by Thorne, Elle
Her heartbeat raced, the pulse visible in her neck, then she groaned.
This threw Theo over the edge of self-control.
Fuck, he’d wanted their first time to be slow, but he couldn’t. His lion wouldn’t be contained. His lion had to have her now!
She pushed closer to him, as if telling him that she knew the need and was equally driven, and completely unafraid.
He brought his head down and took a hard nipple in his mouth. Her hands, already tangled in his head, pushed him lower while he sucked on a dusky tip.
He lowered his other hand, slowly, over a soft belly, then touched the top of her slit, careful not to encounter her clit.
Not yet.
“Theo,” her low-spoken summons made his shaft jerk.
He let his finger slide along the slit, still careful not to touch her core of pleasure.
Heated moisture greeted his index finger as he lowered his hand, more and more. “So ready. For me.” His words were a growl, powered by his yearning.
“Yessss,” she hissed the word and leaned closer to him, her hips grinding her mound against his hand.
He thrust a finger in, unable to restrict the need to feel her heat surrounding him.
She gasped, took his finger in, her muscles tightening, her body pushing forward to take more.
He pulled it out, then pushed it in again, watching her face as desire crossed her features.
She writhed against him, her wetness dripping down his finger.
“I want to taste that sweetness.”
“I want you. God, Theo. Now.”
He studied her face to be sure there was no fear and found only her need for him there.
That’s all it took to completely veer him off one course and onto another
She put her hands flat on his chest, running them lower. His stomach tightened as he held his breath. Bringing her close, trapping her eager fingers between their bodies, he drove his tongue into her mouth.
Head thrown back, her mouth yielded to him. He grabbed her in a fireman’s carry and took her to the bed, his cock throbbing with every step as he drew closer to the mattress on the twin bed
God, please don’t let me destroy that thing.
He knew it would be vigorous. The way he wanted her, it was bound to be.
A second later, they were on the bed, her leg wrapped around his waist. He pulled her leg away and lowered his head, her sweetness near his face. Theo inhaled, letting the scent of her sit on his senses, tempting his mouth, his tongue, his mind, cock, and fingers, too. Every part of her tempted him.
Desire to be with her, to be in her, to be a part of her was pulling at him with a force that defied all others. He slipped a hand beneath her, his finger slipping into her wet sheath. She moved and squirmed. The movement served to have her pushing his digit in even deeper.
He lowered his head even closer, letting her feel the warmth of his breath before he blew gentle cooling air on her heated moistness.
Theo wanted to rush it, to bury his face between her legs, to allow his tongue to replace his finger. He stared at the dusky lips that beckoned him with a lustrous wetness. The desire to replace his finger grew.
He watched her face as he pulled the finger out. Disappointment replaced lust, then he ran his finger upward toward a clit already engorged with need. Theo rubbed it softly, watching her eyes dilate with hunger, her hips arched, a groan filling the cabin’s stillness.
His breath still hot on her sleek pussy, as he teased her little core.
Leandra’s breasts heaved with every breath. Taut nipples pushed up, growing harder and harder.
Her body was an untouched banquet. Lush and made for passion—with him. Only him. And no man before him.
Or after me.
He wanted no other, and he knew she felt the same.
He raised one hand to her mound and stroked the nearest nipple while making tight circles on her clit with his thumb.
He delivered rapid flicks on her clit while her hips rose and writhed.
Her sweet puckered folds were covered in moistness.
While his thumb took care of her clit, his middle finger slid closer toward her hot sheath, playing near the entrance. He twirled it, loving the sounds of her wetness merging with her light moans.
Theo lowered his head, giving it a tiny lick, then taking a long slow deliberate swipe at her folds, lapping her flavor in.
She panted, then released a long moan.
His cock strained, wanting her, pushing against the bed, seeking the warmth of her, though Theo denied himself the pleasure.
He’d wait.
In Theo’s mind, his lion bellowed frustration at the denial of an immediate mating.
Theo ate her sweetness with a reckless and uncontrolled appetite. He spread her lips further to get at the sleekness inside, sucking on her lips, pushing his tongue in and out.
He pressed his tongue deeper, burying his face in, relishing the taste, the scent, the texture.
Fuck. She was amazing.
He groaned with a desire that was being denied while she bucked against his mouth. Lips buried into her folds, he sucked her sensitive bud in, flicking it with his tongue. Delivering a volley of tongue flicks that left her a trembling, creamy muddle, her hands buried in his head, her nails digging in, drawing blood.
She arched her hips and rose, almost to a sitting position as she released, while he licked the creamy results of her passion.
His lion and Theo had taken all they could.
He let his lion take over as he thrust into her, reveling at her cry when he’d filled her and stretched her to accommodating him.
“God, I’m sorry baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He drew away.
She grabbed his hips and pulled him in closer, ramming him deep inside.
Theo drove in deep, and pulled back, then deep again, while she squirmed and clawed at his back, scoring his flesh with a searing pain that merged with the pleasure.
“Beautiful,” he groaned against her mouth. “Fucking amazing.” He slammed into her with a fervor that heralded a need he’d never before felt.
Leandra met his every drive with a hunger that matched his.
He pulled her in close for a kiss, while his other hand sought her clit, teasing circles on the swollen nub.
Her eyes flew open and her lips parted, preparing to scream. He locked onto her mouth and swallowed her scream in deep, as she clenched around him repeatedly in orgasm.
The sound of her passion, muffled by his mouth was his undoing.
Her body pushed him closer to the edge. He groaned, and with a grunt and an uncontrolled rush, he came undone, holding her close.
Her curves collapsed against him.
All mine.
* * *
“I’m leaving the country for a week. Promise not to replace me with any random shifters? Or serpents?” Theo gave her a smile.
“Never.”
And she meant it. She had the man she wanted. If only they could have each other fully without sneaking around, hiding from his boss and her coven.
Chapter Fifteen
Black Glade Bayou, Louisiana
Leandra shifted in her seat. Clothing and shoes instead of barefoot in her usual practically threadbare chemise. A formal meeting at the Black Glade Coven Hall, that was the occasion behind Leandra’s dressing up.
Her lips curved into a smile from the early morning’s visit from Theo. Two months. She’d seen Theo Ricoletti regularly every few days now of the last two months. His visits were the one thing she had to look forward to in her life. She couldn’t keep the pace of hiding him from others forever. Their relationship would be known quickly at this pace.
Michelina, the interim leader, rose to her feet. “Council needs to find a new leader. We’ve gone long enough without one.”
“We’ve managed fine so far. What’s the rush?” Leandra asked.
“Adelise put the matter on the agenda.”
“Of course she did.�
�� Leandra barely controlled the sneer that threatened to mar her features. She turned a tight smile toward Adelise and her sisters, all sitting at the table catty-corner to her own.
What a time to be sitting alone at a table. It really hit home, times like these, that her Mémé was gone. That Lucia wasn’t around. And as for Rochelle—Leandra couldn’t bring herself to call her mother, Rochelle had never sat at this table, to Leandra’s knowledge.
She tried to focus on what the other witches were discussing.
“Technically, the leadership position would belong to a Mathieu,” declared Councilmember Michelina. “But things have changed. Latrice chose to have a shifter’s child, making herself unable to be leader. Rochelle has spurned the coven. Lucia is the offspring of a shifter, so automatically not qualified to lead witches.” Michelina turned accusing eyes toward Leandra. “And you…” She shook her head, as if in disbelief.
Or maybe it’s disappointment, Leandra pondered.
Michelina’s eyes glowed in the dim room as she continued. “You have chosen to cavort with shifters. Specifically, a lion shifter. Or so word has it.”
The smirk on Adelise’s face told Leandra exactly who had told the council this information.
Mémé had always said that she’d wanted the leadership back in their family’s control. Leandra had wanted to make her grandmother’s dream come true—but was it really Mémé’s dream? She had given up that dream willingly herself, to have the child of Étienne.
Maybe it wasn’t Leandra’s responsibility. But at the same time, it galled her to think that Adelise’s family would be able to take control of the coven that her grandmother’s grandmother once led.
A commotion at the doorway drew all eyes in the room.
She turned her head to see what the fuss was.
Rochelle walked in.
Except this wasn’t the mother she remembered. The mother she hadn’t seen in more than a decade.
Rochelle was different.
The room released a collective gasp.
“Rochelle.” Michelina stood, her black gown majestic as it draped her body.
Leandra glanced between the woman who’d given her birth, and Michelina, who’d been responsible for some of Leandra’s early training.
Rochelle was resplendent in a crimson dress that was so dark it glowed like a glass of merlot in front of a candle. Her skin, always so pale, compared to Leandra’s, glowed a ghostly white.
Leandra didn’t need an explanation. She knew why the room gasped, and she knew why Rochelle’s skin was so fair. When Rochelle’s fevered black and crimson eyes rested on Leandra, the difference in her mother was apparent.
She’d been turned.
Rochelle Mathieu had become a vampire.
Her mother was now a vampire.
The enemy.
Rochelle’s gaze was more like a glare as she stared at the daughter she’d scorned and rejected. Then she turned her eerie stare and focused on the council. “Michelina.” A small scoff escaped from perfectly glossed lips. She shifted her weight slightly, from one foot to another, turning her attention to Adelise. “You think yours can take away what belongs to my family?”
“Since when am I your family?” The whispered words escaped Leandra’s lips before her brain could clamp her mouth shut. Leandra squeezed her hands into fists, pressed them into her thighs, pushing against her own flesh, wishing she were anywhere but here. Anywhere at all.
Rochelle swiveled toward Leandra slowly, with deliberate moves. One perfectly arched brow rose. Disdain crossed her features. She shook her head.
I see I still disappoint you. Leandra thanked the stars she managed to think it and not say it.
Could a vampire hurt her? She’d faced vampires before. She could kill a vampire.
But could I kill a vampire that’s also my mother?
Rochelle left the room. Behind her, the witches’ conversations were like a loud buzzing sound in Leandra’s mind. She couldn’t pick one conversation apart from another one.
So much buzzing going on.
A gavel pounding on wood brought the room to a silence.
“Enough theatrics and distractions. We have a purpose for today’s meeting, vampires aside. We’ve been hired to protect a shifter—one Alexandria Arceneaux.”
“Since when do shifters hire us to protect them?” Leandra asked.
“Since we can provide a service and they have something we want.”
“Pray tell what that is.” Leandra tried, but couldn’t remember ever seeing this Alexandria
“Territory. Without a fight. No battle. No bloodshed.”
Since when does a witch run from a confrontation.
Surely they could take this territory by force.
Michelina raised her hand, as if anticipating Leandra’s objections. “A majority vote has been taken. The coven is in agreement. All that’s left to decide is who is going to do the deed."
“The deed?” Leandra asked.
“The lion shifter security guard must protect the Arceneaux woman. A spell, to have him fall in love with her, guarding her, with his life, this must be done.”
Leandra fought back the gasp. She couldn’t allow this to happen. She couldn’t have another witch handling this, making him fall in love with the Arceneaux shifter woman forever. There was only one option. Especially if she didn’t want to lose Theo.
“I’ll do it.”
Chapter Sixteen
Black Glade Bayou, Louisiana
Leandra kneeled and studied the track.
Definitely a large feline, but not as large as Theo’s lion’s tracks.
And it was fresh.
Could it be?
“Lucia. Come out.”
Lucia stepped out from between the overgrown cypress trees.
“You are good,” her aunt said.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Leandra studied her aunt, wondering why she’d come, why she didn’t send a postcard, and why she’d stayed away since that last postcard, the one that had her join Theo.
“You must do this. It is written. If you do not do what is fated, if you try to avert… the shifter will not live.”
How does she know what I’ve agreed to do?
“What do you mean, exactly.”
“There’s no reason to pretend that I don’t know what you’ve agreed to, Leandra. And I know why. Everything is as it should be, but I wanted to be sure you had no hesitations.”
“But I do have hesitations. Lots of them. He’s the man I—he’s—Theo is…” Leandra sucked the bayou’s air in but couldn’t get enough to make her struggling lungs happy.
Or maybe it wasn’t her lungs that weren’t working so much as it was that her heart was struggling not to break.
“Lucia.” Leandra closed her eyes briefly to compose herself, then opened them again. “The spell I’m to put on him—what if I don’t do it correctly? What if he falls in love with this Alexandria? What if they bond?” Her heart tightened, squeezing with a ferocity that brought tears to her eyes.
“I will help you put it together.”
“You? But you are not a practicing witch.”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t trained in the craft of our family.” Lucia gave her a nod. “Let’s go. We have work to do. Your man will be back tonight, won’t he? From his trip?”
A shiver crossed over Leandra. How did her aunt know so much? “He returns tonight.”
“And as usual, you will be the first thing on his mind.”
Leandra couldn’t help the smile that crept to her face. She knew Theo made seeing her a priority.
“How long must I keep the farce up?”
“You will know. Trust your visions.”
“What if it’s a dream? Wishful thinking while I lay in a half-asleep state?”
“You will have to discern and be honest with yourself. You know the price.”
“You never visit during times of joy, do you?”
Sadness passed
over Lucia’s face.
“Seems that is my role, these days.”
“Who do you answer to? Where do you get all this information?”
Lucia shook her head. “It’s not for me to tell. Maybe it never will be.” She rolled up her sleeves. “Let’s get to work.”
* * *
Theo’s pulse raced with excitement. He hadn’t seen her in a few days, but it felt like it had been an eternity. He made his way through the undergrowth, ignoring the scratches from thorns and errant branches.
On stilts that were watermarked, depicting how high the water had risen at various times, and proving the stilts were needed, Leandra’s grandmother’s cabin was an unpainted, weathered wooden structure, not much bigger on the outside than the cabins at Arceneaux Point. Entrenched tightly amongst the rot-resistant cypress trees, the building looked as if it had been there for ages, the roots and branches of the trees had begun to grow around the cabin’s frame, making it appear as if it were an organic, nature-created creation. From the roof of the cabin a ladder, part wood, part rope, rose and rose and became lost amongst the tall trees in the swamp.
Mist surrounded the ramp that connected the slight cabin’s wraparound dilapidated porch. The entrance of the ramp was half-buried on solid ground, then it extended over the water, eventually touching the porch.
Leandra stood in the doorway of her grandmother’s cabin, the light behind her casting her body in a tempting silhouette.
She was clad in one of the threadbare chemise she wore when she was at home, alone, in the bayou.
The way the fabric clung to her curves, the way the material was diaphanous in just the right light. It was far more magnificent than anything else he could imagine her wearing.
She was regal.
She was royalty.
She was Theo’s first and only love.
She was his.
Theo would die rather than be with another.
