by Bonnie Vanak
Gazing upward, he caught her looking at him. Her rosy lips were parted, a delicate flush tinted her face. Her pupils widened. He caught the musky scent of her arousal.
Raphael stepped closer, his breathing hard and fast. His cock hardened as he studied the way her gaze locked with his, the intense yearning of her expression.
She shuffled forward, and then back, a shy dance. He knew this dance of the female, her natural caution warring with intense passion. Shyness with eager anticipation.
He advanced, his body tensing with aggressive need to dominate and claim. Raphael forced himself to move slowly. Must not scare her. All else was forgotten, but this driving sexual need for her. Emily did not retreat. She remained motionless, her hands in their ugly mustard-yellow casing of gloves now shoved behind her back.
He drew close enough to see a slight sprinkling of ginger freckles on her delicate, upturned nose. Close enough to count the light gold lashes feathering her large eyes, see the swirls of green in the irises shift to blue and then deep violet.
Raphael blinked. Her eyes changed color?
And then she parted her lips and lifted her face to him, like a daisy eager for the sun’s caressing rays, and he forgot about everything but fusing his mouth to hers.
His hand gently caressed her soft cheek. Raphael cupped her face and kissed her, feeling the electric shock between them as their lips touched. Emily sighed into his mouth and closed her eyes. He did as well, tasting her, his blood roaring through his veins, his body humming like a live current. She was of the earth and nature, pure as a crystal stream, and he ached to dive into her, plunder her sweet, innocent depths with his hardened body, let her know a male’s driving passion while awakening her own.
When she did not pull away, he deepened the kiss, coaxing a response with increasing plunges of his tongue, teaching her by advancing and retreating, as if they dueled. Emily followed his lead, the rapid sounds of her breaths and the small sighs of pleasure urging him to take it to the next level.
He ran a hand down her side, ignoring the coarse dress, feeling for the lush body trapped by ugly brown fabric. Her waist was tiny, her hips flared. Raphael’s heart pounded harder as he traced a line back to her breasts.
He cupped one in his hand, gently, so as not to alarm her. She made a small, startled sound, and he soothed her by murmuring into her mouth. Beneath the tender caress of his palm, her breast was full, heavy as he’d imagined. Raphael ran a thumb over the cresting peak and she moaned into his mouth. The scent of her slammed into him like a lightning bolt.
He could take her. She was growing ready and he was more than ready.
Thoughts drifted into his head from her. He felt like a vibrating tuning fork, ready to receive any of what she wanted to send. Raphael opened all his senses to her, excluding everything else. Sensations flooded his mind from Emily. The sharp, painful arousal and aching need, the confusion and anticipation threaded with a tiny fear of the unknown.
Will you be gentle with me, as you promised?
Yes, he murmured back telepathically. Oh, yes, chere.
His thumb began making small circles over her pearling nipple while he leisurely flicked his tongue into her mouth. Emily whimpered and pressed her body against him. Her hips naturally came into contact with his as she parted her legs and nestled against him, as if trying to seek relief for the sharp, flowering ache. Inwardly he smiled, knowing what she wanted.
He was quite adept at providing it. When he skimmed down her body, resting a palm on her belly, she quivered. Raphael brought his hand close to the juncture between her parted thighs. When he started to delve between them, she jerked away with a cry.
Her wide violet gaze flashed confusion. He read her shyness, hesitation, the bloom of pleasure twining with shock at his daring intimacy.
Emily was a true innocent, he thought ruefully. He had to show her he’d bring her pleasure, but perhaps this was too much.
You don’t have enough time to woo her as you’d like.
Raphael made a soothing noise, sought her mouth again as he cupped her cheek. She resumed kissing him as he kept his hands on her face. She relaxed into the kiss and opened to him once more.
This time, he thrust into her thoughts. Raphael sent her images, slow, gentle strokes between her legs, relieving the intensifying ache there, parting her feminine softness with his fingers and sliding between her growing wetness. The scent of her arousal intensified and she moaned into his mouth, but he did not break the kiss. His cock grew painfully hard, but he persisted.
Her pleasure, not his.
In her mind, he touched her where his hands did not. He stroked back and forth, culling moisture from her body. She was wet for him, dripping, but it was not enough. Not yet. He touched the center of her he knew would bring the most pleasure, whispering soft encouragement not to fear him, to relax and let go. Raphael felt her body grow taut as an unwavering oak as the sweet tension built and built….
In her mind, he slipped one long finger deep inside her channel and flicked a thumb over her pearling center. “Em, now,” he commanded.
She screamed into his mouth and broke contact, her head falling back on her neck like a drooping flower. Her petite body trembled with the force of her orgasm.
Her first, he thought proudly.
When she opened her eyes with a dazed look of languid pleasure, he saw a reflection of the male triumph in his own eyes. Raphael chuckled and gently kissed her cheek.
“Did you enjoy it, chere?” he whispered into her ear. “I can do much, much more. Let me touch you. My hands can bring you much pleasure.”
Too late. Hands. Dazed pleasure fled her eyes, replaced with grieving awareness. Emily yanked away from him, brought her hands up as if to keep him at arm’s length.
“I can’t touch you,” she said brokenly. “Never. How can I ever be a mate to you when I cannot touch you to bring you pleasure in return?”
The anguish in her voice echoed the same in his heart as she separated from him and walked toward her cabin.
Chapter 7
T he next day, Emily stood before her full-length mirror. Dismay filled her as she touched the glass, studying the ankle-length dun dress. Buttoned to the throat, the shapeless garment covered nearly every part of her body.
It was also as ugly as burlap.
She never thought she could be attractive to a male, and yet Raphael was clearly attracted to her. It was more than simply chemistry, but a connection on a deeper, more intimate level.
Her cheeks had been flushed with heat, her body had felt a shock of pleasure when he’d done those things to her. Remembering his long, slow strokes between her legs filled her with sudden warmth and yearning.
Her eyes turned violet again.
Touching the glass, she marveled. They had never turned that color before. No one had ever made her feel the way Raphael had.
She longed to touch him.
She could not.
Emily tugged at the dress, fervently wishing she could discard traditional dress for something exciting. Clothing that made her feel pretty for him. Maybe those jeans, as he called them. The denim. Or even trousers made from leather.
Remembering how the leather trousers had molded to his powerful limbs and the firm curves of his muscled bottom, her cheeks flushed further. It was wrong, this attraction she felt. She couldn’t allow herself to experience the natural desire all draicaras felt for their mates. Falling for him would distract her from the important task ahead—saving her life.
He said he wanted to help. But she didn’t dare trust him. She was all alone in this.
He was so different, daring and walked his own path. Not part of a pack.
Emily couldn’t see how their worlds could mesh, even if circumstances were different. Raphael knew nothing of the old traditions, seemed to disdain them. She was too mired in the ancient ways.
Yet, maybe she could at least change her dress. Adorn her slim ankle with a thin gold bracelet.
She swirled around, trying to imagine herself in a pretty dress with tiny sprigs of violets.
Outside, she heard the roar of the beast named Harley. Emily flushed again and ran down the steps, her heart pounding with excitement. Harley was purring as Raphael sat on the wide seat, his long legs encased in leather. Her admiring gaze swept over his muscled thighs.
He swung a leg over the saddle and stood. “Ready?”
Breath caught in her throat. He was so handsome and striking, his eyes as dark as the black night, the wide, mobile mouth set with determination. Black leather gloves covered his hands. Dressed in his black leather pants, black T-shirt and jacket, he looked imposing. Dark. Powerful. A Draicon impervious to all, the most dangerous of all their race.
She grabbed a fistful of skirt, feeling awkward and ugly in comparison. How could she accompany him, in all his dark beauty, into public? They stared—the humans always stared when she went into town. Sometimes they laughed.
“We can take one of the pack’s trucks. They would allow you to borrow it, because you are the Kallan,” she offered.
He turned a key and Harley stopped growling. “My bike will do us fine. It’s safe and you can ride behind me. But that dress has to go. Got any slacks?”
Misery coiled in her stomach. The demarcation between her world of ancient tradition and his was an unbreachable chasm. He easily slipped between the Draicon world and the human world. She stood out like a weed among a field of beautiful flowers.
“I’ve changed my mind. You go. I’ll stay here. I don’t want to go shopping for new clothing,” she mumbled.
She headed for the refuge of her trees. In his deep voice, Raphael called for her to stop.
“I’m tired of you running from me, Em.”
She ignored the warning. He was powerful, but she was fast.
Something snagged her bare ankle, snaked around it, stopping her short. Bemused, she glanced down. Her eyes widened.
One of the vines wrapped around the oak had slithered down the trunk and coiled around her ankle like a playful cat. It held her fast.
She whirled and saw Raphael regarding her in silence. It was him doing this. She quivered in the face of so much power to control things of the earth.
Listen to me, Em. You’re not running anymore. You can’t escape this. Us. What’s happening. Why won’t you let me help you?
She gave her foot a firm tug, but another vine wrapped around her other ankle. Two more snaked out and caught fast her hands. Like gently reeling in a caught fish, they tugged her backward, until she was held fast against the tree trunk, her arms and legs imprisoned.
Inwardly she marveled. What power this Kallan had. Such dark power that she’d never before seen.
He didn’t know she could easily loosen the vines, spring free and dash away. Yet the intense look on his face as he walked toward her kept her captive.
Bracing his arms on either side of her, he leaned forward until his warm breath feathered over her cheeks. His dark gaze was unfathomable.
“Yes, I have more power than you can imagine. I’m not like the other Kallans. I’m darker, but I still can influence things of the earth. So for once you will stay put and listen to what I have to say. I know you want to go shopping, so that’s what we’re doing. But you have to start opening up to me. Because if you don’t, your life will remain tied up like you are now. Stop eluding me as if I’m the enemy.”
He stroked a finger over her cheek, making her shiver with yearning. “I want to help you, protect you, provide for you.”
His mouth settled gently over hers. Her eyes fluttered closed.
“Now you don’t have to fear touching me, little one,” he whispered into her mouth. “Let me touch you instead.”
Emily felt his tongue sweep over her lips and opened to him, eager for more of his delicious kisses. He cupped her face as she tasted him, and her body ached sharply. His muscled body was firm against hers. Raphael shifted his weight, letting her feel the hardness between his legs. Intensity spiked as he cupped her breast, stroking her hardening nipple. She writhed, held fast by the vines, panting for more as he stepped back.
The burning intensity in his eyes seared her. His gaze dropped to the ugly dress. “This sackcloth has got to go,” he muttered.
Fabric parted beneath his quick, nimble fingers as he unfastened the buttons. The dress gaped open. Erotic pleasure seized her as the cool air washed over her exposed, naked skin. Raphael studied the heaving covering of her sturdy underwire bra, a question in his eyes. Emily answered it telepathically. Take it off.
He unhooked the front fastening and slowly slid off the cups. He cupped her breasts and stroked his thumbs over her nipples. She felt them ache and harden.
He bent his head and took one into his mouth, tasting her. The wet heat of his mouth felt electric as he swirled his tongue over her nipple, then suckled gently. Emily whimpered and thrust her hips forward, not knowing what she wanted, the burning tension building between her legs once more. Raphael released her and gently placed his hand over her pumping midsection.
“Easy,” he soothed. “Later, chere.”
He stepped back, waved his hands and the vines released her. Emily fastened together her dress, gulped down a breath, gratified to see him breathing as heavily as she was.
He hadn’t been unaffected. After a minute he seemed to get himself under control. Raphael studied her clothing. “If you don’t have anything else, you can wear one of my shirts.”
Emily gave him a sultry look. “I like the way you convince me to change my clothing, but I think you’d better not do this in a dressing room.”
He threw his head back. His deep, rich laughter caused a funny flutter in her stomach.
Minutes later, her breathing under control, her feelings awash in confusion, she met him outside, dressed in the baggy trousers her aunt Helen sometimes wore to garden. They were patched and frayed but all she had. The shirt Raphael gave her was huge, but it felt warm and comforting. It smelled deliciously of him—his male scent and spices. She kept stroking the gray cotton, loving the feel of it.
She felt warm for the first time in days, encased by his comforting scent. Warmth fled when she stood before his motorcycle, staring uneasily at Harley.
Raphael gave her an appreciative smile. “I like you in my shirt. It’s as if you’re wrapped in me.”
She hung back. All the familiar in her world was behind her. The trees, grass, the earth. Raphael’s riding machine was foreign, a large, quivering beast that belched noise and intruded on the serenity of pack lands.
A rill of fear rippled through her. If she rode with him and took this risk, it meant leaving her world behind and trusting herself to this dark stranger who knew nothing of it.
“Em?” Raphael held out his hand. “I promise, I’ll take good care of you and I won’t let you go.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done this.” She walked around Harley, studying the shiny metal, the numerous gadgets. “How does it work?”
Approval radiated from him. He pointed out the midsection. “Twin B engine, makes the ride smooth and even as the bayou on a humid day. No vibrations.” He flicked his fingers at the front. “Windshield, headlights. I used to have a smaller bike, without a windshield, but got tired of eating bugs on the highway when I had to travel across country.”
Raphael bent over, leather stretching smoothly over his taut bottom, and patted the box on the bike’s side. “Saddlebags, with chrome studs, where I store my gear. Good for all the long-distance trips I make.”
Emily hitched in a breath. “I like the view,” she murmured, staring at his behind.
He squatted and flipped down a rubber-coated piece of metal. “These are for whoever rides with me. Footpads so you can rest your feet. Nicer than pegs. The ladies appreciate the extra comfort.”
She rested a hand on the leather seat, a little stab of emotion arrowing through her as she thought of women in back of him, their hands clinging to him. “Have you ridden
with many women?”
He gave her a burning look. “Yes, in the past,” he replied evenly. “But I’d rather have you, only you, from now on.”
A warm tingling filled her. She sensed a deeper intent behind his words but didn’t question it. Raphael held out his hand. “C’mon, chere.”
Taking a step toward him was a step out in trust. She took a deep breath. What did she have to lose? She’d never taken risks before. It was about time to see what the rest of the world had to offer.
Emily placed her gloved hand in his. A smile of pleasure touched his mouth, and he helped her onto the bike. She put on the helmet he gave her, the hard shell feeling as if she’d stuck her head into a small cave. He chuckled and adjusted it so it didn’t swim over her smaller head, flipped down the face shield. Raphael settled in front of her, his broad back a solid wall of muscle covered in black leather.
“Put your arms around me and just hold on. You can lean against the backrest if you like.”
Emily’s heart raced.
“It’s okay, Em. I’m immortal. Your touch can’t hurt me. Even without your gloves.”
Slowly she slid her arms around his lean waist and leaned into him. A smell of leather and his delicious, spicy scent flooded her senses. Pleasure filled her, as she snuggled closer, opening her thighs to couch his. He tensed, muttered something in his native Cajun and turned the key. The monster roared to life as she settled her feet on the footpads.
Raphael turned. He cupped her chin with one gloved hand.
“Remember, I’ll take care of you. If you get scared or need something, just tap me on the shoulder.”
Why? All I need to do is talk to you like this. She mentally reached out to him. Another smile touched his mouth.
Excellent.
Arm muscles tensed as she clung to him. Emily squeezed her eyes shut as he roared down the drive. When they reached the main road, she opened her eyes. The wide leather seat beneath her was comfortable as promised. Wind gushed past her in a rush. Fresh air, the dank scent of leaves and freshly mowed fields filled her nostrils. The feeling was exhilarating and liberating, but as he bent over the bike and turned right, alarm filled her.
