“I watched from the balcony as each of you paraded across the stage,” he says, his tone cautious. “You were the only one who didn’t declare a mate when you stood in front of the throne.”
So, yeah. I’m painfully single. Way to rub salt in the wound, buddy.
I shrug as if the sad truth isn’t sad at all. “I’m too indecisive. I can’t even decide on a permanent cloak color without changing my mind a dozen times. How am I supposed to choose a mate for life?”
“You find someone who knows you better than you know yourself. And when the day comes that you begin to doubt who you are, they remind you of it.”
“Wow. I’m”—surprised by his depth and candor—“not sure I’ve found that person yet.”
“Perhaps you’ve been searching too long in the garden.”
Blush heats my cheeks. “Perhaps.”
He grins as if the answer satisfies him, and then lifts the brandy glass to his chin. “Do you know why you can’t drink brandy too quickly? You’ll be overpowered and turned off. You’ll think brandy isn’t the drink for you.” He licks his lips, his attention shifting to the slit in my cloak. “But you’d be wrong. See, you have to let the drink give you a second impression and pick up other things you might not have noticed before. The scent of dried fruit is one that comes to mind. Like the apple and cocoa butter lotion you spread over your body this morning.”
I’m thrown. Was my lotion really that strong?
“Your scent is decadent and provocative, as alluring as the brandy, but I can’t fully appreciate it from this distance.” He nudges the chair across from him with his foot. “Come closer. And there’s no need to worry, Ivy. I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”
Air whooshes out of my lungs as I finish my drink and sit in front of him. The chair is lush and comfortable, but I’m on edge and acutely aware of the air and how it’s charged with raw sexuality. He leans far back, legs crossed, eyes narrowed over the rim of his glass. Despite the heat flowing from the hearth, I shiver in the wake of his silence. Is the tumbling in my stomach from nerves or something else?
“But the third impression is my favorite.” His voice is a gravelly rasp, and it’s incredibly soothing to my ears. “It’s the one where you take your time, breathe in through your mouth and your nose, coat your senses and take it all in, missing nothing. You’ll smell pepper and cinnamon and complex fragrances you couldn’t describe if your life depended on it.” He breathes in deeply, closing his eyes as he swirls the brandy round and round. His hands are large, his fingers clutched around the glass tightly. “The complexity adds to the flavor, you see. It’s more than the taste; it’s the scent, the unhurried first sip, the time spent enjoying the liquor rather than rushing through it, that heightens the overall experience.”
“I get what you’re saying, but…” I set my glass on the table beside me. “When do you finally drink it?”
He slides to the edge of the chair and leans over, elbows on his knees. “You don’t drink. You taste. There’s a difference.”
Either I’m dense or he’s making this more difficult than it actually is. Or maybe it’s the first glass of brandy that’s already warming my insides and fuzzing my brain.
“Don’t you taste what you’re drinking while you’re drinking it?” I run my fingers through my hair as confusion pricks me and my head spins. “Maybe I’ve already had too much brandy. My own words aren’t even making sense.”
“Here,” he says, and refills my glass. “I’ll show you.”
Before I can argue, he drags his chair closer, but I’m keenly aware that he’s not touching me. Almost making a conscious effort to be as close as possible without brushing my leg. And I’m curious if the brandy truly is going to taste different or if he’s simply full of shit.
He replaces the glass in my hand and explains the steps over again as I follow along. My eyes are locked on his the whole time, and it’s not until I take the final breath over the glass that I realize my nerves have completely subsided. And his eyes aren’t black, at least not completely. Not like I thought they were at first. Specks of gold splinter from his irises, creating a wicked-cool effect that has me hypnotized. They’re dark chocolate with caramel specks. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
As I breathe in, the aroma of pepper and cinnamon tickles my nose, surprising my senses. It’s strong, but not overpowering, and underneath is the scent of flowers and fruit.
Maybe he’s not completely off his rocker.
“And now you’re going to taste,” he whispers, cupping his hands over mine.
The instant we touch, waves of heat wash up my arm and flood through my chest. It’s a slow burn. A sizzle of awareness that heats my blood.
“Sip slowly, wetting your tongue with its warmth.”
His words dance through my ears and stir something deep in my belly. I’m suddenly burning up. Did he crank up the fire?
He tilts the glass toward my chin, never breaking eye contact. The brandy hits my lips and slips inside my mouth, coating my palate with rich and silky flavors.
He’s right.
The taste is completely different than it was before when I downed it in one swallow. It’s encompassing this way. The scent lingers in my nose, and the succulent flavors tease my tongue. Together, it’s perfection.
Completely unexpected.
And so is Lukas.
He’s not proud and pompous and a total jerkhole at all. I was wrong. He’s suave and respectful. Classy and regal. He’s sophisticated and content to sit in front of the fire and talk about the proper way to enjoy liquor. I didn’t know what to expect coming in here, but from the way the pre-shifters made it sound, I thought Lukas was going to have me strip down for some kind of evaluation the second I walked through the door.
But he’s respected my boundaries by giving me space.
I want him to touch me again and test my defenses. I don’t even know why. I want to know what his fingers would feel like grazing up my inner thigh. Deep down I know his touch will be soft and tender, unwinding me, teasing me. He’d be an attentive lover, picking up on my every desire, slowing my pleasure so that it was savored rather than rushed. There would be no race to orgasm with Lukas. Where Reaper is fire and impulsive heat, Lukas is a smoldering burn.
“What do you think?” he asks, a knowing smile on his lips. “Amazing, right?”
“It’s, ah, transformed somehow.”
He slides closer, his leg grazing mine. It’s as if he’s telling me a dark secret—something meant for my ears alone. I’m entranced by the huskiness of his voice, the spark of desire in his eyes, and the blooming warmth of his touch.
“When you’re ready,” he rasps out as the fire crackles beside us, “take another drink. Bigger this time. Swish the brandy around in your cheeks. Seek out the flavors that entice you the most. Search for ones hiding in the background and try to draw those out, too. And then, when you’re ready, let it slide down your throat like a velvet caress.”
Oh, God.
Mental images of taking his thick length in my mouth assault my thoughts. Although it’s not usually my favorite sexual act, the craving to taste him strikes me. I want to lick the drops of moisture from his tip as he strains with desire, and feel him pulse against my lips as he releases his seed down my throat. I’ve never ached for such a thing before, and I’m almost embarrassed. As dampness pools between my legs, blood rushes to my cheeks.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers.
“What?”
“Close. Your. Eyes.”
He’s serious. A soft ridiculous laugh bubbles out of me, but I close my eyes anyway and lift the glass to my lips. I drink heartily, relishing the boldness that the brandy has to offer. It tastes like a completely different drink than the one I had before. I relax into it as the taste shifts and develops in my mouth, softening in my cheek and rolling over my tongue. As the brandy goes down smoothly, a moan escapes my lips.
I’ve always hated brandy, but now—my ou
tlook is altered. Because of the way it tasted before, my perception was tainted. And because of my fears, of what I thought Lukas would do once he had me alone in his chamber, my opinion of him had warped, too.
“I think I have a new favorite drink,” I say, and open my eyes. Shock fires through me as I search his pained expression. “What’s the matter?”
His jaw is clenched, his lips strained white. “Nothing,” he breathes. “But I’m suddenly dying for a drink.”
He closes the distance between us slowly, hesitating, waiting for my refusal. But I can’t give it. My pulse races as he braces his weight on the arms of the chair, trapping me in the cage of his body. He stops a breath away from my mouth and tilts his head to study my lips. And then, when my stomach tangles into a knot, he licks my bottom lip from one side to the other, tasting the droplets of brandy lingering there. I shudder, my eyes falling closed as delicious sensations flutter through my chest and shoot between my legs. As he groans and pulls back, I can barely remember where we are and what has just happened.
“That’s the funny thing about brandy. Once you’ve had a proper taste,” he whispers, sending tingles down my spine, “you’ll always want more.”
Chapter Four
Reaper
I’m trapped inside the four walls of Ivy’s bedroom, but it may as well be a cage. My thoughts spiral out of control as I pace the length of her room, from the bathroom to the hearth and back again. I count the ticking hand of the clock beside the bed. Curse fat snowflakes as they gather in the forest outside the castle. Sit by the raging fire and stare into the flames.
If Lukas wants Ivy, if he touches her, I’ll implode.
He could have any one of the pre-shifters. That is his ancient right and privilege as Alpha. But if he chooses Ivy—the only woman who has ever captured my interest—I’ll tear him in half, right through skin and sinew. Hate bubbles up inside me as I slam my fist into the hearth’s stone mantel.
The door clicks softly, and before I know it, I’m charging across the room and jerking it open.
“Reaper, you’re here,” Ivy says, stepping inside. There’s something in the way she says my name that plays on my frayed nerves. She’s not happy to see me, she’s…guarded. “Have you been waiting long?”
For her? “Feels like forever.” My vision fills with a blood red haze and I can’t shake it. “How’d it go?”
“Well”—she pushes past me, her cloak fanning out, ghosting over the hardwood behind her—“I wasn’t submissive or timid or shy. I was the woman you told me to be.”
“And?”
“I think he liked me anyway.”
Rage thunders through me, rattling my bones as I clutch the door handle tight. As it turns in my death grip, I’m amazed it doesn’t rip off the door. Pushing it closed, I twist the lock and spin on my heel, clenching my hands into fists.
“What makes you think he liked you?” I grit between clenched teeth, but I already know the answer.
Of course Lukas was taken with Ivy. She’s unlike the others. She’s pure. Innocent to our practices and traditions, and it’s beyond refreshing. She’s breathtakingly beautiful and has enough fire and passion flowing through her veins to end this dreadful winter. More than that, she’s not trying to be something she’s not.
Without answering my question, she disappears into the bathroom. The faucet turns on, and a few minutes later she reemerges, holding a glass of water to her lips. She takes a slow sip, then another, and then with a curious gleam in her eye, sets the glass on the bedside table.
“Intuition,” she answers finally with a shrug. “But I don’t know how his interactions went with any of the other pre-shifters so I can’t say for sure that I’ll be the one he chooses.”
The next words need to be spoken, but they threaten to tear me apart. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not true.”
She draws her bottom lip into her mouth. “We talked about liquor and sat in front of the fire. It wasn’t anything like what I expected.”
As a growl rolls through my chest, I pace in front of the windows. Much more of this and I’ll wear a path in the hardwood. But I have to move, to keep blood pumping to my legs rather than my fists. Busting Lukas’s face would feel fucking fantastic, but it wouldn’t get me any closer to finding out who is trying to impersonate and overthrow my grandmother.
Ivy’s not mine.
The thought strikes as hard and true as a bolt of lightning.
When I finally stop pacing and face her, she’s standing near the bed, her knee bent over the mattress, her arm looped around one of the posts. Thinking about what happened between them and imagining them together is plaguing my thoughts and driving me insane. I have to know the details. I have to hear the truth so I won’t imagine the worst.
“Did he try to seduce you?” I ask, striding closer.
“Is that what happened when you were Alpha? Did you seduce every woman who stood in front of you on this night?”
“Sometimes.”
Her mouth falls open as if she hadn’t expected the honesty. “How many?”
“A few, but I didn’t bond with any of them. Not one. What happened was satiating physical needs only.” As if that made things better. From the pained gleam in her eyes, I know my words hurt her. “You of all people should understand the grief I felt when my parents were taken from me. I slipped into a dark void, and it’s a miracle I was able to pull myself out of it. I’m old enough to know now that my sexual habits were a poor attempt at filling some kind of internal void.”
I stop in front of her, searching her face and committing her beauty to memory. Her features are incredibly soft, her lips parting slightly, her eyes glistening with more questions than answers. “My cousin, on the other hand, has chosen to continue with ancient pack tradition, using each January Wolf Moon to handpick the flavor of the month. For a while, I thought he was simply searching for his fated mate, but he’s made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t intend to live with only one woman. He wants whomever he wants, whenever he wants, and from what I hear, he’s aggressive—borderline abusive—and forever changes the women who enter his chamber. And you haven’t answered my question yet.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “Which one was that?
“Did he try to seduce you?”
“Of course he did.”
Fury lurches through my veins, and the wolf inside me threatens to push to the surface. But I hold tight.
Ivy’s not mine.
“And?” I force out in a tight breath.
“And I don’t have to go into any more detail than that.”
I want to burst through this weak human form and roar into the night. My heightened senses overload as they struggle to search out Lukas’s scent on her.
She juts out her chin defiantly. “It’s not like you’re going to tell me everything that happened with every pre-shifter that walked into your chamber. You could’ve had thousands of women and taken them in the garden, the hallway, the kitchen and main hall. You could’ve screwed yourself stupid all over this castle.”
Bitterness laces her tone, and her words hit home.
She doesn’t know how different, how special she is, and it’s bothering her.
“Are you jealous?” I ask, standing so close I have to look down over her.
“What would I have to be jealous about?”
She licks her lips, letting her tongue linger in the corner. The anger that’d been charging through my veins moments before flips to lust, and suddenly all I can think about is sucking on her tongue and licking her gorgeous body from her toes to her tits. The urge to sink deep into her pussy strikes me hard, nearly knocking me to my knees. I want to possess her and claim her as mine and fuck her until she’s covered in my seed and scent so no one can question who she belongs to.
“It’s not like we’re exclusive or something, right?” she fires. “You can screw whoever you want.”
“That’s right. I
can.” Her eyes widen with desire as if she knows what’s coming and wants it, too. Gripping her by the arm, I spin her around and bend her over the bed. She squeals, a tiny sound of delight that feeds my hunger. “I’ve thought of nothing but fucking you from the moment I met you.”
Mad with need, I jerk my pants to my ankles and free my throbbing cock. I lift her cloak, revealing her bare ass, and stroke two fingers through her heat. As she moans, arching back with each swirl of my fingers over her clit, my muscles seize. White-hot tendrils of energy snake through my body and gather at the base of my spine.
I’ve waited too long for this.
Taking my dick in my hand, I stroke from base to the tip, and then slowly slide into her pussy. She cries out, pushing off the mattress as I drive deep, stretching her flesh and filling her completely. But I’m only halfway in. She makes a hissing sound as I pull back and edge forward, deeper, so deep I can feel her walls begin to pulse with pleasure.
“You’re so tight, Ivy.” I can barely speak. I trace her curves with my hands, digging my fingers into her hips, gripping her waist, sliding beneath the cloak to knead her breasts. “So goddamn gorgeous.”
“Reaper,” she moans as I begin to slam my hips against her. Her gasps increase to tiny mewing sounds that warn she’s going to orgasm. “I’m close—God, so close—and you’re—”
Not finished yet.
I slide my dick all the way out and flip her over in one sudden move. She tries to shimmy over the bed, but I snatch her by the leg.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask, sliding her to the edge of the mattress. “Get your ass back here.”
As a grin spreads over her gorgeous face, she splays her legs wide and bares her glistening sex to me. The rich and impossibly sweet scent of her arousal fills my nostrils, and something tugs in my middle.
“Sexy as fuck,” I growl, and sheath myself inside her. She arches back, her hips jerking as she takes me all the way in. The sensations are overwhelming. All-consuming. I can feel every beat of her heart as if it’s my own, and every inhale of air as if it’s filling my own lungs. And in one fleeting moment, I realize I don’t ever want those things to be separated from me again.
Desiring Red (A Dark and Dirty Tale) Page 4
