Dawning of Light (Lightbearer Book 2)

by Tami Lund

  He fisted his hand in her hair again and ravaged her mouth. It was hot, hard, and desperate. Cecilia whimpered and twisted her hands in his hair, squeezing tightly, demanding he keep it up. He felt the flare of her magic, felt it sizzle through his system, heating his blood and causing his desire to charge into the stratosphere.

  She pushed him back against a wall of coats, and he released his hold on her as he threw out his arms to keep from falling over. She barely seemed to notice as she dropped her hands and began to work at the button and zipper on his jeans. When they were opened, she thrust her hands inside and groaned.

  “I knew it,” she murmured triumphantly.

  “What?” he asked, gritting his teeth against the flood of sensation caused by her hands touching his cock. Somehow, he had enough sense left to reach into his back pocket, tug out his wallet, and extract a condom.

  “I knew you didn’t wear undergarments.”

  She pushed his jeans over his hips and grabbed the condom out of his hand, using her magic to pull off the foil wrapper before encircling one hand around his cock and stroking almost reverently. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cushion of coats.

  “How?” he managed on a croak.

  She sheathed him. He pretended she’d done it so efficiently with her magic, not because she’d had plenty of prior experience. He wanted to pretend, just for this short while, that she was his, all his, and she always had been, and always would be.

  “I saw your undergarment drawer,” she replied.

  He opened his eyes, grabbed the hem of her dress, and pulled it up to her waist. He leaned forward and nuzzled her cleavage, while he wrapped his hands around her thighs and lifted her legs. She wrapped them around his hips. He cupped her ass, massaging, while he fought the instinct to flip her around and thrust into her from behind. His fingers skimmed lower, across the wet satin of her panties. He growled, grasped the scrap of material, and tore it from her body. She gasped and whispered, “Yes.”

  “Why were you in my underwear drawer?” It wasn’t even important at the moment. He didn’t care. But he was so damn close to the edge, he was using any means necessary to pull himself back.

  His fingers stroked between her legs, now unencumbered by lace and satin. She was soaking wet. He groaned. She grabbed his hand, guided him, encouraged him to stroke against her harder, faster.

  Dominant women were so fucking hot.

  She cupped his hand, pressed two of his fingers into her opening. His hips bucked of their own accord as she keened out her pleasure at the intrusion.

  “Cici,” he whispered.

  She abruptly pushed his hand away and grabbed his cock. “I need you,” she said. “Inside me. Now.”

  “Whatever you want,” he promised.

  He cupped her ass, lifting her hips. She spread her knees and positioned his cock. He pressed against her, sliding into her with absolutely no resistance whatsoever. She locked her ankles behind his back and lifted her hips, pulling him in more deeply. His hips flexed and she gasped, crooning, “Oh, Finn.”

  Her hands slipped under his shirt and her nails scored his back. She met him thrust for thrust as he slammed into her, again and again, goaded by her whispered words of encouragement. The words faded into guttural sounds, and he felt the rush in his head as well as in his body, as her orgasm swamped her, hitting them both, and she began to glow like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm. His lighthouse, his storm.

  He completely lost control then, his hips jackhammering against her until his entire body went rigid, and his own release swept through his body, sucking everything out of him while at the same time taking him to the highest heights of pleasure, if only for a few moments.

  He sank to his knees, still holding her against him, so that she was sitting in his lap. He leaned his head against the coats again, closing his eyes and reveling in the moment. He felt it as she rested her cheek against his shoulder.

  “I was trying to rile you up.”

  “Huh?” he asked.

  “Your undergarment drawer. I deliberately went through your bedchamber, in an effort to rile you.”

  “I think you succeeded.”

  “Is that why you were so angry with me?” she whispered as she stroked his chest.

  “Ah hell, are you one of those women who likes to talk after sex?”

  “Not normally,” she admitted. “But we do have a lot to talk about, don’t you think?”

  “I’d rather just act and not waste time with the talking.”

  Cecilia smiled and stroked her fingertips over his chest, under his shirt. He felt the trail of magic swirling over his skin. “Well, I suspect you need a few minutes to regenerate, so let’s talk in the meantime.”

  “Shouldn’t we get back to the discussions? We still have to figure out who the hell wants you dead.”

  “You’re ruining my afterglow,” she accused him. “Now stop it, or I won’t let this happen again.”

  He gave her an amused look. “You think so, do you?” Unless he was very much mistaken, she’d been just as into it as he was. She might not want forever, but she certainly wanted him right now. And frankly, for the moment, he’d take whatever the hell he could get.

  “Come on, Finn.”

  He blew out a breath. She wanted honesty? Fine. He’d give her honesty. To a point anyway.

  “I wasn’t mad, at least, not like you think. I was just—I was trying to put distance between us. I realized I wanted you, and I wasn’t sure you felt the same way. Backing off seemed to make more sense than pressing the issue.”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “I propositioned you in the shower,” she protested.

  “Your brain wasn’t functioning on all cylinders,” he pointed out.

  “I went to Tennessee because I was afraid you intended to move there.”

  He shook his head. “I only went to visit, Cici. My responsibilities are here, in the coterie.”

  “I’m a responsibility?”

  “Yes.”

  She tried to push away, but he kept his arms wrapped firmly around her waist.

  “Stop taking offense, Cecilia. You know damn well what I mean. Who the hell else manages to get swamped in a kayak when there are no other boats around? Who the hell else manages to get their drink poisoned and loses four hours’ worth of time? Who the hell else gets giant snowballs thrown at them? And remember that arrow, when we were in the woods? I bet that was aimed at you too. Whether you believe it or not, you need someone to watch over you.”

  “You sound like my parents and Tanner and Samuel.”

  “Don’t ever put me in the same category as that bastard Samuel.”

  “Don’t try to put a leash on me, Finn.”

  He arched his brows. “A leash, huh? That sounds tempting.”

  She smiled demurely. “Perhaps I should put the leash on you,” she suggested. “You are the animal, after all.”

  “No way in hell.”

  “We could use a safe word. All you have to do is say the word and I will—”

  “Not on your life.” His words belied the excitement he felt at the prospect of Cecilia dominating him. Magic flared, bright and hot. They both looked down at the source.

  And stared at his hands. He lifted one of them, twisted it to and fro. As he watched, the glow began to recede.

  “What the hell?” he whispered, awed by the sight.

  “Lightbearers have the ability to share their magic. I guess, sometimes, when you have sex, it happens inadvertently. It happens to Olivia when she sleeps with Tanner, too. I’m guessing it’s connected to the intensity of the orgasm,” Cecilia said impishly.

  “Glad I could oblige you,” he said, forcing himself to sound nonchalant, as he reluctantly pulled away from her. He would like to have another go-round—despite the glow—but this closet was damned cramped, and if they stayed away too long, someone was bound to notice they were missing.

  Besides, he needed to breathe, needed to think. Needed
to wrap his head around what just happened. Not only had he just had sex with Cecilia Druthers—in a closet, for fuck’s sake—and not only had it been the best sex of his damn life—but he’d started glowing afterward.

  And he knew damn well what that meant. It meant he’d gone and gotten himself emotionally vested in a woman who wanted nothing more than good old-fashioned stress relief.

  * * * *

  In Finn’s opinion, too many people were now aware that someone wanted Cecilia dead. Gossip spread like wildfire within a pack, and he had no reason to believe it was not the same in a coterie. Sooner or later, the would-be killer would become aware that they knew he was after Cecilia, and then it would be all the more difficult to track him down.

  Another frustrating aspect of this situation was that he was too afraid to leave Cecilia’s side to actually go out and try to hunt down the culprit himself. Considering he was normally a damn good tracker, he should be out there as they spoke, doing his thing, tracking this person, cornering him, and—ultimately—killing him. No one threatened Cecilia without Finn’s retribution.

  And if that wasn’t frustrating enough, actually spending so much time by Cecilia’s side was quite possibly the height of frustration. He could still smell the scent of their lovemaking, and the sappy grin on her face told him she’d enjoyed it as much as he had. The heated looks she gave him through half-closed eyes told him she wanted to do it again. Her willingness to remain by his side without an argument spoke volumes.

  All of which made him want to drag her upstairs to any one of the innumerable rooms in this massive beach house and go for a repeat performance. Which was exactly what he should not do. Every time he looked down at his still slightly glowing hands, he sobered, told himself that while he’d been unable to resist the first time, there was absolutely no reason there needed to be a second time. Cecilia was not the mating kind, was not the maternal kind.

  It struck him as slightly less than masculine that he was so concerned about that aspect of a relationship, but he also knew there was not a damn thing he could do about it. He knew that with each consecutive time he had sex with the Lightbearer, he would become more deeply and emotionally attached, and who the hell wanted to deal with the repercussions when she lost interest and went her own way?

  After they’d returned to the entertainment room, Tanner suggested that he and Finn head out to the area of the woods from which the massive snowball had come to see if they could determine anything. He had been reluctant to leave, even though he’d just coupled with Cecilia and had finally relieved the pressure of the stress of witnessing her near death.

  “They’re plenty well enough protected in here,” Tanner said, reading his thoughts. “Sander and Dane are there, and Cecilia said she would ward the house as soon as we leave. Come on. I want to be back before dark.”

  Even though he put on a brave front, Finn knew that Tanner was worried too. If not for Cecilia, then for his own mate, but Finn knew that the pack master’s worry expanded to cover them all. As it should.

  “You’re nothing like your father, you know that?” he commented as he accompanied Tanner through the swirling snow toward the mass of trees at the edge of the cliff. His gaze strayed to the spot where he’d pulled Cecilia back to safety. Where she’d nearly died. The storm had finally hit, and the area was all but covered with windblown snow already. It was hard to tell anything had happened there recently.

  “I’ll take that as the highest compliment possible,” Tanner remarked. “I take it you and Cecilia have made up?”

  Finn considered denying what he was hinting at, but he hadn’t taken a shower since he’d screwed the hell out of Cecilia in the closet, and Tanner’s shifter senses would be able to smell the scent of sex that undoubtedly still clung to him.

  “We scratched a mutual itch is all,” he said gruffly. “It was good stress relief.” At least his faintly glowing hands were covered by gloves. If Tanner noticed the glow earlier, he was pretending he hadn’t.

  “Uh-huh,” Tanner responded. “Just be careful how you proceed. She and Olivia are close enough that I’m sure Olivia’s told her the way of the shifters. She’ll know what it means if you decide to—”

  “I’m not really into talking about my personal life, if it’s all the same to you,” Finn said as he cut Tanner off. He came to a halt just inside the tree line. “I think we waited too long.”

  The area was utterly undisturbed. No footprints, no displaced snow, not even the faintest imprint of a bird’s claw.

  “See if you can feel any magic,” Tanner suggested as he trudged through the snow and began touching trees.

  “Nothing,” Finn said a short time later. “I can feel faint magic in the air, but that’s everywhere in this place. Whoever was here is long gone now, and the snow covered his tracks. We should’ve come out here as soon as it happened.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t about to leave my mate’s side until I knew for certain she was okay.”

  “I don’t have a mate, remember?”

  “Uh-huh. Come on, let’s get back inside. Are you two staying here or going back to your place tonight?”

  Finn chose to believe Tanner asked under the assumption that he would continue to insist upon protecting Cecilia day and night—instead of assuming that now that they’d hooked up once, they would of course do it again.

  “I don’t know,” he said shortly.

  “Well, if you take her back to your place, make sure she stops by her parents’ house, so they don’t worry,” Tanner replied.

  Finn hoped Cecilia would want to stay at the beach house. It would be easier to protect and yet avoid her in the massive home, which was warded against any potential intruders. If they went to his tiny cottage, they would be alone and all but tripping over each other. Not to mention there was only one bed there.

  *

  “Finn’s cottage,” Cecilia replied when Tanner asked the question. If anyone wondered at her immediate response, no one said it out loud.

  “Really bad idea,” Finn said. “You’re safer here.”

  “I’m safer wherever you are,” she retorted. “And I know you would rather sleep in your own home, in your own bed.”

  “It doesn’t matter to—”

  “Plus, Cici should stop by her parents’ cottage, let them know that she’s safe and sound.” Olivia echoed her mate’s earlier comment, thus sealing Finn’s fate, at least for the night.

  * * * *

  They went to Finn’s house first, and were barely inside the door before Cecilia attacked him, tugging on his pants and pulling his shirt over his head. He made a pathetic attempt to convince her to stop, which she completely and utterly ignored. When she wrapped her hands around his erection, he gave up any pretense that he didn’t want to do this just as badly as she did.

  “Slow down, honey,” he said as he pulled at her clothes with equal urgency.

  “I can’t,” she said on a gasp as she kissed his chest and bit his nipple.

  Finn wrenched himself out of her grasp. “Hang on,” he said, and he sprinted through the house, nearly tripping on his pants as he hopped on one foot, trying to get them off. He returned with a handful of condoms, to find Cecilia perched on the table, utterly naked, her legs crossed and her hands twined over one knee, a seductive siren’s smile on her lips.

  Whatever happened down the road, that image would be burned into his mind’s eye forever.

  He stepped in front of her and uncrossed her legs, situating himself between her knees. “Who knew dining could be so much fun?” he asked as he tossed the condoms on the table and ran his hands up her legs, over her hips, and up to her breasts.

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider using the feather?” she asked hopefully.

  “What’s with you and the damn feather?” he asked as he cupped her breasts with both hands.

  “It just seems like fun,” she said with a pout as he bent forward and kissed her breasts.

  “Why don’
t I take your mind off the feather?” he suggested, and then he crouched on his knees and began to play homage to those most sensitive nerve endings in her body. Cecilia arched off the table and did not complain.

  * * * *

  An hour later, they trudged through the falling snow toward her parents’ cottage. Dusk was just falling, although it was hard to tell, since the storm made it seem as if the sun had never risen at all that day.

  Cecilia had tried to talk him into letting her go alone.

  “Not on your life,” he replied as he pulled his coat over his shoulders, “which is exactly what is at risk, so sorry, sweetheart, but you have a full-time bodyguard, at least until we figure out who the hell wants you dead.” It was both a curse and a blessing in Finn’s book. Every minute he spent in her company made him crave her more, yet reminded him that what he was currently enjoying was only temporary.

  “I don’t see why we have to tell my parents anyway,” Cecilia complained. “They probably aren’t even aware that anything happened.”

  “Rumors spread in this coterie almost as fast as they spread in a shifter pack. If they don’t know yet, they will soon enough. Plus, look at it this way: you can let them know you’re fine, pack an overnight bag, and then you won’t have to come back until this mess is resolved.”

  “Am I staying with you until then?”

  “Yes.” His response was probably more fierce than it needed to be. She would be equally as safe at the beach house, yet now that they’d made the decision for her to stay with him, he wasn’t open to any other options.

  “It’s obvious you’ve had women over to your house,” Cecilia commented. “You can’t tell me they haven’t left extra clothing behind.”

  “First off, there has only been one since I moved here. And even if there were more, I probably wouldn’t have let them get that comfortable,” Finn said. “And it’s just a little disturbing that you aren’t put off by using stuff that theoretically came from other women I’ve slept with. I noticed you used one of my toothbrushes the last time you stayed at my house.”

  Cecilia shrugged. “You and I weren’t sleeping together when you were with other women, so why should it bother me? Just don’t sleep with them again without breaking it off with me first, okay?”