly to the side, covering part of the shaved section on one side of his head so that it looked like he had hair there. He would look good with hair, she decided. Although, she liked him with it shaved and just the Mohawk too. But he could never hide with the green Mohawk. It made him easily spotted and recognized in any crowd. Ildaria’s life had always been about hiding. At least, it had been since she was fourteen, and if things did not change, she would have to hide again. Which meant that if G.G. wished to join her, he would have to lose the Mohawk.

  That thought troubled her. Ildaria didn’t want him to have to change to be with her. She didn’t want him to have to hide either. He had family and friends and both Night Clubs . . . She couldn’t ask him to give all that up for her. This was none of his fault.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Ildaria gave a start of surprise at G.G.’s question as she was drawn back to the present. She opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it again. She didn’t want to talk about her fears for the future. She didn’t even want to think about it.

  “Angel,” he said quietly. “We’re life mates. Partners. Your burdens and worries are mine too now, and mine are yours. Tell me what is troubling you.”

  Much to Ildaria’s amazement, she felt tears sting her eyes and threaten to fall. She had been on her own for so long, with no one to care let alone help or share . . .

  “Please,” he entreated gently.

  That was her undoing. The words came out like champagne from an uncorked bottle, flowing so quickly she didn’t even realize she’d reverted to Spanish in her upset until G.G. interrupted gently with, “English, please, love. I promise I will learn Spanish eventually, but right now I haven’t got a clue what you’re telling me and I think it’s something I need to know.”

  He called me love, Ildaria thought, her mind a little dazed. They were life mates, had been having shared sex dreams for three weeks, and dating for one. She knew love would come. It always did between life mates, but she was sure it couldn’t come this quickly. He was just using the word as an endearment. She was sure he didn’t mean he loved her. But she wished he did. She was already half in love with him, if not wholly. G.G. was the calm in the storm that was her life. He was steady as a rock, compassionate and yet strong. He cared, and not just about her. He cared for his employees and customers too. He listened to all of them patiently and with concern. She’d witnessed that several times the past three weeks. His employees took their problems to him, but so did the customers, all of them knowing he would listen and offer sage advice. It had made her proud each time she’d witnessed it. He was a good man.

  He was also a good boyfriend. He was sweet and considerate with her, and while he was the only lover she’d ever had, Ildaria was quite sure she couldn’t have asked for a better one. In the shared dreams he had been tender, giving and passionate, always ensuring she found her pleasure first.

  Of course, life mate sex had been a little different. There he had been demanding and almost rough, but then so had she. As life mates it was impossible not to be. They became rutting animals, fighting together toward the blessed release awaiting them. In comparison to the shared dreams, life mate sex was also incredibly fast; a hurricane sweeping the surface of their minds, as opposed to the building waves of shared sex creeping up the shore.

  “Angel?” G.G. said, drawing her back to him in the here and now. “What were you worrying about?”

  “If Lucian and your father cannot make Juan leave me alone, I will have to run and hide again,” she said finally.

  “If that happens, we will run and hide,” he said firmly.

  “But you would have to give up your family and the Night Clubs, and you would have to shave off the Mohawk and grow normal hair so that you did not stand out,” she pointed out miserably. “I could not ask that of you, G.G. I could not subject you to the kind of life I have had to live for so long. It isn’t right. I—” Her words broke off in surprise when he suddenly clasped her face in his hands.

  “We are life mates now, Ildaria,” G.G. said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “Your problems are mine and mine are yours. If you have to run, I will run with you. Wherever you go, I will follow, and I’d leave everything behind to do it. Do you understand?”

  Ildaria stared at him for a long moment as his words ran around and around her head and then melted and dropped down into her heart. They made her feel . . . cared for. She was no longer alone. She felt loved, a feeling she hadn’t enjoyed for a very long time.

  “Do you understand?” G.G. asked again when she was silent for so long. “You are mine. Wherever you go, I go.”

  “Si, wherever I go, you go,” she said finally, and then vowed, “And wherever you go, I go too.” Ildaria watched the solemnity in his face give way to a smile and then she shifted on him, pushing herself up to a sitting position. The movement made them both catch their breath as she unintentionally shifted on his shaft and squeezed it, sending a wave of pleasure through their bodies.

  “Damn,” G.G. growled, his hands reaching for her breasts and cupping them as if he couldn’t resist, even as he asked, “Are you all right, Angel?”

  Ildaria knew he was asking if she felt better about the possibility they might need to run, but between his hands caressing her breasts and his growing erection inside her, her body was feeling pretty damned good too and she moaned, “Si,” through the pleasure mounting inside her and covered his hands, urging him on. She then tilted her head back and closed her eyes, her hips shifting against him again, and then again, making them both groan. She’d never done this before, and had no idea of rhythm or technique, she just moved in the way that gave her the most pleasure, giving them both pleasure she knew as G.G. continued to grow inside her. God, he was so big . . . everywhere. At least, it seemed to her that he was as she stretched around him. Then G.G. shifted his hands to grasp her hips and began to help, leaving her to c
lasp her own breasts as she rode him.

  The pleasure overwhelmed them even more quickly this time. It seemed to Ildaria that she was just getting the hang of what she was doing when a bomb went off inside her head. She didn’t even have time to cry out this time before she was sucked under the darkness that dropped over her mind. Although she thought she might have whimpered as she collapsed into it.

  It was H.D.’s tiny little tongue licking her cheek that woke Ildaria up. Nose wrinkling at the wet kisses, she blinked her eyes open and stared into his furry chest, slowly becoming aware that she was lying on something lumpy. Lifting her head, she turned to look down and saw that she was lying on G.G.’s hairy chest.

  Ildaria had just recalled how she’d got there when H.D. started in licking again. This time he went for her ear, and she grimaced and then groaned, “Stop, H.D.,” as she turned her head back and let it rest on G.G.’s chest again. She simply didn’t have the energy to move yet. H.D. would have to give her a moment, she thought and then glimpsed movement beyond the dog, and tilted her head on G.G.’s chest to see what was behind him. She blinked when she spotted part of a man’s very large, black, dress shoe.

  Blinking, she lifted her gaze to the dark gray dress pants above it, and then further to the white shirt and suit jacket, before ending on the handsome face of a stranger with dark hair.

  Ildaria had never seen the man before, and had certainly not invited him in. Since G.G. was lying unconscious under her, she knew he hadn’t either. Yet the man had somehow got past her guards and was standing there in her apartment, staring down at her where she lay naked on top of G.G.

  Embarrassingly enough it took a moment for all of that to coalesce in Ildaria’s mind in a way that made sense. Once it did, the word that kept repeating through her mind was naked. NAKED. NAKED!