“Malin, if you’re playing games with me….”
The gargoyle’s lip pulled up over a fang. “Am I the court jester? I am tired of the barrier between us. A barrier of our own making. Tonight, it comes down.”
“For how long?” Surah whispered.
Malin inhaled sharply, exhaled slowly, a steely look coming into his eyes. “For now. For always. Do you understand? I claim you as mine. There is no one else for me.”
The walk to her unit was silent. Their hands brushed, they walked that close. Surah wondered if Malin would change his mind, rethink this first consummation of a relationship they’d both foolishly denied for so many years now. And knew that thought was stupid. Malin didn’t change his mind, once he said it was made up. Ever.
As Surah pressed her palm against the plate to unlock the door, she turned to Malin. “If you’ve changed—”
The gargoyle stepped into Surah, forcing them to back up into the apartment. “Don’t insult me. What have I always said about making a decision?”
“Just do it,” Surah said, darkly. She remembered the advice well–usually given when she was too slow on a training field. And realized what a hypocrite Malin was. How long had the male avoided speaking of his feelings? She would have called him on it, but the look in Malin’s eyes warned her not to.
Malin slowly backed her into the couch, a large, plush leather sofa good for extended naps and, well…now, fucking, evidently.
“What kind of lover will you be?” she asked, voice unsteady. “Slow and gentle? Or hard and rough?”
He caressed her lips with his thumb, face impassive, eyes hot. “What kind of lover do you want?” Hooking a foot around her heel, Malin tumbled her onto the couch, covering Surah so that the view of the apartment was completely blocked out by the gargoyle lying atop her.
She smoothed her hands along the hardness of his chest, the muscles flexing under her touch, echoing the pulsing hardness pressing against her abdomen, evidence of a desire let loose to ravage. She lifted her head and tried to kiss Malin, craving the feel of his lips. Malin evaded the kiss, instead trailing the tip of his tongue along her throat, Surah tilting her head to give him better access.
“I know about Geza’s parties,” Malin said, mouth pressed against Surah’s ear. Hot breath wafted into the orifice; Surah shuddered, the air sending tingles along her spine, her clit sparking to life. Malin buried his hand in her hair, jerking her head back to look at Malin. “I know about the toys Geza delights in providing you.”
Surah stilled, her wandering hands clenching around Malin’s biceps. She’d never pretended to be a complete innocent. Geza’s sister had to remain virgin in case he wanted to marry her off, but her little brother wasn’t a complete hypocrite–he’d made sure she had plenty of lovers to choose from who knew how to provide pleasure without complete penetration “Malin, they meant nothing. It was only—”
Malin shook his head sharply. “I don’t care what you did then. But now–no more. I won’t be able to control my temper.”
“So you’ll be a jealous lover?” Surah asked, taunting him softly.
“Not be, am. And I am your mate, will be your husband, not just your lover.”
Surah’s hands resumed their leisurely explorations. Sliding under his shirt, she felt hot, silky smooth skin as perfect as a marble statue. Her stone lover.
The second kiss was even better than the first. Their tongues thrust in and out of each other’s mouths, teasing and seeking to conquer. His tongue competed with her own, the mingled taste of wine and heat and male an aphrodisiac. Surah ran her fingers through the inky strands of his long hair, loving the feel of the slick strands between her fingers.
She looked up into his eyes even as the gargoyle rose up slightly and began to tug on the waistband of her buttery leggings, fear clamping down on her heart. If Surah had felt motivated before to perfect her research, find a cure, it was no comparison to the clawing sense of urgency she now felt. She couldn’t find Malin only to lose him when it was in her power to prevent the loss.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Malin said, tossing her leggings away, “stop. Think only of me and what I make you feel.”
His head was between her legs, strong hands splaying her legs wide, tongue controlling her pleasure as he licked and teased.
“So much time wasted,” she gasped. “God, that feels so good. Why didn’t you speak sooner?”
Malin lifted his head, watched the play of emotion over Surah’s face, a deep, dark satisfaction in his eyes. “I wasn’t certain of your…regard.”
She stifled a moan as Malin moved down her body, teeth nipping sharp little bites on the inside of her thighs. “Are you sure now?”
The Prince said nothing, allowing his actions to do his talking. All Surah’s doubts, her fears, evaporated. There was nothing but the couch underneath her and Malin above. Nothing but the realization of a dream. Surah only hoped it wouldn’t turn into a nightmare–the kind where she was given a taste of heaven only to have it snatched away again.
“Take my clothes off,” she said, fingers tracing the bones of Malin’s face. The Prince had the harsh, wild beauty famed in his family. Stark, chiseled bones combined with shapely mouths, and they always kept their bodies honed. Malin pulled back, pushing Surah’s hands away from his chest and beginning to unbutton her blouse. He pushed aside cloth, unhooking her bra and nearly ripping it from her if she hadn’t shrugged out of it. He stared as her breasts swung free, then cupped her flesh in his hands, teasing her nipples as she hissed from the pleasure.
She stretched, arching her back. “A Prince as my sexual servant,” she said. “I like that.”
Malin paused, dark brow lifting slowly. His fingers plucked her nipples and—
“Shit!” Surah yowled, nearly jumping off the couch from the shooting pain.
Malin’s smile was dark. “A Prince, yes. Not a house cat, Lady. Never forget who–what–is in your bed.”
The word’s enflamed her, even as she settled back to be a bad girl. For a few minutes, anyway. He lowered his head to the abused nipple and took her in his mouth, suckling. She knew better than to expect Malin to ever be submissive, but…hmmm. Thoughts for later. Surah wrapped her legs around Malin’s waist and in a quick motion, tumbled them both off the couch onto the floor, straddling Malin, rising above him with sensual mischief.
“My turn,” she said. She felt like a cat, and not a house cat. But maybe some kind of mountain lion, sleek and powerful, stalking her prey. Ready to pounce and devour. Malin’s fingers trailed up her spine and Surah arched, hissing. “You just have to be in control, don’t you?” she asked.
Malin’s eyes glittered. “Who’s on top, and who’s on bottom?”
Surah sniffed. As if that meant anything. But she got busy undressing Malin. Wanting to see that body she knew so well, unwrapped for the sole purpose of being used for their mutual pleasure. “I’m sure you’re fine letting me think I’m in control.”
“Why would you want to be, doctor? Don’t you give enough orders during the day?”
“Don’t you?”
At an impasse, their narrowed gazes clashed, which Surah resolved by peeling the remaining clothing from Malin’s body. Ruefully, she realized they were both a little too alpha. Even in the bedroom, their tempers would clash–they’d have to learn to work around each other’s personalities to avoid full-scale war.
He lifted his hips enough for her to removes his trousers, cock springing fee because, evidently, he didn’t believe in underwear. Powerful thighs flexed, thick cock jumping as she stared, then wrapped a hand around the base, licking her lips.
“Surah,” he said, voice dark.
She met his eyes, a smile curving her lips. She knew what he–what any man–wanted. Surah took Malin’s wide cock in her mouth, working to open her jaw as wide as possible. It filled her, its length touching the base of her throat. She worked to use all her artistry to provide pleasure. Strong fingers tugged her hair, she looked
up at her Prince to find the slanted eyes shut, the beautiful stone face slack. Satisfaction welled. She could do this to this male. Only she.
Then Malin’s eyes opened and he half sat up, muscles of his abdomen bunching. Surah was instantly distracted. “My, what lovely abs you have, my Prince.…”
“Surah, pay attention.”
She snapped out of her reverie–resentfully, she couldn’t help if she was an abs gal. And then the fingers in her hair caressed down her body, landing on her ass and squeezing each toned cheek. But there was a hesitance in his touch. Surah’s eyes narrowed. She knew Malin–knew when he was delaying.
“What’s wrong? Spit it out.”
“I mean no insult, or to imply you are weak, but…you’re half-human. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She laughed. “That’s so sweet. Malin, every bad girl wants to be ‘hurt’.” Her voice dropped to a croon. “And I’m a very bad girl. Ask the warriors of the court. And they weren’t concerned about hurting me.”
He stiffened, eyes flashing, and growled at her, pulling her to her feet. Evidently no longer worried. “If you touch another male again, I’ll cut his wings off,” Malin snapped, pulling her towards the bedroom.
Surah’s lips curved in a smile. Jealousy looked good on Malin. He shoved her onto the bed, kissing her, then flipping Surah onto her knees, positioning her just the way she’d fantasized.
She twisted to watch the Prince looming over her, staring down with implacable intent. Fingers slipped inside her, the pressure and friction bringing a gasp to her throat, the stretching a sensation unlike any she’d ever felt, because it was Malin above her, Malin inside her. Surah knew she didn’t need so much preparation and allowed the demand to seep into the line of her body, non-verbal cues warriors were trained to notice.
Malin heard, and understood. Grasping his cock in his hand, the mushroom head pressed at Surah’s entrance. She relaxed her body, concentrated on nothing but the feel of the wide cock pushing into her, stretching her pussy, the thrill of knowing Malin finally belonged to her. He met her thin barrier and paused, but she pushed back against him. She was warrior trained, she didn’t care about a little pain. Grabbing her hips, he surged forward, lodging himself inside. She cried out, spreading her thighs even wider from instinct. It stung, but when he began to move, her body warmed.
It began to drive her mad, the slow, deliberate possession. Her fingers dug into the sheets. “Malin,” Surah hissed. “Fuck me.”
He laughed, the deep sound of a man fully in charge, who knew exactly what he was doing… making his lover beg. “Did you think is was going to be quick, easy?” Malin said. “After the years you’ve made me wait. No, Surah. I’ll wring every last cry from your throat. I’m going to fuck your pussy hard–but slow.”
Pulling out, his cock teased Surah’s entrance again. She pushed her ass against Malin, trying to take what she wanted. The pressure, the tightness, the silky heat and steel, the weight of balls slapping against her skin. Malin entered her again, this time with more force, building up into a steady rhythm of strokes that stoked the forge of Surah’s desire.
“Malin!” She couldn’t help the cry that ripped from her throat. The place inside her that brought her such pleasure sang every time Malin thrust, hips rolling in a sensual rhythm. The slap of skin sounded in the room, quiet but for their moans of passion. The pleasure built, fueled by knowledge that this wasn’t some random party oral fuck but the man she loved, giving himself. Giving and taking.
His hands grabbed her bobbing breasts, kneading flesh as he leaned over her, grinding inside her body. An orgasm rippled through her body, a tidal wave leaving her momentarily deaf and blind. Malin’s hot seed filled her, her body clenching around his length, the gargoyle shouting out his pleasure. A fine fragrance of sweat and cum scented the air. Surah collapsed on the bed, not caring to live one moment longer. If she died now, she would die happy. Malin settled next to her more slowly, pulling her into his arms.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Surah lifted her head, taking care to roll her eyes before she turned to face her new lover. “What for?”
A hint of vulnerability came and went in the dark eyes. What he said was, “For not making my claim difficult on yourself.”
Surah laughed. What did she think, that the Prince would be tamed by the doctor, his royal arrogance softened to humble eagerness? Surah would be bored to tears.
“Pack?” Surah asked, tracing Malin’s lip with the tip of her finger. “And then we go to that monstrosity you call a house…and more?”
“More,” Malin agreed. “And then…then we plan a coup.”
She glared at his complacent face. “Malin! A wedding, not a coup. A wedding.”
“If you say so, my love.”
10
Silence descended when Malin landed in the center of Geza’s tower suite. His brother had the dome back tonight, one of the rare nights there was no rain, and the serum Surah had injected made Malin feel strong. Almost normal.
He turned his head slowly, meeting the eyes of several warriors in the room. They stared at him, unmoving, except for deliberately casual motions.
“Brother,” Geza called out. “You never join us for our evening entertainment.”
Warriors parted as Geza rose from his couch on the far side of the room and approached. Malin met his eyes. “I have something to say.”
Geza’s eyes narrowed fractionally, but he smiled and swept an arm with all the drama of a male who was slightly drunk…or pretending to be. “Then speak. The former Prince is always welcome here.”
“Lady Surah, the Princess Ioveanu, is mine. She wears my jewelry and will bear my garlings.”
Geza’s fake smile disappeared. “Is she pregnant?”
“No. Any male who touches her will die by my sword—and then I will go after his line.”
“And what would Surah say about that?”
Malin smiled, cold. Deathly cold. “She won’t know. But all of you will. No more attempts on her life, no more attempts to court her. Stay away from my betrothed.”
Geza didn’t move. “Keep her, if you are strong enough.”
“She makes me strong enough.”
“I need a favor.”
Surah stared at her brother’s face in the wide screen of her laptop, unsure she’d heard correctly. That particular string of words had never left Geza’s mouth that Surah could recall. She ran her tongue around her teeth, considering all the variables. Hearing from Geza at all was surprising. The last several weeks had been…difficult. With Surah’s now open mating to Malin, the relationship between the three was tense, to say the least.
And there was the whole issue of Malin being approached to overthrow Geza and seize back the throne. Navigating their tangled relationships as sorta step-siblings was difficult enough on normal days. Especially on days when Surah had to endure looks of horror because people seemed to forget she wasn’t related to Malin.
“Okay. What is it?”
Geza’s dark brow lifted imperiously. “You don’t want to negotiate first?”
“Negotiate with my Prince?”
Geza snorted, the display shaking for a moment as he threw himself onto his bed, midnight-ombre wings draping over the sides onto the floor. Which said something about his wingspan, since Surah knew the bed was the size of two California Kings.
“Like the fact that I’m your supreme Sovereign to whom you owe breath and allegiance ever mattered to you.”
“What’s the damn favor, Geza?”
“I need you to convince Malin to marry my fiancée.”
Surah poked a finger in her ear, simultaneously checking the volume on her cell. “I’m sorry; I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
Geza stared off into the distance, already bored. “You heard me, Surah. Just a political marriage. It shouldn’t interfere with your betrothal nonsense–I don’t care if you are his first wife.”
A brief note of distaste slid through Gez
a’s tone before it disappeared. Surah stiffened. Geza had made his opinion of the union quite clear. It didn’t matter to him that Malin and Surah were both half-siblings to Geza. It mattered that they now paid more attention to each other than him. That their union meant she now had significant influence, a half-human, over two Ioveanu Princes.
And, yes, that did piss a lot of people off.
“Are you in denial, Geza, about Malin and I?”
He ignored her question. “You owe me for not coming down on Malin for that little threat he made to his ruling Prince in public the other week.”
She grimaced. She’d heard about that because no one, especially warriors, could keep their mouths shut, and she’d been sick of the sidelong glances after a few days and grabbed Niko to ask him what the hell was going on. Malin had been unrepentant. “Can you tell me why I would want to convince Malin to accept a political marriage–which will be expected to produce heirs?”
“I already said. As a favor to your Prince. You aren’t the first Princess who had to accept a sister wife.”
“Come on, Geza, can’t you be serious for once?”
He sat up with a scowl. “I shouldn’t even be asking, you know. I could just make it a command. I didn’t give permission for your mating–and certainly not for a marriage.”
“And you won’t give that command,” Surah said, “because that just might be the command which tips Malin right into the hands of the rebellion.”
Because it was now very open that a faction of nobles and their warriors wanted Geza off the throne, replaced by his elder brother, Malin, the original Prince, before his condition forced him to abdicate. The condition Surah was on the verge of curing…
…if people would just stop calling her during working hours. This was why she’d started working at night, but now that she lived with Malin, she didn’t want to keep missing evenings with her lover–they had so much lost time to make up for.
Summer Shifter Nights Page 14
