by Billi Jean
Her gaze turned slumberous as if she desired just that. His cock jerked, leaking more pre-cum. He held on, controlling himself.
“I will be demanding,” he warned. “I will want you often.”
“Good, now, take me to bed, or do we make love standing?” She tilted her head as if she wondered, and again he was slapped in the face by her innocence.
“In bed.” He shifted her to the bed, under him. “First, I want to see you.”
But when he lifted up to part his shirt from her body, she halted him with a hand on his. Worry clouded her eyes. He recalled how she had been treated by Christian and what the man had said to her. It was unfathomable to him, but he sensed she feared this.
“Isobel,” he said gently, feeling a warmth so deep he knew from this moment on he would never be without it. Love. I love her. “You are more beautiful to me than anything on this earth. You were then, when I first realized you were mine, and you are now. I waited then, thinking you too young, but I cannot wait now. Angel, I need you. I need to see you. To know I am the only man to ever see you and the only man who will ever see you.”
At his rough words her fear eased and she slowly smiled. Reaching up, she then caressed his face. Cupping his jaw, she gently pulled on him until he lowered his head. “I was made for you. A bonded pair is made for the other. I am yours, Bryson.”
“As I am yours,” he assured her.
Gently, as to not scare her, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her with all the love he felt building in his heart. ‘You are my love, my life, Isobel. I will be careful.’
‘I know. I want you, oh how I hope I do not disappoint you, though.’
At her words he drew up surprised and sat back on his haunches She watched him, her eyes bright with excitement he hoped, more than fear. Slowly, he slipped the shirt she wore open and down her slender shoulders, revealing her little by little. She took his breath away, then returned it with such force words spilled from him. “Isobel, my heart, you stun me. You are beauty. Not I, not this warrior’s body.”
He gestured to his scarred chest then touched her delicate shoulder and dared to caress his fingers down between her breasts. The pinkness of her nipples was magnificent, the round areoles large and begging to be sucked, licked, kissed. The womanly curves of her body made his mouth water, the soft but firm line of her stomach enchanted him, while the lush mound of her sex shocked his senses triggering a full body recognition that this—woman—this person was his other half. His cock was made for her pussy. His masculine body the opposite fit to her feminine one.
“You are mine.”
At his growl, his cheeks grew warm, but Isobel laughed merrily and hugged him around the neck which drew her smaller body flush with his. Relieved he’d not insulted her, instead made her happy again, he held her body as tightly as he dared.
“I am yours. And you are mine. Perhaps we are the perfect fit, one half of each other,” she said, mirroring his thoughts. “I want you. Now, please.”
He choked on a laugh and took her hands off his boxers. “These stay on. Let me prepare you.”
“What does this mean, prepare me?”
Wincing, he settled her back on the bed and lay next to her, resting his hand on his head so he could admire every inch of her. “You need to be ready for me,” he whispered, feeling such a deep emotion for her he could barely get the words out.
“You are not small,” she agreed, eyeing the bulging erection pushing against his boxers.
“True, but I believe you will enjoy that.”
Her gaze floated up his body to his face. She smiled and sighed. “I believe so too.”
His smile grew and he bent to kiss her on the rise of her breast at the same time he settled his hand on her stomach and caressed upward then back down to her sex. “You have such soft skin here, Isobel.”
“I do?” She sounded breathless, and, from her, he could scent her growing need. He felt it too. The ache to give and take. For the exchange of blood and sex, and hot, pumping thrusts of his cock in her hot, tight pussy.
“Yes, you’re silky soft.”
“I am? Is that…good?” She gasped when he dipped a finger along her clit.
“It is very good,” he growled, slipping his fingers deeper over her sex and cupping her there possessively.
“Oh!” She clenched her legs on his hand, but he allowed it, massaging her as tenderly as possible.
“If you open your thighs, I can show you more of how good it is. Do you like this?”
She was kissing his shoulder and arm but when he asked her she drew his head up and kissed him passionately. ‘I love it. Do not stop.’
‘Open your thighs, then, my heart, let me touch you deeper.’
She relaxed her legs a little. He sent her warmth and praise through their bond. Her mouth was eager, following his and learning as he deepened the kiss to something wild and wet. Each stroke of his tongue he matched with the slide of his finger over her sex until her heat was liquid and she was lifting her hips for more. Only then did he slip one finger past her entrance and hold it there.
“Oh!”
At her gasp, he growled into her neck. She was tight. More, she was soft and wet. He could just imagine her around his cock, sucking him in and holding his aching erection. He delved deeper, then back out, taking her mouth again to imitate his fingers. She grabbed handfuls of his hair and lifted her hips with little moans into his mouth. Her fangs sharpened. His did as well. With a shudder, she nicked his lip and they shared a blood kiss. His cock pulsed so hard he worried he’d be unable to keep from tossing her down and entering her. He held back, but just barely. His balls protested, aching as if he’d taken a direct hit there. Isobel didn’t seem to care, she pulled his erection free and stroked him perfectly. He increased his pace, rolling his palm over her mound as he slipped another finger in, easier this time than the first.
“I want you. Take me, Bryson.”
Had anything ever been sweeter? The look in her eyes, the trust there, and the desire did odd things to him. He slowed down and, swallowing sharply, rose above her. Carefully, he aligned his cock to her sex, easing the head forward until the tip was encased in her sheath. Watching her face, he fed her more, waiting for a sign of discomfort. His cock was so hard he didn’t have to guide it but kept his hand on the shaft to stop from bucking forward. He could sense her wanting him, not just his cock, but his blood.
“Wait, wait until I am inside you, then we will share our blood.” He fed her more of his shaft, taking his time so his girth didn’t tear her but sank in slowly so she stretched around him.
“More, oh, Bryson, please, I can’t take it much longer. I need you!”
Even in the midst of such passion, he could barely think, she ordered him around. He kissed her lips, sucking on her bottom one and soothed her with a deeper thrust.
“Trust me, I need you too. But we have to go slow.” He took measure of how far they’d gotten and swallowed. Only the head had made it inside, but he didn’t dare go faster. Sweat poured from him, his arms trembled, but she had such a tight clamp on him he was forced to ease out and back in, working slowly to let her grow familiar with him. Gotta go slow. Gotta stay focused. Think on her. Want to have sex for the rest of the night. That means going slow now, then once I’m in, stay in.
The plan was brilliant. It would have worked, too, he thought, until she began moaning and thrashing her head, clearly growing close to an orgasm. She’s going to come on my cock. Can’t come. Cannot join her. Cannot move a muscle. Almost immediately, as he reminded himself of the rules, she cried out his name and began climaxing. When she did, she sank her fangs into his pectoral.
His mind went blank. Sweat poured from him. His balls drew up hard, tingling in preparation for ejaculating. Can’t move. Cannot thrust. Cannot move. She broke her bite and cried out his name, bursting into another climax as he fought to hold on to his control. Each tightening of her pussy cinched on his sensitive head. Every gasp and shudde
r rippled up his body and circled back down to his balls.
“Isobel!” He pulled free, frantic not to hurt her, and angled the head along her sex to rub over her clit. The friction was all he needed. He caught his breath. Her skin was so soft there, so smooth, and she gyrated under him, so clearly lost in her passion, he knew he was seconds behind. Just thrust, just sink in, end this agony and fill her with my seed.
No! Can’t harm her.
“Bite me. Take from me.” His voice sounded rough, too harsh. “Isobel, I need you.”
She whimpered but licked along his chest.
The buildup was painful. His body tensed like a bowstring ready to let lose a volley of arrows. “Now, Now!” he shouted, fisting his hands in the sheets instead of around her shapely hips.
She bit down. Her fangs pierced deep. The moment they did, his orgasm ignited. He shouted her name. Head back, body tense, he pulsed jet after jet of hot semen onto her stomach until he was rutting over her, head by her shoulder and pressing his cock as tightly to her heat as he could get. It continued until his toes curled, and he had to fall on her as the last of his strength vanished. Only then did he lower his head and turn it, to lick along her neck. His fangs dropped, her light moan and shift of her thigh up along his was invitation enough. He bit her. Rich, exquisite blood exploded along his taste buds.
Isobel sobbed his name and scored his back with her nails, demanding more. “Bryson, oh, please! I need you, now. Oh, please!”
‘No, not yet. Not now. Need to slow.’ His body tensed, tightened, and with a rush of pleasure he pulled up, only to seek out her soft breast and bite down on it. Again she sobbed his name in pleasure. Again, her taste exploded in his mouth.
‘Yes, oh, Bryson, it’s so good, it’s so good.’
He couldn’t respond, could only feel the rush to climax again and the punch of his release as he pinned her down and savored her body and blood. Mine. She’s mine at last.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Isobel drew a labored breath even as Bryson twisted and turned them, moving her on top of him. He was sweaty and slick with exertion, hot with the wild things he’d been doing to her. It was stunning, more so because he wrapped his hands around her waist, splayed his fingers wide on her bottom and began pumping upward. He still refused to take her, to claim her.
“Bryson, you will not harm me. We were meant to share our bodies. I want you inside me,” she urged.
“We have eternity—”
“Bryson!” She stared at him in amazement. He gave her a roguish grin. She blinked. A sudden thought surfaced. “You are teasing me?”
“Yes.” The answer was coupled with him nuzzling her breasts and flicked each with his fangs. Bursts of pleasure tingled up and down her body. “Isobel, my love, come for me again.” He spoke to her in languages long since forgotten. Her heart grew full, even as he began driving her to another release. He was relentless. And she loved it. “Once more, come for me.”
She sobbed into his shoulder as her body clenched, and within heartbeats she flew again.
Bryson shouted her name, tensing under her, then with a curse he began shaking and coming, heating her stomach again with his seed as he gritted his teeth and groaned repeatedly. Exhausted, but never feeling more alive, she kissed his jaw and chest, his neck and temple, then his mouth as he opened it to catch his breath, still lost to his pleasurable moans.
“You are mine, all of you,” she whispered into his ear, feeling him shudder harder. His shaft still flexed and heated her skin with his seed. “I will never let you go.”
“Isobel,” he grated, pressing his head into the crook of her neck and holding her tighter. He trembled for a long while but the aftershocks were gratifying to him, she knew. It made her feel strong and powerful.
“You have pleased me beyond my wildest dreams.”
She peered down at him. He wore such a well-sated male smile of satisfaction she felt another blossom of contentment fill her heart. He looked so different. Happy, she decided.
“I did nothing. You were the one,” she reminded him, kissing his jaw. “Why did you not claim me?”
He laughed, which made her gasp because she perched on top of him. “I claimed you, Isobel. I simply want to go slow.”
“Ah, I see. But you have not made love to me.”
“I have, I have just not taken your virginity completely.”
“Ah, I see. So now you will?”
“No, now we will sleep.”
“We will sleep?” She could sleep now, she realized. But his behavior baffled her. She surveyed the warm tones of the room. It was rustic, little more than a cabin hidden away deep in a pine forest. But she liked it. Even the colors soothed her. It would be a safe place, a warm, secluded home for them. “We will sleep in here?”
“Yes.” He rolled her to the side and kissed her quickly then lifted away to get up.
Nervous suddenly, she sat up but was only in time to get another kiss from him as he took a seat next to her. The bulge of his arm and chest muscles tantalized her, but she refused to be distracted and caught his hand. “What are you doing?”
He brushed a warm, wet cloth over her stomach but stopped when she caught his wrist. He quirked an eyebrow. “Would you rather a shower?”
“I thought… I thought we would sleep then perhaps make love. For real this time.”
He bent his head until he was a breath away. “We made love for real,” he murmured against her lips. She couldn’t help how her body responded or how she wrapped her arms around his neck. His skin was so smooth, so toned and rippling with power she sighed.
Bryson pulled up all too soon. “But I think I like the way your mind works. After we shower and rest.” She would have argued, but he covered her lips with his finger, a smile twinkling in his eyes. “Rowan might need us, Isobel. I want to be bonded to you so I can always find you.”
For some reason, his words hit her wrong. Instead of holding her thoughts, she asked, “Is that the only reason?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I will love you forever, Isobel. I want you in my heart, where I can keep you safe. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I would know what it is like to join our bodies, and our minds.”
She didn’t disagree but for some reason she hesitated. It wasn’t him. She knew she’d never choose another over him. She also knew he would always hold her above all others. But…
If something happens to me, he can move on. If we bond…he will be unable to.
“Do you doubt me? Still?” he asked.
Not wanting him to think such a thing she opened her mouth, but his alarms vibrated between them. Instantly Bryson turned from sexy lover to warrior. His gaze turned cold and a chill rose from his skin. She moved to rise, but Bryson caught her hand to still her. “That could be Jaxon. He is the only person that knows of this home.”
“Or Faolan.” She sent her mind out but encountered no one. “I cannot tell. Can you?”
His gaze grew distant then clouded as he focused back on her. “It is not Jaxon.” He cupped her nape, drawing her close. “It is Aidan.”
At his words, a chill raced along her skin. She pulled away. He let her, but with such reluctance she worried he had planned to try to flee. She dressed herself, cleaning her body with a thought and quickly braided her hair as well while he sat across from her, watching her with an unfathomable expression. Within seconds she was presentable, as was Bryson, but her heart raced all the same.
Will Aidan believe me innocent? Does Bryson?
“Steady.” Bryson caught her arm. “Aidan will not harm you.”
She held her tongue, not willing to voice her opinion.
A moment passed before Bryson, expression grave, led her from the room and out to meet the man who had already ordered her death once.
Bryson had known fear in his life. In some battles to survive he had to have fear spurring him on when anger died out. The fear of survival. Now, as he walked ahead of the woman who held his heart, he experienc
ed a rush of it so deep he paused at the door, suddenly unwilling to open his home to his king.
“Bryson, I will be fine. He will listen to you.” Isobel had shut him out. He could still sense her feelings— sadness mixed with worry—but he couldn’t mind-speak her.
He reached for the door and opened it. Aidan stood waiting, his bonded missing from his side. Not a good sign. Neither was the scowl lining his face. At six-four, Aidan was solid, packed muscle, and the strongest and fastest swordsman Bryson had ever faced.
“Aidan.”
Eyes the color of glacier ice, and just as merciless, locked onto his. “So it’s true.”
“It is. Isobel is my bonded. She is innocent of the charges—”
Aidan held up a hand. “Enough. How do you know she is yours?”
Bryson fought back the rage building in his chest. “I know as you know Allie is yours.”
“How long have you known?”
“Over six hundred and eighty centuries, before she was accused of—”
“Why did you never speak of it?”
Bryson clenched his fists. This was Aidan at his worst. Never a man to hold back his thoughts, nor his anger, Aidan was difficult. If not impossible to move on from something he thought. Allie had worked on soothing those sharp edges, but Aidan never let anyone betray him—twice.
“She is my bonded. I have read Christian’s mind. He was one of the members of the council who found her guilty. He killed your father, Aidan. They killed your father, not Isobel. Think about it. How could one young Vampire kill Aaron?”
Aidan’s silver eyes darkened to mercury. Never a good sign. “Invite me in, Bryson.”
“Not until you give your word you will not harm her, or order another to do so.”
“Bryson.” Isobel stepped out from his shadow.
“No,” he growled. “He stays out until he gives me his oath,” he told her. Turning to Aidan, he crossed his arms. They were of the same height. If it came to a fight, he knew they would both be bloodied. “If you are here to listen, you will have no issue with such a request.”
