by Dianna Hardy
~*~
He was in the desert. Of course he was in the desert. There was no other place on Earth that felt like home to him … and this was where he'd met Amy, so this is where he would find her again.
Closing his eyes, he focused on his sense of smell and let the light breeze talk to him. Images filled his mind as each new scent hit him: a scorpion nest under the sand, about one hundred yards to the west; vultures circling around dying prey much further out to the north than he could see; cacti under the earth about to bloom – interesting – there must be humidity in the air. They might be in for a storm soon. And there. He turned and flared his nostrils to catch the scent that he'd almost missed – a compelling mix of lemon, roses, a hint of something that he could only describe as 'windblown', and underlying it all, that unmistakable aroma that was only Amy. It shot a yearning straight to his loins. It was always like that when he was near her it seemed, whether in reality or in dreams. He'd have to keep his hands on a leash.
She was just a few hundred yards or so to the east, and his senses told him she was stationary. Concern stole over him. Being still in the middle of the desert was never a great thing … then he remembered this was a dream, and that the threat of dehydration was a false one. Hell, her scent was so real, this didn't feel like a dream at all.
It took about ten minutes for him to find her. She sat on a dune, looking out across the horizon, the sun making her hair shine like spun gold. His breath caught in his throat and he fought the urge to run his fingers through those silky tresses, pull her head back and consume her mouth with his own.
Caveman, he chided himself.
"Hey," he called out, gently.
She turned and smiled at him. Dear God, his heart actually swelled. She was beautiful … although her eyes looked sad.
"I knew you'd come," she said. "I can see you now."
He stood there, mute, like some buffoon. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn't seem capable of forming words, and where was he supposed to start anyway? Sorry I bonded you to me? Did she even remember? "I've been looking for you everywhere," was finally what tumbled out of his mouth. Well, it was the truth.
Her smile widened.
He took a step towards her, but she took a step back.
"We have to stop this."
Dread filled him. "Stop what?"
"This. This affair. I mean, I can see why I'm having an affair with you – look at you, for God's sake – but it's not fair on Paul, and I don't want to deceive him."
"Paul?" In his mind, his fist met a face he couldn't see properly. "Amy, we're not having an affair. This whole life you think you have isn't real."
She stood there, staring at him, stunned.
Okay, so maybe he should have broken it to her more gently.
"Say that again," she whispered.
"This life you've been living—"
"No. My name." She walked right up to him and placed her hands on his bare chest, eyes pleading. His panther purred – it was dying to shift.
"Say my name."
"Amy. Your name is Amy."
"Oh, God." Tears spilled over her cheeks.
"Hey…" He gathered her in his arms and she clung to him, sobbing tears of … well, he wasn't sure. They seemed like tears of relief. "Amy, Amy, Amy," he whispered in her ear as he held her. "You know, I think I could say your name over and over again for all of eternity, and never need to stop to catch a breath."
And when the fuck had he gotten so corny? Deciding not to embarrass himself any further, he said nothing and just held her, letting her cry through whatever it was she needed to.
Eventually, her breathing became more regular, the sobbing less. She gathered herself and pulled out of his arms, meeting his eyes with her soft blue ones. "Thank you … so much."
And didn't that just make him feel like a dick. She had no idea of all the things he needed to apologise to her for.
He shook his head at her, but she brought her hand up and cupped his face, stilling it.
"Amy—"
"I've been trying to remember my name since forever … since I got the amnesia – it feels like forever."
"Amy, there are things you need to know, and—"
She kissed the centre of his chest. Her mouth was warm and wet, and whatever he was about to say came out as a low groan instead.
"Amy—"
Her tongue traced his right nipple.
"Oh, fuck it, woman, I'm trying to do the right thing, here!"
She ignored him.
"Amy—"
"Don't," she demanded, as she pierced him with her gaze. "I don't even know what the right thing is anymore. I just know you have something I need." She pressed her hand against his cock. Damn thing was threatening to burst out of his jeans.
Somewhere in his lust-filled mind, he registered, with amusement, that his subconscious self had chosen to wear the jeans instead of his loin cloth. Go figure.
"You have something I need," she repeated, her voice hoarse. Then she slipped her hand under the waistband of his jeans.
Minx! He clenched his jaw.
A heady moan left her mouth. "No underwear?" she teased, her throaty voice laced with humour. She wrapped her fingers around him, and he lost his self control. With a growl, he did what he'd wanted to do since he first saw her sitting here, and fisted his hand into her hair, forced her head back and plunged his tongue into her waiting mouth.
She was pure intoxication. Where he was a bundle of all consuming heat, she felt like air – the cool breeze of spring to his sweltering summer. Jesus, he could drown in her.
She welcomed him into her, yielded her control, surrendered that delicious mouth of hers, and all thoughts flew out of his mind, save one: he needed her under him, around him, joining with him… Except no – he didn't want her to see that side of him.
A half-hearted sound of protest left him one last time – this really wasn't what he'd come to find her for – but it quickly died against her mouth, when she pulled the button of his jeans loose and started to fist him in long, hard strokes.
What a fucking fantastic dream.
He gave her ankle a little nudge with his own, and she stumbled with a small yelp. They both landed on the dune and he uttered a little thank you to whomever it concerned that dream sand felt much less coarse than real sand.
Her body under his was indescribably amazing. Every little movement she made extracted some kind of response from his own body.
Working his way down her throat, he slipped the straps of her dress down to reveal the most gorgeous breasts he'd ever seen in his life – small and perfectly round, and just the right size for his impatient mouth. The vibrations of her moan travelled all the way down the length of him when he took one of her breasts completely in his mouth and sucked gently. Her hands were on his head, holding him there as she thrust her chest up at him, and he relished the feel of her rosy-tipped nipple hardening against his tongue.
He pulled up the hem of her dress, and groaned when he found her slick with wet heat between her legs. "God, Amy…" He drew down her knickers. "These are coming off right now."
She nodded her agreement with a little whimper of acknowledgement.
She was feminine – so, wonderfully feminine – he had to fight his dominant urge to just take her on the spot. No, she needed to be worshipped.
However, she seemed to have other ideas. As soon as her knickers were off, she wrapped her legs around him pressing all that delicious heat right against his aching dick.
He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. "You're devious, woman."
She grinned like a cat about the get the cream. "Tell me you don't like it."
He matched her grin with a wicked one of his own. Wrestling her thighs back to the desert floor, he held her down as he brought his fingers back to her scorching centre and slowly slipped them into her. Her breathing turned ragged, and he watched those enticing nipples harden once more.
"Do you have any idea how beau
tiful you are?"
"Why don't you show me," she said, a hint of frustration laced in her tone.
He laughed. "I've always loved you angry – all that heat, just for me. I want to feel that heat on my tongue, Amy. I want to know if you taste as good as you smell." Without waiting for a reply, he made his way down to her thighs. He stopped there, nipping and licking against the soft flesh, the scent of her arousal nearly tipping him over the edge. He ran a tongue along her femoral vein and had to consciously stop himself from shifting as his panther's teeth tried to elongate.
Just do it, it whispered. It'll give her one hell of an orgasm. She'll feel it all along the length of the vein, all the way to her toes – you sucking her dry. She'll bring her legs up for you, quiver under your tongue…
Damn that cat. He fought it back down and instead, brought his mouth to that private place where her thighs met, and the three centuries of his existence completely disappeared from his mind. If anyone were to ask him any question about his life in this second, as the Devil was his witness, he would not be able to answer it. There was only this, the woman of his dreams – literally – melting and hardening simultaneously against his mouth, and fuck it, she did taste as good as her scent promised she would.
Her cries of building ecstasy were long and loud, and he worked on making them longer and louder, until she was tugging at his arm, trying to pull away…
"Please … I need you…"
This time her voice was nothing but vulnerable desperation, and he couldn't deny her, even if he wanted to. He climbed up her body, found her lips with his own, guided himself to her entrance, and was fully inside her in one stroke.
God, the noises she was making … the noises … nothing had ever sounded so good. She was meeting his every thrust, digging her nails into his backside, urging him deeper, and he was obliging – getting lost in her … you're already lost, whispered a voice in his head.
He glanced at her, not wanting to miss how she looked when she came, and for a moment, he was shocked into stillness. Her head was thrown back, and her teeth had elongated. What the hell? Was this because of his blood? Or was this her own shifting abilities? But all his questions were thrown to one side, because it was his panther that responded the loudest. His own canines grew, causing his gums to ache. Primal feelings of pride and possession filled his chest.
"No! Don't stop, God, please…" She was frantically moving against him, trying to reach her climax, or, as he now knew, something more…
Although the conscientious half of him knew he shouldn't, there was not one damn thing he could do about it – his shifter half was in charge. Having been denied its existence for so long, there was no way in hell he could hold it back now that his cat was convinced it had found its mate. With an inhuman growl, he plunged into her again, bringing her legs up higher so he could go deeper. And deeper…
"Oh, yes … take me," she moaned.
Oh fuck.
He did. He pounded into her, shifting them both inches along the dune with every thrust.
She gasped out loud and at the same time, her insides tightened around his cock, which had pretty much taken on a life of its own. Maybe that's where his brain had gone.
He grabbed her hair and pulled her head to one side, exposing the seductive curve of her neck, and that vein he craved.
"I need…" she whispered.
"I know what you need," he said, gruffly, and he bared his own neck for her, but before she could reach him, he pulled away and pinned her arms above her head. "Look at me, Amy."
Her slitted, cat-eyes found his, her growing need evident within them, and it was now, looking into them, that he could see it was not his blood that had brought out this change in her – this was her own cat. Her own shapeshifter seeking to mate with his. The thought made him reel, and for once his panther and he were in agreement. She's ours.
"You're mine. Do you understand?"
She let out a little whimper of want, even as her eyes flashed in silent anger. But this was non-negotiable. If this was what she wanted, she needed to surrender herself to him.
"Say it," he demanded, as he nipped at her throat, still thrusting high into her, into where he knew she must be aching for release.
He felt her climax approaching the way he could feel the onset of an earthquake, but she wouldn't be able to find completion without his blood, and he was sure a part of her knew it.
"Say it!"
The sweet cry of submission left her throat, and riding on it, the words, "I'm yours!"
Thank God. He wasn't sure he could have held out any longer. His chest rumbled with pride and want. He exposed his neck to her.
She didn't hesitate for a second, but sank her teeth into it with one ripping action, exactly half a second before he buried his teeth in her flesh.
Sweet Jesus!
Time slowed down, and for a moment this was no longer a dream. They had both risen above the dream – manifested their own personal, joined reality out of thin air.
The universe seemed to morph and shrink until everything on it, including them, was balanced on a pinhead. Pueblo's focus zeroed in on Amy's blood alone – so powerful – and all that existed was DNA. Hers and his. Genetic strands merged, bonded, exploded together in an orgasmic union, sparking a new creation into existence.
He never knew a single second could be expanded into something timeless and so archaic. It shook him to his core – there were no words for it.
He glanced at Amy. Peace, love, total contentment, shone in her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. He smiled back at her, and then the moment was slipping out from under them, and they fell off the pinhead, back into the dream and the 'real' reality that awaited them.
Chapter Six
Amy had heard that when you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes, so her first thought when her memories came flooding back into her system, was that she was about to die. But what a way to die. The word 'orgasm' did not even encompass a fraction of what she'd just felt. She was on Cloud Nine, if such a place did exist.
The invasion of her memories was the first sign that something wasn't altogether right. She remembered the easy stuff first: Elena opening the portal; Etienne cutting her wrist; then she understood the lie that she'd been living this past week… But what really cut her deep, were the memories that came afterwards – the memories from her childhood that had been forgotten for over twenty years. They choked her. Or was it him choking her?
Him?
"Off!" She pushed against his chest.
"Amy, it's all right."
"Off!"
"Hey…"
"What the fuck is wrong with your hearing? I said, get off!"
He scrambled off her, but she wasn't really paying attention – there was too much, just too much…
Was he off her yet? Yes, he was, but … what was this weight on her chest?
Her mother … she remembered her mother.
"Oh, God…" Where those tears on her cheeks?
"What? Amy, what's wrong?"
She tried to respond, but there were no words, and the weight on her chest was getting unbearable. A wretched sob escaped her, and it eased the weight a little. She hurt, damn it; her heart hurt.
She saw herself running into the woods. Her mother had told her not to go into the woods, and now she remembered why. Someone had been stalking them. Her mother must have known it, but had never told Amy, presumably so as not to scare her. Amy hadn't known then, but now that she remembered, her adult mind was able to put all the pieces together.
She'd always felt so free, just running…
She glanced back over her shoulder. Mummy was still sleeping on the sun lounger. She wouldn't be long, she promised herself. Just long enough to feel the happy way she felt when she ran. With a giggle, she turned and carried on, darting this way and that. Birds sang as she ran. She wished she could be up in the trees with them – she wished she had wings. And maybe one day she would have wings, because Mummy said A
my was a Shape Changer too, but she'd have to wait until she was older to be able to do it.
Amy slowed down, a little out of breath now that she'd reached the lake. This was her little game – she liked to run to the lake, smile at her reflection in it, and secretly look to see if she could spot water fairies. She never could. Then she would turn and sprint back to the clearing, forcing herself past her lack of breath and aching calf muscles, relishing in the challenge.
She fell to her knees now, as she sought out her reflection, and froze. A man was standing behind her. She could see him in the water, but the water rippled as a newt came up to the surface and she couldn't make out his face. Survival instincts finally kicked in, and she opened her mouth to scream, only to find a hand clamped down over it.
"Amy," said the voice. "I'm sorry; but I'm not going to hurt you. I'll never hurt you."
Was he thinking that would make her stop screaming? No way! She made to bite down on his hand, but he seemed to predict her feistiness and the next thing she knew, he'd managed to seal a damp cloth that smelled funny over her nose and mouth. She had no choice but to breathe it in and everything got fuzzy.
She screamed for her mother in her mind; wept for how she would suffer when she discovered her only daughter had been taken.
Her vision was fading.
No!
But she couldn't fight it, and the last thing she heard was his voice in her ear. "Ssssh. Don't worry. You won't miss her, Amy. I'll make sure you don't hurt… You'll forget all about her soon."
