Grigori escorted Melisande down the hall to his suite. He felt his body heating in reaction to her closeness. How was he going to make it through dinner? When she’d opened the door to her room earlier, one look felt like a punch to the gut. He suspected it would always feel like that when he looked at her. With golden blond hair and blue eyes, she was so incredibly lovely. When he held her, their bodies came together like two pieces made for each other. She was his, born to be his mate, and he would claim her.
Melisande waited patiently, while Grigori opened the door to his suite and ushered her inside. A table set for two was placed in front of the fireplace. Grigori helped her remove her coat and laid it on the couch. Melisande noticed candles burning in the bedroom. She swallowed a little nervously. But then Grigori held out her chair for her, and she sat down facing him. She was very surprised, when a waiter and his assistant walked in, pushing a cart filled with covered dishes. Wine was quickly poured into glasses, and the first course presented.
Grigori asked about her work with ancient textiles and her expectations for her work in London. She answered his questions easily, warming to her subject. They talked and joked as the evening progressed. Melisande noticed how often Grigori touched her hand or brushed against her. When dessert was finished, Melisande knew she wanted nothing more than to be in this man's arms.
Grigori escorted Melisande to the sitting area in front of the window, while the waiters cleared the table. He tipped both men, then followed them to the door and locked it behind them. Finally, he was alone with his mate. He walked over and pulled Melisande up into his arms.
"Splyashetye co mnoy, dance with me, Melika . . .”
"But we don't have any music"
"Listen to the music in your heart. I will guide you.”
Melisande let Grigori take her into his arms, and they danced. She was surprised at how good it felt to be close to him, swaying to music only Grigori heard. He was very graceful, and she wished there truly was music to dance to. She liked the way he called her Melika, an endearment in Russian. Melisande felt her breathing become more rapid, as a rush of awareness washed over her. She wanted this man, not just for tonight, but for always. It was both exhilarating and scary.
She felt almost as if she had known Grigori her whole life. She kept reminding herself they had just met. She didn't really know him. He said he was in London on business, but he never told her what kind of business. He spoke freely about coming from Siberia and how much he loved the forests and streams. He painted a beautiful picture with his words. She thought for a moment she actually saw a snapshot in her mind.
He gave her his complete attention, as if she was the most important person in his life. Right now she was feeling cherished and desired, and it relaxed her. Was she brave enough to take the next step with him?
Grigori felt her doubts through the heartmate bond. The bond grew stronger every moment they spent together. He didn't dare tell her that he was a shapeshifter and a wolf spirit shared his soul—not yet, anyway. To distract her, he reached up one hand and started to pull the clips from her hair. Once it lay soft upon her shoulders, he couldn't help running his fingers through the silky strands. Then he captured her face and moved slowly to kiss her. He smiled at her little groan of acceptance. He deepened the kiss and reached for the zipper on her dress. Then, unable to wait another minute, he slipped it down. With a gentle push, it landed at her feet.
His breath caught as he looked at her. She wore thigh-high stockings and a lacy garter belt. Underneath the belt she wore lace panties. Everything was topped off with a lacy little bra he saw her nipples through, and all her underwear was a pale ice blue. He realized, with male satisfaction, that Melisande had dressed very carefully tonight and that she did it for him.
“Ti takaya krasivaya, you are so beautiful . . . ,” he said.
Then he swept her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down gently on the rose-petal-covered bed and started to undress. She reached up to undo the clasp on her bra, when he stopped her.
"Do not. I want to unwrap you all by myself. Give me a moment . . .”
Melisande lay back down as Grigori finished removing his clothes. Then he reached out to unbuckle the straps of her high heels, removing first one shoe and then the other. He massaged each foot carefully before moving onto the bed, between her legs. He brushed his fingers against the inside of her silky thighs, as he unfastened the garter belt from her stockings. As he rolled each stocking down her leg, he moved slowly, brushing her skin lightly and causing her to shiver.
The suspense of waiting excited Melisande. There was a flush on her cheeks and her eyes glittered with desire. Next he pulled the garter belt and panties down her legs, brushing his hands along her lower stomach, and then slipping his fingers beneath, as he drew them down. He felt her tremble and heard her whimper.
Grigori felt himself tighten and wanted to slam into her, but he gritted his teeth and kept up the slow seduction. This was his mate. He wanted it to be perfect for her. He unfastened her bra and drew it off her arms. He saw her nipples tighten even more, and she moaned. He leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth, loving it, licking and nipping. Melisande gasped and arched up from the bed.
"Easy, detka, baby. I've got you.”
"Grigori, you're killing me with pleasure.”
"That is the idea, lyubov moya, my love.”
Grigori reached down between her legs and was pleased to find her already wet for him. He slipped a finger inside her moist heat and stretched her. She was very tight, and he didn't want to hurt her. He continued his attention to her nipples as he added a second finger to the first.
"Grigori, please . . .”
"I don't want to hurt you, Melika. Let me stretch you, milen’kij.”
Melisande thought she would burn up, she was so hot. She kept trying to reach for something out of her grasp, but she couldn’t quite accomplish it. She raked his chest lightly with her nails and was rewarded with a hiss of breath. He was so beautiful, his chest and stomach, so muscular and fit. She started to play with the hair on his chest. If he was going to drive her crazy, then she would reciprocate. When she licked his nipple and sucked it into her mouth, he groaned and shuddered. Feeling a little wild, she bit down on the nub.
"Meli, I'm trying to be gentle with you, detka.”
"Take me, Grigori. I won't break.”
Melisande reached down and gripped his erection, caressing the head with her thumb. Grigori growled and grabbed her hands. He flipped her over onto her stomach and drew her hips up as he kneeled between her thighs. She moaned in acceptance of the changed position. She wanted him inside her, now. He pushed into her heat, inch by slow inch. Melisande cried out, trying to lean back to take him fully, but he stopped her, holding her still as she trembled.
"You're mine, Melika. Say it. Say it for me, milen’kij.”
"Yours Grigori, only yours . . . ,” she cried out.
Grigori thrust into her, spreading her wider as he buried himself deep. Melisande screamed his name and came apart, the pleasure almost unbearable. Her body shuddered, her muscles tried to pull him in even deeper.
He reached around finding her clit. Using her juices he circled and teased it, building the pleasure higher as he started to move within her. She felt so full, so euphoric with another wave building higher. Each stroke was hard and deep, feeding the fire, his balls slapping against her behind, a testament to the depth of his penetration.
"Take me, Melika, all of me. Come for me, detka, one more time . . . ,” he urged her.
Melisande thought she was going to die, the pleasure was so intense, and building greater and sharper. She had never felt so out of control. Never had she given so much control to another. She burned. Grigori demanded her response, and she didn't want to deny him. He stretched her, filling her, melding them together, taking her on a journey to heaven.
Grigori felt Melisande shudder. She screamed his name as she flew apart again. This ti
me he allowed himself to follow her. "Melisande,” he growled, filling her.
He felt the mating bond snap fully into place, a quick ache in the heart and a rush of heat. His canines lengthened, and he leaned down to bite her on the shoulder—an outward sign to all that she was his. Then he licked the wound to take away the sting. Rubbing his face against her, he wanted his scent on her. It was done. The mating bond had cemented into place. She belonged to him as he belonged to her. The two halves had been restored to a whole.
He pulled out of her, and she cried out again from the stimulation. Lying down beside her, he pulled her into his arms. She still shuddered, and he stroked her arms and held her close. He kissed her neck and shoulders while whispering Russian endearments to her. Letting her breathing slow as he soothed her, he encouraged her heartbeat to return to normal.
Grigori happily saw the heartmate bond glowing brightly between them. She was his, and he would keep her. The fact he wasn't completely human didn't worry him. There was no way she could escape him with the bond in place. When mates were separated, they suffered severe grief; they needed to be together, to touch each other’s minds. But for a moment, as she snuggled down in his arms and fell asleep, he felt uneasy. He didn't want to own her but wanted a true partnership, her trust and love. He needed all of her, nothing less would satisfy him.
Grigori stiffened when the phone rang. Melisande stirred but didn't wake up. He grabbed the handset before it rang again and woke her. He heard Chief Inspector Ralf Lewis, his contact from Scotland Yard, on the line.
“Solovyov, I'm glad I caught you before you left for Russia. We have a problem.”
“What is it, Lewis? It’s late.”
“Yes, sorry old chap, but we missed someone. My sources say Pavel Funenko knows you helped us with this latest bust and is gunning for you. We haven't been able to find him, but he did enter the country last week. You're in danger, Grigori. You need to watch your back.”
“How did your sources know he was onto me?”
“One of my snitches happened upon Funenko as he trailed you to a florist today. He waited until you left the florist shop to go inside, which is one of the reasons he was noticed. Funenko does not buy flowers.”
“Govno, shit! If Funenko went inside, he may know who I sent the flowers to. Send someone over right away. Melisande is with me, but I want her protected. Do you hear me, Lewis? No one touches her.” He growled.
“I hear you, Grigori, but who is she? I didn't know you were seeing anyone.”
“She is my future wife, and if you ever want my help again, or the help of Dmitry Volkov, you will make damn sure nothing happens to her.”
“Calm down. I hear you loud and clear. I'll post a guard at your door tonight, and I'll be there at nine to meet with both of you. Now go to sleep. We'll talk more in the morning.”
Grigori hung up the phone and looked down into Melisande's blue eyes. He pressed her tightly into his side, and she looked worried and confused.
“What is it, Grigori? What happened?”
Grigori was consumed with fear. He could not lose Meli when he had barely found her. Maybe he should call Dmitry Volkov for backup. The Alpha of the Siberian lycanthrope pack could send help in a matter of hours. Mates were few and far between; each one was precious. Melisande needed to be kept safe. But first, Grigori needed to regain his self-control. Fear often got you killed. He needed to be on the alert, not quaking in his boots.
“There is a situation, and I fear because of me, you might be targeted. I am afraid for you, Melika. I cannot lose you. You are too important to me.”
“But we just met. And did I hear you tell someone I was your future wife?”
“I knew the moment I saw you, Melisande. I told you, you are mine, and I take care of what belongs to me. Have no fear I will protect you.”
“And who will protect you, Grigori? What the hell is going on?”
Melisande sat up in bed and glared at Grigori. What was it about men that they thought women needed to be protected? She’d heard enough of the phone call to know Grigori was in trouble. She wanted to help him, not listen to his posturing. She didn’t miss the fact that he didn’t explain why he told someone they were engaged. Melisande looked down and saw the golden cord of light coming from her heart and going to Grigori's heart. She tried to grasp it, but her hand went right through it.
“What the hell is this?”
“It is called a heartmate cord or bond. It means our hearts and souls are tied together.”
“What?” she asked. “But that's crazy. It’s not possible to tie two hearts together.” Oh, God, he was crazy. She had fallen for a lunatic.
“It is if they are destined to mate,” Grigori said. “The cord is a psychic bond between us. In time, we will share our thoughts and feelings with each other. We will speak to each other telepathically and need to touch each other’s minds. It is the way of my people, Melisande. I take everything you are into my keeping, and give you the same that is mine.”
“But why haven't I heard of this before? How can two hearts be tied together?” She tried to grab the cord of light again, attempting to pull it off.
“Only someone who possesses psychic powers can see the bond, Melisande. This is why it is a secret. Think how the world would react if they knew such a thing existed,” he explained while running his hand through his hair.
Grigori had handled the situation wrong. Melisande’s panic came through the mating bond. He had hoped to seduce her again in the morning, and then explain it to her, holding her close in the afterglow of their intimacy. Not like this, with her upset and glaring at him.
He felt his cock begin to harden and admitted her anger excited him. The more she challenged him, the harder he became. He loved that his mate confronted him, that she stood up for herself. He didn't want a weak woman. But her panic held him back.
Melisande looked down and saw Grigori was aroused again. She started to scoot away from him. “Oh, no, you don't. Not until you explain to me, exactly, what is going on,” she demanded.
“Inspector Lewis with Scotland Yard arrives here at nine in the morning to explain. For now, let me love you, Milen’kij. Let me hold you. You are always safe with me.”
The funny thing was Melisande did feel safe. She wanted to trust Grigori, to let him care for her. He seemed to believe they were meant for each other. Was she overreacting? Didn’t she think earlier that she wanted forever with this man? Were they really tied together at the heart?
Grigori reached up and caressed her face, trying to remove the frown from her mouth.
“So fierce, my mate, so brave! How can I resist you?”
“You don't need to resist me,” she sighed. “You need to trust me. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I do trust you, Melika, with my heart,” he said as he took her mouth in a kiss.
Grigori spent the next hour loving his mate. Trying to show her exactly how much he trusted her.
§
Pavel Funenko sat on a wooden bench facing the river Thames. A breeze blew across the river, cooling the evening air. Couples walked hand in hand along the pathway next to the river. But his attention stayed riveted on a window in the London Hilton.
He looked into the hotel room where Grigori Solovyov was staying. He watched excitedly as Solovyov took a woman into his arms. They stood framed in front of the window—a romantic picture of a couple in love.
“Fool, I have you now.”
There was no longer any doubt in Funenko’s mind that the woman was Solovyov’s weakness. Making the woman a target was a sure way to make Solovyov pay for his part in the arrests yesterday. The bosses in Moscow were unhappy to have their profits stolen, even though the original owners had stolen them.
It was time to start making plans. The biggest question now was whether Solovyov should watch while his woman dies, or if Funenko should leave her body for him to find. Funenko rubbed his hands together in glee. This was the favorite part of his job.
> He rose from his seat and made his way to the hotel entrance. It was time to do a little clandestine work. He needed to leave a little surprise for Miss Melisande Reule, room 403.
“Solovyov will pay dearly for betraying me.”
CHAPTER THREE
Grigori leaned down to wake Melisande with a kiss. She looked so peaceful and serene. Her golden hair was spread out on the pillow, and her porcelain skin glowed temptingly on the light-blue sheets. He loved how one little foot stuck out from under the covers. He wanted to kiss each toe, then work his way up to other delights.
Earlier he had showered and dressed and hoped she might wake to join him. But Melisande slept soundly, never stirring. Grigori hadn’t been able to bring himself to wake her.
Lewis would be knocking on the door in less than an hour. Grigori didn't want him to find Melisande asleep in his bed. He refused to share her looking so dreamy and delicious.
"Wake up, milaya moya. We will have company soon. I don't think you want to meet Scotland Yard looking like that.”
Melisande yawned and stretched. She noticed how Grigori watched her and how his eyes darkened with desire. A thrill of feminine power ran through her. It was nice to have a man want her so ardently.
"I thought you liked how I look.”
"Mine, Meli," he growled, leaning over her. "No one is allowed to see you like this but me. Now, go shower. I will order breakfast and get a few things from your room. There is an officer outside the door, but don't open it to anyone. I have the key, so I'll let myself in. Is there a particular outfit you wish me to fetch you?"
Maybe teasing Grigori wasn’t such a good idea. He seemed grumpy this morning. Of course, they hadn’t slept much. After allowing Grigori to make love to her a second time, she had demanded answers, which he reluctantly gave her. They had talked for quite a while. She knew him better now. He wasn’t crazy.
AMAZON KINDLE VERSION A Siberian Werewolf In London EDITED 3 9 2012 Page 2
