Finally, Garrett pulled away. “You love me?”
“Yes,” it came out in a little panting gush.
“Say it again?”
“I love you Garrett.” He kissed her and pulled her back up, crushing her breasts against his chest and moving to cover her with his body.
“Shit sorry I...,” he tried to move off her.
“How many times do I have to keep telling you I’m fine?” She pulled him back and kissed him again. “Have you had any strange premonitions lately?” She whispered against his lips somewhere in mid-kiss.
“Not a single one.” He ground his hard cock between her parted thighs and she couldn’t help but moan.
“I enjoyed that by the way. I’m not in any pain. No premonitions at all?”
“Nope,” he pulled back. His eyes were hooded, “I think it might just be safe to keep going unless you’re not feeling up to it?”
“I am absolutely fine and in fact we need to make one hundred percent sure I’m still in control, and as a Demon Chaser it’s your duty to be sure. Oh and Garrett…”
“Yeah?”
“This whole Evelyn thing…”
Garrett pulled back, his face serious, “Yeah.”
“…well, I predict that you’ll have to work extremely hard to make it up to me.”
Garrett smiled, “Anything you say honey.”
Brice lifted herself up and took off her hospital gown. He helped her pull her sweats off. His jeans were unsnapped and in a crumpled heap on the floor in mere seconds.
****
Garrett had meant what he said. Aside from loving the woman in his arms with all that he was, he would do anything for her. Had been willing to die to save her, and would take the risk again if it came to that. The words his mother had said, so profound he had tattooed them on himself had never been truer. He now knew what he lived for. Garrett would never be unfaithful to Brice, just like the air that he breathed, she was part of what he needed to sustain him and no one else would do.
Garrett caged her with his body. “I love you.” He nudged into her opening.
“You,” her eyes glazed over as he entered her, “too.”
“You feel so good. I’m afraid I don’t have much self-control.” He slid out pushing back in all the while biting back a groan.
Brice clenched her pussy muscles and he almost lost it. “We’ll go slow next time. I don’t need much.” She was panting. He kept moving trying to keep it slow. Trying to keep himself from coming before her. Brice dug her fingers into his shoulders. “Please…oh god…please…”
“What do you need?” As he spoke, he slipped his hand between them. He zoned in on her clit, strumming her tight knot in a way that had her crying out.
“Yes, Garrett…just like that…oh yes…harder, please faster…I can take it I promise.”
It looked like his sweet, innocent little hybrid liked to take charge and ask for what she wanted. It turned him on. Garrett pushed a little harder, not wanting to hurt her.
“More Garrett… please… I’m fine.”
“Like this?” He rammed into her over and over again, never letting up on her clit.
Brice screamed his name and her hot, tight sheath pulsated around his cock. That was all he needed to take him over the edge. Staring into her golden, glowing eyes his body jerked with the most powerful orgasm he had ever had. Garrett eventually collapsed over her, careful not to crush her.
“Oh my.” Her head was cradled in the crook of his shoulder.
“You could say that again.”
“That was amazing…I may never walk again.”
That wrung a laugh out of him. “Don’t worry, I’ll carry you everywhere. Just promise we get to do that often and my arms are all yours.”
“Oh yes, but right now I’m hungry.”
Reluctantly, he pulled out of her, his cock was still mostly erect. Nearly ready for another round. Brice sat up, her hair a wild tangle and her cheeks flushed. Lucky did not even begin to describe how he felt right now. She looked down at his dick, which still refused to go down, and licked her lips. He hardened up a whole lot more under her keen observations.
“When I said hungry, I meant hungry for meat.”
“I have meat.”
Her focus was still solely on his cock. “Yeah, but not the kind you find in the refrigerator.” She moved towards him.
As hard as he tried not to, he felt himself flinch.
Her eyebrows went up, “You’re still afraid of me?”
“You do realize that your eyes were glowing and that your teeth turned sharp a few seconds ago, just a single row but sharp Brice.”
She leaned down, her hair trailing along his thigh. “Do you trust me?”
“Not with my dick in your mouth, otherwise yes I do.” Damn this inability to lie when she asked him a direct question. Omission was one thing. Skirting the truth seemed possible, but a direct question was impossible every time.
Brice looked up at him through thick lashes. “But you’re going to let me do this anyways. Right?” she waggled her eyebrows at him.
Garrett smiled, “Yes I am. I love you. Our future sex life is in your hands… make that your mouth.”
She giggled, “I’ll be careful.”
Brice’s scent was of crisp, fresh bamboo shoots but she still smelled of power, like the aroma of an impending thunderstorm. Although she was mostly in control, he realized that there was a darker side to her that intrigued him. It would keep him guessing, keep him coming back for more.
Brice took his cock into her mouth and he felt the unmistakable brush of a sharp fang against his sensitive flesh. A cold sweat broke out on his brow and a shiver ran up his spine. His fear heightened his pleasure as she pulled back to lick his head. He threaded his fingers through her hair. As scared shitless as what he was in this moment, he couldn’t help but pull her in closer. Bee took him deeper, this time her fangs almost cut into him. The feeling was so close to pain he cried out. Pleasure coursed through him, it caused his balls to tighten and heat to sear his veins.
“Bee…,” he had to warn her.
She took him deep again, right into the back of her throat and the sight was almost enough to send him over the edge, so he used his other hand to pull her away.
“Bee honey. I don’t want to burn you.”
“I’m your mate.” She licked at his head and he had to fight to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his skull. “You can’t burn me.”
She closed her raspberry lips over the head of his cock and sucked softly before sliding down the full length of him. Her sharp teeth against his sensitive flesh had to be the most erotic thing he had ever felt. When she grabbed hold of his balls and kneaded them, it was game over. He roared her name as he came, the feeling rolling through him with each languid stroke. Garrett jerked with the aftermath of his orgasm.
He knew for certain in that moment that no other woman would ever be able to make him feel this way. This is how it would always be with Brice, and Garrett couldn’t wait to spend forever with her.
THE END
Bear Prince
By
Emma Alisyn
CHAPTER ONE
A taste of freedom was worth the price of evading his guards. Stealing a few precious moments to himself in a foreign land where he blended into a sea of people as long as he dressed down and kept to himself? He’d deal with his mother’s temper later.
He watched everything, everyone, as he wandered the streets of downtown, a little amused at his own wonder. Casakraine didn’t have cities with towers of glass and cement, soaring high into the skyline. Their architecture was just as old, just as beautiful... but lower to the ground. Not quite as tempting to Mother Nature to tear down in retaliation for such arrogance. Wasn’t there a story in the human holy book about a tower?
Andrei halted, gaze caught, spending a few precious minutes observing a beautiful young dancer on a busy street c
orner, moving with the grace of a Fae princess, oblivious of the traffic around her. Her limbs long and toned, nearly Bear-like strength evident in the perceived effortlessness of her movements. She’d confined her long black curls in a simple tail at her nape, smooth bistre skin bared by a neutral camisole and dancer’s shorts. Watching her eased the pain gathering behind his eyes, signaling the start of another migraine. He wondered if the dancer paid for her beauty and grace with some physical defect, the way he paid for his shifts with blinding headaches.
Her dancing should have been… provocative. Her lush form, though athletic, was still bountiful. Andrei knew from listening to his mother and sister speak over the years that ballerinas with bodies outside the stick-thin model norms worked harder for acceptance. But there was an innocence in her movements, as if she wasn’t quite yet awake to the true potential of her body. The potential for pleasure, for joy.
People walked around him on the street, some giving him irritated glances. True, he hadn’t picked an out of the way spot to stop and stare at her- he’d simply stopped. So people glanced, but kept moving. The anonymity was a blessing to Prince Andrei, the eldest, the Heir. The one with no life outside duty. His mother called him the moment his guards must have reported his defection.
“Andrei,” she snapped. “What are you doing? Your guards have a job to do. You have to stop this.”
“Mother, if only you could see what I’m seeing right now,” he replied, gaze trained on the dancer as if she would disappear if he blinked. “I’m going to send you a video.”
He disconnected the call, swiped to the camera, and began recording. Watched her through the screen for several minutes and then sent the video clip to the Queen’s cell. He didn’t have to wait long.
“The dancing is beautiful, but unless she’s your mate, I want you to come back to the hotel now.”
He snorted.
Izobelle paused. “Get the girl’s information, if you please. If she isn’t already in formal training, she should be.”
Trust his mother to see the whole thing from the lens of her pet project- which was why he was accompanying her here in Chicago. To kick off a new foreign exchange student program at a prestigious university in the city with a strong Fine Arts department. Selected students would receive full scholarships to study in his country, and vice versa.
Watching the dancer, he idly imagined that she was his mate. Andrei smiled, wry. If he brought home a human ballerina his mother would either be ecstatic to add a dancer’s genes to the bloodline, or horrified. Strength, beauty, poise, grace... he could do far worse.
***
Hannah danced. An early evening breeze against her skin reminded her she was all but naked, in public. Her mother would be irritated. Hannah pushed the thought away. Her body was an instrument, a vehicle for her art- not an object of shame.
People stopped to watch. She ignored them, mostly. Her instructor told her she had to stop turning inward when she danced- it was a flaw. She should dance outward, invite her audience to share her emotions. Hannah tried, but she was so used to pulling into herself, escaping into the power of her dreams that she struggled to break the habit. Even now, when she was months free of the confines of her rural, technology-free community.
A man crossed the street, eyes trained on her. She noticed because he walked with a dancer’s grace and a tourist’s foolishness, as if the cars would pass right through him. Hannah admired his bravery and was flattered, though wary, to be the object of his focus. Fending off one creep on a daily basis was enough. Life in the city had scoured some of the naiveté off her- but she knew she still smelled like small town girl.
Hannah met pale eyes briefly. He was a few feet too far for her to tell what color they were- just that they weren’t like hers, dark as earth after a good rain. She watched a smile curved lips thinner than she was used to, and though she couldn’t quite smile back, she hoped he saw the gratitude in her dance when he dropped a folded bill into her open gym bag. She tried not to look at the offerings before she was done each evening- she didn’t want discouragement to seep into her performance. There were days she made enough to eat over the weekend, there were days she came home with enough to buy a candy bar. It all depended on the mood of the crowd.
“You dance like the wind,” he said when her steps brought her a little closer.
Hannah slowed her movements, told herself it was good to interact with patrons sometimes.
“I’m heavier than wind,” she replied, practical.
He smiled. “You don’t move like it.”
A lilt of some place not America threaded through his words, bringing music to the quiet tenor of his voice.
“I train very hard to make it look easy.”
“Where do you train?”
She lowered her eyes. Was he… flirting? Hannah knew she had to protect herself from men who thought dancer meant exotic. But she was being silly. If he enjoyed dance, of course he would be curious where she trained.
“Loyola,” she said, moving back into her place to begin another set.
“What’s your name?”
Such an innocent question. She glanced at him, met patient eyes. Studied the face with even, sculpted features that could only be described as classically beautiful. Dark hair and a stern mouth- but somehow a warmth reached out and set her at ease. Maybe it was silly not to be more cautious- just because he was tall and handsome and spoke without the uncouth brashness she’d grown used to in men her age, didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Too much authority in the broad set of his shoulders. Strength in the tall body. But...
“Hannah.”
His head lowered in acknowledgment. He watched her for a few more minutes. Every once in a while she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, distracted. Something about his focus, an aura of utter confidence drew her out of herself. And he stood so still, not even the breeze ruffling through his dark hair. After a while he crossed the street again and she forced herself to forget him. To just dance. Feel the burn of muscle telling her it was time to either be done for the evening or push past the discomfort to earn a few more dollars. To train a few more minutes on this harsh public stage. Endure the pain, tap into the energy she pulled from… wherever. The earth, God, her own inner fire. Wherever it came from, it fed her limbs when they wanted to collapse. Fed her spirit when it wanted to bend. She wouldn’t make the break from her family be worth nothing.
***
If he turned off the cell, it would make his mother go bat shit crazy. Ahhh… the colorful phrases he’d picked up here in America. The best souvenirs. So he put the ringer on silent and watched the young woman dance some more, even as bursts of light in his vision warned him he should head back to the hotel. He pushed away the pain.
He’d moved away to give her space, sensing her unease at his proximity. The distance disturbed him, as if he were chilled to the bone but moving away from the warmth of a fire. Hannah was both older and younger than he’d expected, her eyes somber, a gravity one didn’t often find in college students. But when she spoke, her voice matched her movements, simultaneously innocent and sensual. She glanced at him every once in a while, her attention gossamer light but it burned through him with a fire he recognized as desire. Once he stopped admiring her as a piece of art, and began to imagine her as just a woman- well, Andrei had to yank his imagination away from where it was going. It felt… disrespectful of her, somehow.
It was dark when she stilled, bending over to scoop up the duffel bag in which several bills fluttered. A paltry take compared to what could be had by buskers in his capital. Americans- what was wrong with them? No one seemed to appreciate beauty, or to want to support it with anything more substantial than clapping.
Andrei checked his phone out of morbid curiosity- yes. Over a dozen missed calls from Constin, ostensibly his head of security for this trip. And a text from his mother, asking if he’d gotten the girl’s contact information. His brow rose. Mother was ser
ious about the dancer then.
He glanced up in time to see the woman walking towards a bus. He cursed, running across traffic to catch the one right behind hers. He’d learned they stacked busses at rush hour- lucky for him. They were the same number, so he assumed they were going on the same route. He stood near the front, watching each stop through the wide glass windows to see when the dancer got off. Thanks to his mother for providing him with the excuse he needed- because he’d already come to a decision before watching her walk away. Women like her were rare- he wanted to know more, see if the magic he glimpsed under the surface was real, or just his wishful, fanciful thinking.
It became apparent after a good thirty minutes that she was traveling to a less wealthy part of town. Which made sense- even with a scholarship, a student wouldn’t be able to afford the rent downtown unless her parents were well off. He was lucky another passenger pulled the rope to get off at the same time he saw Hannah emerge- he would have missed her.
Exiting, he looked around, realizing he’d come to a part of town that would piss his guards off. And all because he was pursuing- not stalking- a beautiful young woman as if she were his missing Cinderella- or mate. Andrei sighed. Well, had he really expected to get through the week without making at least one impulsive decision? His own inner restlessness had warned him days ago he was on the verge of doing something... untoward.
He hoped Hannah might not think it odd of him to follow her. She didn’t know him, after all- certainly had no clue he was a Prince out on a freedom jaunt. It would be awkward if the woman he wanted didn’t want him back.
***
Hannah walked fast and kept her eyes open. This wasn’t the best part of the city, and it wasn’t the worst. No matter where a single woman went at night, it would be dangerous. If she were hurt, Hannah knew she wouldn’t be able to go home. Her parents would tell her any bad experience was a consequence of disobedience, a consequence of being a part of the ungodly world rather than staying safe in the community, away from technology and decadence. Hannah didn’t want technology or decadence, she just wanted to dance.
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