by Bonnie Vanak
As long as he maintained his precious control.
Nicolas spotted the turn off I-75 for U.S. 441 and made a hard right. Twilight gathered in the shadows as he drove down the highway, then turned onto the lonely two-lane road toward the cottage. The small cottage in the equally tiny town of High Springs suited his needs perfectly. More isolated than the big house in Melbourne and harder for Morphs to find, the cottage was sheltered by the woods and offered more privacy.
Darkness descended like a blanket. Only the light of the full moon spilling through the dense thicket of trees cut through the inky blackness.
No signs existed to show him the way. He had memorized the map. A grim smile touched his lips. Unlike mortal men, he had an excellent sense of direction.
The vehicle’s headlights picked out a rough stretch of dirt road. Nicolas turned right onto a single lane. Thick pines and maples flanked the roadway for a quarter of a mile, then the landscape opened up, showing the grayish outline of a small cottage.
Their new home for the next week. He pulled up on the graveled drive and shut off the engine, rolling down the window to let in the fresh, piney breeze.
He turned to Maggie, who made adorable growling sounds. Sleep smoothed the worry lines from her face, highlighting her innocence. Long auburn lashes feathered her pink cheeks.
She wasn’t a traditional beauty. Her beauty lay in her tenacious personality and devotion, her inner strength and a surprising courage for one who refused to defend herself. He wished she dared to confront the memory that ripped away her Draicon heritage, but perhaps the strength she’d inherit from him in the mating lock would enable her to do so.
His gaze drifted over the firmness of her breasts thrust against the stiffness of the cheap linen store-bought blouse, the new jeans encasing her curvy legs, hugging her rounded hips. Nicolas reached over, nuzzled the slender column of her neck, nibbling at her delicate, shell-like ear. Desire surged in his blood, thick and hot.
He pushed it down.
Nicolas reached in, picked her up as easily as if she weighed no more than her dog. She felt soft and warm and deliciously feminine in his arms. He wanted her more than his next breath.
But for her sake, he’d wait.
———
Maggie felt herself lifted and hooked her arms around Nicolas’s neck. She squinted, shocked at how easily she could see in the darkness. The cottage he walked toward was square, with brown paint and a dull brown shingled roof. A wood rail fence ran around the edges of the land, ending where the forest began. Beneath a tall oak was a wooden swing built for two. A long wooden porch and sheltering tin roof ran the length of the home. Rocking chairs and wood Adirondack chairs lined the porch. Charming, quaint. Like Grandma’s cottage in the woods.
She remembered the Big Bad Wolf, wanting to eat the little girl.
“If you want me to, I’ll do exactly that.”
The smoky desire in Nicolas’s voice filled her with delicious heat. She shifted in his arms as he opened the door.
“No key. No one dares to come here. The magick wards off all intruders, but Draicon.” He set her gently down on her feet, stroked her hair. “Which proves my point, Maggie. If you were not one of us, you couldn’t enter. As soon as you reached the driveway, you’d become so violently ill you’d be forced to turn around. The suggestion of food poisoning would erase any suspicion from your mind.”
Maggie ran a hand up his chest, relishing the hardness beneath her fingertips. He’d done so much to keep her safe, putting her needs before his own. The wolf inside her howled with a different need than to run wild and free. Her fingers slipped up the strong curve of his neck, testing the hard pads of muscle on his thick shoulders.
His big body was like chiseled marble. Suddenly she wanted to test his weight, feel him mount her and be inside her.
Nicolas pushed her hand away. His eyes were tormented.
“Go inside, Maggie,” he said thickly. “Make yourself comfortable. I need to check the property.”
“This time of night? I thought you said it was safe.”
“It is. I’m not.”
Swallowing hard, she watched him start to tug the shirt over his head. “Inside, now,” he growled. “I need to run with the moon before I take you and release this wildness inside me. It’s your first time and I want to be gentle.”
Taken aback, she stared. “How…did you?”
“I can tell,” he said shortly. “I can’t smell another man on you.”
Instead of entering the cottage she watched him remove his shirt. Moonlight gilded the rippling muscles of his biceps, the thick hair on his chest. Stubble shadowed his jaw, though he had shaved before they left this afternoon. He kicked off his shoes, removed his socks. Nicolas growled again and turned his back as he tugged down his jeans. Fascinated, she saw the outline of his heavy testicles dangling between his outstretched legs.
“Go inside,” he said in a strangled tone.
Maggie watched the smooth halves of his muscled ass as he loped off toward the forest.
She showered, dried her hair and then hung the damp towel on the wood peg beside the vanity. Dressing in a thick white robe, she went into the bedroom. Simple, rugged masculine furniture in earth tones filled the room. The cream-colored walls were bare except for a detailed painting of a lone wolf standing on a hillside, howling at the silver globe of a full moon.
She had to smile a little at the irony.
Maggie sat down on the bed and ran a caressing hand over the carved pine headboard. Big as a football field, the bed felt soft and yielding. A shiver of anticipation raced through her as she thought of Nicolas’s big body covering hers.
This is where we’ll make love.
Restless and edgy, she sank onto a wicker rocker by the bank of ceiling-high windows and gazed outside. Two thick pines sheltered the house’s left side. Aztec grass lined the redwood boardwalk leading from the gravel parking lot. Cabbage palms, looking incongruous besides oak trees, rustled their spiny branches. Someone had attempted to plant roses near the love seat swing beneath a sprawling oak tree.
Maggie went outside into the moonlit night and sat on the porch step.
The cottage was in the middle of a large expanse of field, guarded on three sides by tall pines, live oaks and sugar maples. Tree frogs chirped nearby, sounding like a miniature orchestra. Near a jasmine bush, a rusty windmill bird feeder gently swung back and forth.
The other night, he’d made it clear what he intended. No words, just one significant glance sweeping her from the top of her brows to the tips of her toes. As if he was famished, and she were a five-course gourmet meal.
I’ll never leave you alone for long, sweet Maggie. I’m always with you, always. The husky masculine voice in her head made her jump. The night showed only shadows. A deep throbbing pulse began between her legs. She squirmed, her arousal growing to a fever pitch.
A large shadow detached itself from a tree and approached. She smelled forest, pine. Nicolas. A band of moonlight caressed his naked body.
Her hungry gaze roved over his powerful chest, the sculpted muscles banding his arms and legs and the dark nest of hair surrounding his thick arousal. Maggie swallowed hard. He was big. Definitely magnum-sized.
Suddenly a stab of fear coupled with her sharp desire. Maggie pushed past it.
“What are you doing out here?”
His deep voice seemed thick and husky. Maggie stood and faced him.
“Waiting for you.”
She knew what would happen. Though she was a little afraid, her instincts urged her forward.
“Are you ready for me?” she whispered.
The dark hunger on his face gave her the answer.
Nicolas held out a hand. “Come inside, Maggie,” he softly ordered. “It’s time. It’s long past time.”
He waited, his palm outstretched, his manner that of a determined man. Maggie took his hand as he led her inside. Nicolas closed the door behind her. Turned around, an intense expres
sion marking his face. Dark, hungry. His body taut, coiled energy ready to spring.
A little shiver went through her. He meant to take her. Tonight. Here. Now.
He would not be denied his mate any longer.
Taking her hand, he led her to the dimly lit bedroom. Slowly Maggie removed her clothing, watching him study her. His eyes widened as she stood naked before him. Approval twined with arousal on his face. His neck chorded as his entire body seemed to thrum with tension. Maggie’s gaze dropped to his fingers, flexing and bending, and the taut control he exercised stunned her.
Nicolas remained silent, his gaze hot and intent. His thick ebony hair hung in unruly long waves about his face. But he remained motionless, his naked body like golden chiseled marble in the lamp’s pale yellow glow.
He was waiting for her to make the first move.
She needed this, needed him. No matter what the consequences, she had to mate with him and end this ceaseless yearning.
Maggie pressed her mouth against his. His lips were firm and warm and he made a startled sound, then gathered her against him. Nicolas herded her backward toward the bed. They tumbled onto it, still kissing. Stubble abraded her soft skin as he drank in her mouth.
His mouth slid over her skin, trailing fire. Lips kissed the curve of one breast, then settled on her hardened nipple. Nicolas suckled her gently, flicking his tongue over the crested peak. Maggie arched, holding his head to her as he teased her with his tongue.
He released her nipple with a slow popping sound. Nicolas raised his head and smiled.
Then he began kissing her again. Maggie made a protesting sound. “I need to touch you,” she said, grasping his shoulders.
“Later,” he murmured. “I need to taste you.”
Kiss after kiss he placed over her soft belly, licking her belly button, working his way downward. He was marking her body with his mouth, she realized. Placing his scent all over her, so every male Draicon would know she was his.
Maggie smiled. When she had a chance, she would mark him as well, letting every female Draicon know he was hers.
He kissed her slowly, thoroughly. She made little moaning sounds as she twisted and writhed beneath him. Her arms snaked up, slid about his neck, pulling him closer. Nicolas murmured that odd word she didn’t understand.
“What does ‘caira’ mean?”
“It’s an endearment. It means ‘forever one,’ in our ancient language.”
The soft tenderness in his voice undid her. He’d been right all along. This was more than mere sexual attraction, but a bonding of two spirits. The part of her that longed to finally give in, give them both what they craved, gave a tiny sigh. And surrendered.
His mouth feathered over her skin slowly, inch by slow inch. His firm, warm lips showered hot pleasure as he wrapped his arms about her and kissed his way down her body.
Nicolas ran a hand along the curve of her hip, skimmed across the flat of her belly and delved between her thighs. With consummate skill, he stroked her cleft. Maggie undulated her hips in silent need as he thrust a finger inside her. Her flesh clenched around him as he gently stroked, culling the moisture needed to make her ready for his entry.
“Ah, caira, you’re so damn tight,” he muttered.
He withdrew his finger, kissed her belly button. Licked his way down toward the juncture of her legs. Moisture pooled there. Gasping, Maggie raised her head as he parted her thighs and settled there.
Then he bent his head, and licked her. Moaning, she stiffened as his hands settled on her legs, kept them spread wide.
His mouth settled on her moist center. Sharp, delicious heat curled through her as he slid his tongue over her cleft. Maggie whimpered as he kissed and tasted her. Need arrowed through her. Need of him, inside her. Need to couple with him and join together at last, like two missing pieces finally made whole.
The heat built and her body tensed until she shattered, orgasm spilling through her in an explosive cry.
“Nicolas,” she screamed.
He slowed and kissed her, staying with her then raised his head. Nicolas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You’re ready now, caira.”
“No, I’m not. My turn.”
She sat up, and with a strength that surprised her, pushed him backward. Her wolf howled inside with approval. Amusement flared on his face as Maggie began exploring his body with the rapt fascination of a scientist and the heated arousal of a woman. She kissed a lean hip, ran a hand over his taut belly and delighted in the muscles quivering beneath her touch. Maggie nuzzled his collarbone then traced a line over his broad shoulder with her mouth. She licked velvet flesh over hard muscle and sinew, tasting the slight salt of his skin. Awe spilled through her at the vast differences between male and female. His was a warrior’s body, built like a wrestler and thick with muscle, while her body was softer and pliant.
“Turn over,” she ordered, barely recognizing her voice for the thickness lacing it.
“As you wish.”
Nicolas turned onto his stomach as Maggie straddled his thick, muscled thighs. She ran a loving hand over silky hair on his legs, marveling at the strength in his limbs as she pressed against his hard flesh. Then she slid her palms over the smooth globes of his firm buttocks and then up the ridges of muscle on his back. Pushing aside his long hair, she kissed the back of his neck, loving the groans she culled from him. A tiny mark on his nape caught her attention. She pushed his hair back and went to inspect it but suddenly he tensed and just as easily as she’d pushed him back, he slid beneath her and flipped her onto her back.
“Now,” he growled. “It’s time.”
Intensity radiated in his gaze as he settled his muscled body between her opened legs. Bracing himself on his hands, he stared down at her. “Caira, ah, caira.”
She felt his rigid length probe at her wet, tight opening. Maggie stiffened in real alarm.
“Shh.” He stroked her hair. “It’s all right, sweet Maggie. Just relax. Relax.”
It wasn’t going to work. She was too tense and too small. But she wanted this.
Nicolas laced his fingers through hers, locking their hands together. He pushed forward. Burning pain laced her. She grit her teeth. You’ve felt worse healing his wounds.
Pressure increased. Maggie gripped his fingers as if he were an anchor. His heavy weight pinned her to the mattress. She writhed, helpless and open to him. Nicolas rose up, his gaze burning into hers.
“Now, Maggie,” he said thickly. “You’re mine, forever.”
He pushed hard and deep inside her. Caught by the sudden shock of pain, she yelped. Nicolas caught her cry with his mouth. A single tear trickled down her cheek. He tore his mouth from hers, chased the tear away with his tongue.
Locked deep inside her, Nicolas remained motionless, his hands pinning hers down, his body keeping her captive. The burning pressure between her legs eased, replaced with a curious, delightful friction. He began moving, as her inner muscles clasped the male intruder eagerly, caressing him. Nicolas tensed and groaned. A bead of sweat rolled off his forehead and spilled onto her breasts like a teardrop.
Then something happened. A feeling grew inside her, like water pouring and filling her.
His dark eyes widened. “It’s happening,” he murmured. “Relax, Maggie. Don’t fight it.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she clutched him, silently holding him to her. The emotions raging wildly through her were so intense, she could barely stand it. It felt like the whole of her had opened out and poured out of her, replaced with primitive male satisfaction coupled with such tenderness and humbled awe she wanted to weep.
His emotions, she realized. She was feeling Nicolas’s emotions.
Then he pulled back on his haunches and the feeling faded. His face alight with fierce desire, Nicolas spread her legs open wide. Maggie braced herself as he thrust deeply, holding her legs open wide. He stiffened, then his body shook as he released a deep groan. She felt his seed shoot insi
de her, then he collapsed atop her. Stroking his damp hair, Maggie welcomed his heavy weight.
Something had happened, and more than making love. Something wonderful, and slightly frightening.
“Almost,” he murmured, sliding off her and kissing her temple. “Not quite, but it started. We just weren’t ready yet.”
They lay in drowsy contentment as Maggie curled against him, her head pillowed on his broad shoulder. Her fingers slid through the damp hairs on his chest.
“I know so little about you,” she mused. “Tell me about your ranch in New Mexico.”
She felt him stiffen slightly. “It’s some distance from pack territory. I hadn’t lived there in years until my banishment. I used to raise quarter horses, but sold them off and abandoned the ranch. Made a bit of money, which I put into investments. I had spent most of my time at the hunting lodge the pack owns. It’s in the mountains, and many of our people have settled there since the Morph attacks increased.”
“Do you miss it?”
His deep chest rose and fell. “Sometimes. I had converted the barn into a workshop where I did woodwork, but since I was spending so much time at the pack lodge, Damian had a workshop built for me on pack territory.”
“Woodwork? Carvings?”
“Furniture. I like working with my hands. Haven’t done so in a while. No time.”
“Why not?” Maggie raised herself up and peered down at him. Auburn curls curtained her face. “You can’t spend all your time prowling about for Morphs and caring for the pack.”
He cupped her cheek. “It’s who I am, Maggie. I have a duty to the pack. I’m the warrior who keeps them safe. I have knowledge of the enemy few others claim.”
“Even a warrior has to rest now and then.”
He remained silent so long she wondered if he’d heard. Then Nicolas turned suddenly and clutched her so tightly she nearly yelped.
“There is no rest for me,” he muttered. “I can’t.”
“You can with me.” Maggie stroked his head, wishing she could erase the haunted look in his dark eyes.
