Waiting For You

by Glenda Diana

  Too soon it ended. His mouth was moving down to her belly. His hands moved to the tops of her thighs. Then he was opening her so that he could move each of his legs between hers. The feel of his fingers moving lower made her liquid flow freely. Then his fingertips brushed against the outer recesses of her. Her hips arched upward when he touched one overly sensitive spot making her cry out softly. She didn't know exactly what he was doing to her, but she prayed he wouldn't stop.

  Zebual watched her. She was all heat and fire. He could smell the juices of her and it brought a growl to his lips, but he wouldn't let it pass. Her wetness coated his fingertips. He closed his eyes for just a moment as he eased one finger into her tightness. The muscles of her passage squeezed and pulled at him. He was so close to the elixir he required that his mouth watered for it.

  Her hips raised and her legs opened further at the feel of his mouth against her most private area. Her head lifted and she watched as his tongue lapped at the very core of her. The beat of her heart faltered when he raised his head. Her wetness covered his lips and chin. The red haze of his eyes glowed with intensity. He was waiting for her to give her acceptance. Her hand touched his head, smoothing over his white/black hair and then she was pulling him to the heat of her. With a soft groan, he lowered his head. Her hands fell to the side and she clutched at the sheets of his bed. Over and over her world spun into focus before careening away. When she reached the top of the chasm she could hear the darkness call out to her and she answered.

  Her soft scream filled Zebual's ears as he drank from her. He moved up her body until his shaft brushed against her core. Ever so slowly he eased into her slick opening. He paused, watching her closely as her body adjusted to his size. Her soft gasp made his heart ache to soothe her. Slowly, he began moving until she caught on to the rhythm he had set. He moved her legs up higher and grasped the firmness of her bottom, pulling her tighter to him as he sank deeper within her.

  She met each movement, not holding back one fragment of herself from him. Each stroke made her grow tighter and tighter. She was pulled, clutched and suckled him in to the very depth of her soul. Then she came apart around him, her climax so great it pulled the seed from his body in an explosion of rapture.

  Arysa slowly came back from the world of dark illusions to find herself cuddled within Zebual's arms. It hadn't been a dream. She had let Zebual make love to her and most startling of all, she had wanted, enjoyed and exalted in it. Their positions were reversed. He held her, his hands smoothing gently over her back, as the hairs on his chest tickled her nose. It was strange to be held like this yet it felt nice. Her hand lay on his side and she could feel the sweat of his skin.

  "Don't you dare ask me if I'm all right," he murmured, when her head tilted back so she could look at him.

  Arysa ducked her head and smiled against his chest. "I wouldn't dream of it," she said softly, as her hand moved upward along the ridge of his ribs.

  "I have needed you for so long."

  Her heart lurched with his words and she found herself moving closer to him. "Zebual?"

  "No, Arysa. Don't talk. Don't let your reasoning and common sense come to surface ... not yet. Let me hold you and perhaps make love to you again before you let them in."

  It was a plea and one that nearly broke her heart. "I was only going to say yes."

  Zebual lifted her face and stared into her eyes. "Yes? About what?"

  "To marrying you," she replied and then smiled.

  She had already given him the treasure he sought and now she was offering him herself. "Why?"

  Her dark brows slanted downward. "Why? What kind of question is that?"

  He laughed. "I thought you were against the idea of marrying me. That you would rather not be joined to a man like me again."

  Arysa shook her head. "I just let you make love to me and still you think you repulse me in some way? I don't know whether I should hit you because you do yourself an injustice or because you think me to be some flighty and obviously loose woman."

  "Never would I think so little of you," he said, reaching down to touch the breast nearest him. The nipple budded to life instantly. "I find that I need you more than anything, Arysa. I want nothing more than for you to be joined with me in vows and to make love to you night after night and hour upon hour."

  The kindled fire in her began to grow as he played with her breast. Moving so that she lay half on him, she stared down into his face. The lines seemed less noticeable and a new strength seemed to radiate through him. "Night after night and hour upon hour?" she whispered, as her fingers moved over his face.

  "Yes," he murmured. "I'm a sick man and you are the cure for me."

  "All of this confuses me," she said, with a blush. "But then that seems to be my constant state of mind since awakening in this strange world of unknown. If I am what you need to get well, Zebual, then I'm yours."

  "Body and soul?"

  "Yes."

  With a groan he pulled her to him and buried his face against her neck. "Thank you, Arysa. Thank you for tonight and thank you for agreeing to join with me."

  "And I thank you, Zebual."

  "For what?" he groaned. "Storming your defenses and having my way with you?"

  "Yes."

  "And what of love, Arysa? You told me that people should marry for love."

  Cupping his face, she stared into his light blue eyes and then at his lips. "I don't know how it happened, but I fell in love with you weeks ago. Tonight was meant to be. I know that if I had asked, you would have stopped at any time, but I have wanted you also. So you see, I must love you a great deal to put my fears aside and follow my yearnings."

  Zebual's heart was caught between pounding with fear and with joy. She loved him. He didn't understand how she could love him, but he wasn't one to look for reasoning when he had just been given the greatest of all gifts. "You love me?" he whispered, wishing her to say those words again.

  "Yes," she softly sighed, as she moved to kneel at this side. Her eyes met his and she smiled. Starting at his shoulders, she let her hands move over him. The black hairs seemed to out number the white ones, she thought, as her fingers threaded through the thatch that covered his chest. She paused at the feel of his hard male nipples. Between her forefingers and thumbs she rolled them gently before giving each a little tug that pulled a groan from Zebual.

  "Have I hurt you?"

  Zebual shook his head. "Continue with your exploring."

  Arysa smiled. "By your command, Sir Knight."

  She could feel his heart beating within his chest. Her hands moved down over the rib bones, down to the flat of his stomach. The hair she noticed turned darker in shade the closer it came to the nest where his sleeping organ was stirring to life.

  "You're much too thin," she murmured, as her fingers continued downward. "Yet, even so, you're very handsome, Zebual. There is a strength about you that I never noticed before." She glanced up and smiled. "Of course, I had never seen you naked before."

  "And though I'm too thin ... "

  Arysa reached up and covered his lips. "Shhh, don't," she whispered. "I find that I want you. I want to touch you, to see you and to feel you. Would you deny me these things?"

  Zebual shook his head. How could he when they were all the things that he wanted too? His body was alive for the first time in what seemed to be forever. The healing was beginning, he could feel it in the marrow of his bones. Soon he would be well again and soon he would have Arysa with him forever. She was the core of his existence. She was the very essence of his life. A growl he was helpless to stop slid past his lips when her fingers wrapped around his hard length.

  "Careful, love," he breathed. "Remember, I'm a weak and frail man."

  "I see nothing weak or frail about this, Zebual."

  He laughed when her cheeks turned scarlet. "I'm glad. Do you plan on staring at it and caressing it or do you have other plans for this strong and vital part of me?"

  When she looked up at him, he not
iced how dark her eyes had grown. He understood what was giving her pause. Reaching down, he covered her hand with his and then showed her what to do. At the sound of her gasp, he moaned. The head of his shaft grew damp with each exquisite stroke administered. He thought, surely he would lose his seed when her tongue brushed against the crown of him.

  "Come here, Arysa," he rasped out.

  She did as he asked and found herself on her back. She opened for him and raised her hips for his entry. They moved together as one, in a dance that seemed so familiar and yet new and renewed. Pulling her legs up higher, she pulled him closer to her so that her breasts were flattened against his chest. Their eyes met and held as they continued moving toward one goal, one end. His hands buried themselves in her thick dark hair. She could feel him growing and throbbing more fully inside her depth.

  There were no words between them, but none were needed. They were one and they could feel and sense what the other was saying without the words. Her hands clutched at him when she felt her climax begin and start climbing upward. He sensed it and held her closer. His lips found the beating pulse at her neck and he kissed it, massaged it with his tongue until he felt her muscles begin to tighten and caress his hardness. Then he moved up and captured her lips just as her release slammed into her, pulling a scream from her lungs. He inhaled it, swallowed it and returned his own groan of release as his seed pumped from him.

  As she slowly floated on the wings of rapture, Zebual held her close to him, afraid to let her go. Her loving, the taste of her, all of it was needed in order for him to recover. How could he explain it to her? He couldn't without going against the rule and that he wouldn't do. For now he would take her offering and rejoice in the strength that it gave him.

  He held her that way until the sky began to lighten slightly. Though he hated to, it was time he sent her from his room and back to her own. He wanted to keep her at his side and yet he couldn't. Soon, he promised himself. Soon they would come to the crux of their time and soon all would go on or it would end for all of eternity.

  Arysa could just vaguely remember Zebual leading her back to her own bed. She could recall him curling up against her back and holding her. But when she awoke several hours later it was to find herself alone and the door between their rooms locked. She was tempted to beat on the door, but she restrained her urge and instead bathed.

  Her body was sore in places that she hadn't known existed until now. Muscles ached and yet her heart was light. None of it made any sense and she feared if she sat and tried to contemplate every aspect of what she was experiencing she would end up destroying the wonder they had shared.

  Last night she had begun building the new memories to take the place of the ones she had lost ... Memories of her and Zebual and their new beginning. She loved him, her heart sang with her joy and she wanted to tell everyone about it and yet she wanted to hold it close, secret it away and only share it with Zebual.

  Just thinking of him brought a tingling to her very core. She wanted to hold him again, to have him make love to her and to experience the pleasures that he had showed her. The tingling deep inside her felt as though it was growing into a demand that needed taken care of. What a wanton she had become. She smiled and hugged her arms around herself.

  The only way she was going to make it through the rest of today was to keep herself occupied until she could be with Zebual this evening. As she passed the door to his room, she let her hand glide over the smooth wood. A sigh slipped from her before she hurried downstairs.

  Arysa was startled to find Mrs. Reed standing at the foot of the stairs. It seemed as though she had been lying in wait. The older woman beamed a bright smile as she announced that breakfast was ready. Tension pulled at the center of Arysa as she watched the older woman walk away. She glanced down at herself, expecting to see some kind of evidence declaring what she and Zebual had shared throughout the night. Closing her eyes, she tried to gain control of the silly thoughts running through her mind. There was no damning evidence and even if there were, what did it matter? For the past three months everyone had been telling her that she was Zebual's wife ... and husband and wife had the right to enjoy such pleasures together.

  A light heated blush came over her face and neck. Suddenly she had an overwhelming urge to escape out into the garden and dance. She felt glorious and it was all Zebual's doing. Her dreams had shown her a mystic realm to the world of loving. But Zebual's loving was real, nothing mystical about it. He had been tender and yet there had been a fierceness to him that she had never noted before. Not one sign of sickness held him back from making sweet love to her ... twice. Though she worried about his health afterwards, it had not entered her mind during the course of their loving. He had filled her mind, her heart and her body so completely that there hadn't been room for anything but him and his tender assault.

  As she made her way to the kitchen she again relived their first moments together last night. When she had gone into his room it had been strictly to check on him. But as they stood there in the semi-darkness of his room staring at each other it seemed as if their worlds had collided into one another setting off the friction that had always been between them ... lying just below the surface.

  His first touch had made her blood warm and his first kiss had turned up the heat until she could practically feel it bubbling and boiling through her veins. But it was the moment that his skin touched hers that she felt an overpowering craving to show her own hidden fierceness. At first it had frightened her. She had never felt such a craving before, at least not that she could remember, but it was there all through their lovemaking and fulfilled upon her climax.

  The strange craving returned when she boldly made love to his most private part. She couldn't define just what the craving was only that it consumed her almost as much as Zebual did. The cravings were still here deep inside her. She could feel them lurking, waiting to surface again and making her want to run to Zebual's room and beg for entrance and fulfillment.

  "Are you hungry, lass?" Mrs. Reed asked, as Arysa entered the room.

  Hungry? But not for food came the reply deep from her depth. Arysa fought against the heating of her cheeks. "I believe I could eat a bite or two."

  "Good. I've made a fresh batch of scones to spread my berry jam on. You can have a 'bite or two' of them while I make up some eggs and ham for you. As a special treat, I've made you some of my special hot chocolate."

  Arysa lifted the cup of warm chocolate and inhaled its sweet aroma. "My, what did I do to get the royal treatment this morning?" she murmured, before taking a savoring sip. "Mmmm, this is very good."

  Mrs. Reed turned to look at Arysa. "I make a special breakfast for you every morning and well you know it. The chocolate is a special treat to celebrate the first sprinkling of snow."

  "Snow? Really?" Arysa lowered the cup.

  "Just take a look out in the garden, lass."

  Arysa hurried to the garden door in the dining hall. The fall flowers were still there but in the afternoon sun they shimmered and shone within the crystal white blanket that covered them. Opening the door, she stepped outside into the wonder of it. Surely she had seen this downy snow before? Surely there was a memory of it somewhere inside her, locked away like the rest of her past. Leaning down, she ran her fingertips through the fluffy white substance laughing as it melted against the heat of her skin.

  Descending the stone steps, she looked all around. To her the snow had a different meaning. It was as if the world had in its own way celebrated the joy she and Zebual had shared during the darkness of night. Again she laughed, as she danced around, touching one flower and then another. The silly happy feeling that poured from her was welcome after months of existing in a state of limbo where she had nothing.

  Taking control of her joyful emotions, she made her way toward the back of the garden to her favorite spot ... the place where she could see the back of the manor with a clear view. As she neared the bench her steps faltered. The stone bench was th
ere, but no snow covered it. Instead all she saw was the dark decay of it. Turning away from the disturbing sight she glanced at the house. Her gaze moving up to the top floor. Her breath halted and her heart gave a painful lurch. In the window she saw the white face of the wolf. Its eyes clashing with hers for only a moment in time before it was gone.

  Without stopping to think, she ran toward the house nearly falling twice on the slippery snow. Only one thought played through her mind ... she had to reach the third floor and see if the wolf was there. It was a useless attempt and she knew it, but still she raced up to her room, grabbed the key and ran to the stairway leading to the mysterious floor.

  The door gave a loud groan of protest as she pushed it open. Cool air greeted her, making her shiver. She could hear the wind whistle outside seeming to make the silence more pronounced. Her full attention was on one doorway, the nursery. She hesitated for only a second before entering. She paused beside the empty baby cradle. For some unknown reason tears prickled in her eyes and the fear she felt kept her from trying to decipher just what the tears meant. Turning, she walked over to the window. This was the same spot that the phantom wolf had been at both times she had seen him. But he was nowhere to be seen and he left no clue behind to even attest that he actually existed.

  With heavy steps she left the room and continued on to Connor's room. She stopped in the doorway, knowing what she would find before she entered. She wasn't disappointed. The mauve gown was there and so was the deep imprint once again marking the spot where someone had lain. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her eyes sprang open. Zebual had been in this room recently. She could smell his scent.

  Chapter Twelve

  The acrid smell of blood made her stomach quiver in disgust. The loud clanging of steel reverberated through her, seeming to shake the world. Then she heard the sound of footsteps coming closer. Closing her eyes she tried to concentrate on the deed she must do.