Shadow’s Edge np-1

by J. T. Geissinger

  “Have I?” There was something challenging now in his tone, something disbelieving. His eyes grew dark.

  Jenna opened her mouth to answer him, but Leander slid his hand down her back, over her waist, shoved it without preliminaries between her legs. He found her center, the damp folds of her flesh parting under his invading fingers.

  “And this?” he said, suddenly rough, demanding. “Is this something you want?”

  23

  He pushed a finger inside her—God, so hot and wet—and caught her jaw in his hand, forcing her to look at him. He pushed his finger deeper, in and out—and in—and she made a wordless sound, her eyelids fluttering with every stroke, her brows knit.

  His voice dropped, his tone becoming astringent. “Or will this just be another unfortunate accident?”

  Her tongue flicked out to lick her lower lip, and he nearly lost himself to a rush of pagan lust, wanting to lift her up in his arms to spread her legs open and bring her roughly back down, impaled.

  His blood beat a thunderous call of Jenna, Jenna, Jenna, so loud he wondered she couldn’t hear it herself. But he held himself back, concentrated fiercely on containing the animal that wanted to force her, here and now, that wanted to take her in this open air temple, whether she gave her permission or not.

  He needed this to be her decision. He needed very desperately to know that she wanted this as much as he did, that she felt the same agonizing need for him that he felt for her, that she had surrendered her heart and soul—and not just her body—as he had.

  Her offhand rebuff this morning had caused him surprising, swift pain. It was a sensation he didn’t care to revisit, nor one he needed to interpret. It put everything into crystal-clear perspective.

  He was in love with her.

  Hopelessly, awfully, violently in love.

  Without answering, without taking her eyes from his, Jenna dropped one arm from his shoulders, reached down between their bodies, and closed her hand around his stiff shaft.

  He sucked in a breath and froze. His heart stopped, then restarted with a painful throb as she rubbed her thumb over the tip, feeling the ridges and satiny skin. She spread her fingers down his hardness, exploring his shape, his heat, her nails lightly scoring his skin.

  She slid her fingers down to the base, turned her hand, and brought it back up over throbbing veins and rock-hard flesh, stroking and squeezing, listening to his breath grow ragged and watching his eyes grow hot.

  He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He could barely stand upright under the magical agony of her soft, sorceress hand.

  “Jenna,” he warned, checking himself from savaging her with a thread-thin resolve. He dipped his head and brought his mouth back to the poem of her throat, feeling her pulse warm and vital against his lips. He inhaled the perfume of her skin, allowing the animal inside him a swift jubilation, then slid another finger inside the tight velvet of her body.

  A tiny cry of pleasure wrung from her throat. Her hips made small, excruciating circles against him.

  “I can’t have you regretting this, regretting me.” He felt his own will fracturing away, chunk by chunk, falling down into oblivion as she moved against him, sensual and enticing. “No matter how much I want you, no matter how much I want this to go on forever, you need to be sure this is what you want...I won’t coerce you. I won’t force you. This needs to be your decision.”

  Sweet, hungry lips found his neck, his jaw, his earlobe. His fingers pushed deeper inside her, earning him a soft, ardent moan that reverberated all the way through him.

  “Is this what you want? Am I what you want?” he rasped against her neck.

  She slid one thigh up to his hip, her muscles taught and supple against his. Her knee came up to his waist and she opened to him like a rose in bloom. It took him to the very edge of reason.

  Still she said nothing.

  “Jenna, God, Jenna...tell me what you want...say yes or say stop...say anything...” he demanded. He heard the raw emotion in his voice, all pretense stripped away, the scent of her hair and her skin and her hot, ready sex driving him quickly insane.

  “Please,” she said softly against his neck. He pulled back to look at her face, her velvet soft eyes, her lips so ripe and red like a plucked cherry. A small, mischievous smile stole over her cherry mouth and she tightened her hand around his erection.

  “Please...?” Leander repeated tightly, rigid and barely able to speak.

  Her voice dropped to a throaty, amused whisper. “Please stop talking.”

  And she kissed him.

  Every thought fell away at once.

  He turned without breaking their kiss and pressed her back against the rough bark of their ancient tree. Her arms encircled his shoulders, her legs encircled his waist. He helped her, lifted her, grasping her bottom, sinking his fingers deep into her tender flesh. She was light in his arms, hardly a weight at all. She arched her back, and for one beautiful moment he saw her bowed in the dappled light, raindrops scattered over her chest and throat like glittering jewels.

  He found her entrance, shoved himself into her heat with a chest-deep groan. She answered it with her own visceral sound of pleasure and tightened her legs around him, slender muscles held taut, pressing her heels into his spine.

  They held still, unmoving for long breathless moments, wrapped in each other. Their blood pumped together, their hearts beat as one, while the sounds of the living forest and the slackening storm filled the world around them.

  She softly exhaled and tightened her arms around him. Like a man sprung from prison, he was suddenly, exquisitely free.

  They began to move together, rocking in their perfect embrace, his sex hard and impaling, hers wet and stretched around him. He’d never known anything like this, never known he could make love to a goddess in a forest, high up on the limbs of a tree, and lose himself to her and to the rain-swept sky and to the forest so dark and vast around them.

  Mine, the animal inside him hissed. Mine!

  “Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered, rough, into her ear. He pumped deep into her, spreading her wider. His skin began to tighten. Every inch of his body began to ache with such intensity his chest hurt with piercing exhilaration and a dark flame of secret fear. Fear he would lose her and lose himself, fear for what would happen to him if she turned away.

  “Say it,” he panted, burying himself in her, lost and ablaze. “Say you’ll stay with me. Say you belong to me, Jenna.”

  She clenched her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders and shuddered. A soft moan escaped her lips. Her hair blew in golden ripples across the lichen-covered bark and he felt her body tighten, felt the coming of her release. He tangled his fingers into her hair, forcing her face to his, forcing her to look into his eyes as he thrust inside her and claimed her as his own.

  “For the love of God, woman,” he groaned. The air had turned to fire. “Say it.”

  She stared deep into his eyes, her pupils wide and black, then tilted her head forward. She brushed rose petal lips against his cheek.

  “You know how I feel,” she breathed, low and husky.

  He stilled, panting, buried inside her heat and wetness, and shook his head. “Not...good enough,” he said, teeth clenched against his release, features whetted, eyes ferocious. He pressed his face to her neck and growled like an animal. “Tell me. I need to hear you say the words.”

  She stilled as well, a flame held aloft and silent except for her pounding heart, entwined with him, her body a lovely, perfect arch around his. She brought a finger to his lips, made a small, circular motion of her hips. He moaned with the sensation, her dark, sweet magic, her breath against his cheek.

  Another rocking motion of her hips, a tremble in her thighs, and he nearly lost himself. His fingers clenched against her bottom, his eyes slid shut.

  “Leander,” she murmured. “You already know.”

  A sudden spike of anger shot through him. Very well, then. He’d have to play dirty.

&n
bsp; He gritted his teeth, pulled himself away, slid almost completely out of her. He reached down with one hand and grasped his hard shaft, pushed the tip against her slick opening. She moaned, protesting. Not allowing himself to slide back in, he rubbed himself against her, back and forth, his head against her swollen nub, his heat and straining hardness against her wet lips. She moaned again and began to rock her hips in rhythm to his strokes.

  She opened her eyes. He saw the desire there, the passion, along with the resistance.

  “You belong to me,” he whispered, nearly panting. “Your body doesn’t lie. Your eyes don’t lie. Tell me the truth.”

  She shook her head. “Stop this,” she said between clenched teeth and closed her eyes.

  He leaned his head down and caught the bud of her hard nipple between his lips. He suckled deeply, pulling her taut areola into his mouth, and heard her gasp, felt her body stiffen against him. He thrust himself into her, deep and hard, then pulled out just as quickly.

  Her moan was broken now. He thrust into her again and felt a sharp contraction of her muscles.

  “Yes, please, yes,” she whispered. Her nails bit into the flesh of his shoulders.

  He pulled almost all the way out of her and stilled completely. He held her up with his hands clenched into the tender flesh of her bottom, panting against her shoulder.

  “You belong to me, woman. Admit it.” He caught her mouth and kissed her deeply. He drove into her once, then again, until he was completely buried inside her, until he could not go any deeper.

  He felt her jerk against him, felt the bounce of her breasts against his chest. Against his mouth, she gasped his name. He brought a hand up to her jaw and held her face to his.

  She breathed raggedly for a moment through parted lips, blinking, trembling. He held still and their eyes locked.

  A single, erotic rocking motion of her hips and he almost lost himself. She sucked in a breath and he felt the rhythmic, squeezing pulse of her orgasm begin.

  She said it in a ragged, clipped rush as her head fell back against the tree trunk. “Fine—yes!—I belong to you! I’m yours.”

  It didn’t matter that she said it with her teeth gritted, defiant.

  It finished him.

  He thrust into her, pushing deep, pressing her down to him so hard it was an unbearable pleasure almost tipping over to pain, the best pain he’d ever felt. He couldn’t get enough of her, her gleaming pale skin that tasted like flowers and smelled like heaven, her erotic, feminine moans against his shoulder, her mystery and fire and rash courage that scored a burning path deep into his heart.

  He came in a violent, blind rush, his teeth clenched, his toes dug into the rough bark beneath his feet, heady with the feel of her lush body wrapped around his. Jenna moaned and convulsed against him, coming again. He covered her mouth with his, stealing the sound from her lips, claiming dominion over her heart and her body, over even her breath. He spilled his seed into her and forced his tongue into her mouth as she made a low sound of surrender deep in her throat.

  He saw cold white light against his closed lids, bliss and agony and fierce rapture wringing through him with the feel of her so lustrous and hot and throbbing around him, every inch of her open and raw to him, her heart and soul laid bare, her body wanton and abandoned.

  Surrendered. Finally, fully surrendered.

  When he could breathe again, when he opened his eyes to the sight of her face—eyes half-lidded, skin flushed with a lovely pink glow—everything seemed new, everything seemed different. Even the gloom of the forest around them seemed brighter somehow, lit by the magic they had made together.

  She dropped one leg from his waist, tentatively, finding her balance, then the other. All the while he kept himself inside her, not wanting this to end. Not wanting it to ever end.

  He cupped his fingers around her jaw, tilted her head back so he could see her face better, so he could see her eyes. He smelled wet bark and fragrant pine and the frank, musky scent of sex all around them, warming the very air itself.

  They didn’t speak for a long while, a suspended moment spent gazing at each other as the forest drifted back to reality around them. He finally pulled himself from her with a lingering kiss.

  “I hope you realize,” he drawled, tightening his arms around her, his eyes avid on her face, “I’m not going to let you take that back.” He smiled down at her in gorgeous, dazzling victory. “Even if you didn’t really mean it, you said it. And I’m not going to let you take it back.”

  Jenna, looking up at him with their bodies still pressed together, was sated and sore...and utterly enthralled. A luxurious, golden pleasure had spread through her with his first touch, a pleasure that captured her and took her to her knees.

  And now—as he gazed down at her with the cool wind slipping by their bare bodies and the skin of her back stinging from scraping over bark as he took her against the tree—she realized she had finally discovered what she’d been looking for her entire life.

  More than just answers, more than mere information or facts.

  Completion.

  She opened her lips to speak, to tell him that she actually had meant what she said, but something stopped her, something strange and new.

  It was a scent, the faintest hint of copper and salt carried on the breeze. She frowned, gazing up at him, trying to place it. She knew this smell, she knew that dark, metallic tang burning faintly at the back of her throat. And it was overlaid with something else, something sweeter, something floral...

  Tea roses.

  Tea roses...and blood.

  Jenna gasped.

  Leander reacted at once. She felt the way his body responded to the shock on her face, his muscles instantly tensed, his eyes honed in like a hawk.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  She blinked and felt a chill pass over her skin. The forest around them, moments before so welcoming and warm, suddenly pressed in, close and dark and dangerous.

  “Daria,” she whispered. “It’s Daria. She’s hurt.”

  He didn’t wait for her to say more. He grasped her wrists in his hands, looked west toward where Sommerley awaited, then turned his face back to hers, his eyes gone to stone. Wordless understanding passed between them.

  They Shifted to vapor as one and twisted up through the canopy of boughs, out into the open sky.

  24

  They returned to Sommerley the way they left, filtering through the chimney that opened to the enormous fireplace in Leander’s bedroom. He Shifted to man just as Jenna funneled out its marbled mouth and dropped in a ruffled column to turn to flesh before him.

  He pushed her toward his closet, their feet hardly touching the ground, and pulled a pair of his beige trousers and a white linen shirt from wooden hangers. He handed them to her without a word. She dressed quickly, rolling up the flopping sleeves and too-long pant legs, watching Leander as he pulled more clothing off hangers for himself.

  She eyed the rumpled pile of coats still bunched on the floor from their lovemaking last night and watched his face grow tighter and darker with every passing second.

  Jenna guessed he could smell the stench of spilled blood now too. It was stronger here, nipping the air like the sting of biting insects. She could find its source if he let her, if only he gave her a moment, but he was already pushing her out the door, down the curving staircase. She stumbled after him in bare feet as he dragged her along through the winding corridors of the mansion toward the sound of gathered heartbeats and strained voices.

  They burst into the East Library through the carved mahogany doors, and the room fell into arrested silence.

  All the men were gathered here, the leaders of the Ikati and his own Assembly. They sat in rigid shock around the long rectangular table, scattered throughout the room in small, staring clusters. For some reason, all the windows were open, thrown wide in their casements. The room was nearly frigid. Morgan sat alone in shadow in one corner of the room, her arms wrapped around herself as
if for protection. She stared first at the floor, then up at them in relief.

  Her look of relief was followed quickly by something like terror.

  Christian was the first to speak.

  “You’re safe,” he said, his voice cracking. He looked straight at Jenna. His gaze dropped to her hand, clenched in Leander’s fist, then raked over her tousled hair, her swollen lips. His face turned crimson.

  Her face turned crimson as well when she realized that in addition to probably looking like she’d just enjoyed a thorough ravishment, she was most likely marked with Leander’s scent. Which everyone would be able to smell.

  “We didn’t know where you had gone—no one could find either of you—” he sputtered.

  “What’s happened?” Leander interrupted, hard. “Where’s Daria?”

  “She disappeared sometime during the party, we’ve been looking for her all night. We tried to find you too. We thought you all had disappeared—”

  “She’s been hurt—”

  “We know! We found the blood and footprints leading away from the East Gate. Two guards were found, killed—”

  “How the hell did they get in!” Leander thundered, gripping Jenna’s hand so hard it hurt. “I’ve got a hundred men on guard, we’ve got sensors, cameras—”

  “Isn’t that your job?” Christian spat, breathing heavily. “Make sure no one gets in or out?” His gaze darted back and forth between Jenna and Leander, down to their clasped hands and up to their faces again. “Or are you a little too distracted to bother?”

  “We need to focus on getting her back now,” someone interrupted. “We need to focus on securing the rest of the colony—”

  The voices of the men began to churn over one another, rising in a chorus of noise that created a confusing wall of sound in Jenna’s head.

  But one voice was mysteriously silent. Its absence drew Jenna’s attention like the pull of a magnet as a new scent began to bloom in her nose. It was a fetid, dark stink, like something had died and was rotting there among them.