by Vyne, Amanda
“Katya.” His voice was soft, cajoling. It made her want to kick him. Hard. “I did what I thought was best. There are circumstances that you’re not aware of – ”
“And look how great that turned out,” she snapped, cutting him off.
A muscle in his cheek ticked, and she glanced at it in fascination. He was angry. A little spark of light flashed in the black expanse of his pupil, and she wondered curiously that it happened so often lately. It had happened before but only rarely. It was a Drachon thing, but she wasn’t sure what exactly it meant. She did know it came when he was angry.
Well, that was too damn bad. She was angry too. She’d spent most of her life trying to conform to what her uncle expected. She’d denied her true self for fear of the stigma. Terrified that she would be taken away and—guess what?—she’d ended up in a damn secret lab being experimented on anyway. Her hands started to shake, and her heart pounded.
She was so done. Done with allowing other people to decide who she was. What made her angry was that she was just as responsible as they were. She’d let them all make her decisions.
“You’re right. It turned out fucked up. And somebody will pay for what you went through. I promise you that.” His voice sent a tremor across her flesh. After what she’d seen him do at the lab, she didn’t doubt his words. “I’ll take care of you better from now on.”
“I don’t want to be taken care of, Raife,” Katya said; inside she wanted to scream. The last time she’d done it, things lit on fire. She needed some distance to calm herself. She felt like a train wreck. She knew she was one more word away from totally shattering. God, she hated to think what she might look like. “You know what. I don’t want to do this right now.”
Turning on her heel, she walked slowly back to the large bathroom with the huge tile shower and shut the door. He didn’t follow her, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Or if she even wanted to know for sure which it was. Hell, she was so confused.
So she did what she always did, put some emotional distance between herself and her life as she started the shower and undressed, discarding those hideous scrubs on the tile floor. Hiding from herself was a skill she’d developed as a child. One that she’d perfected in the last few months.
But standing in front of a mirror that spanned the entire wall, she got her first good look at herself in months, and she flinched. Her foremost instinct was to turn away and slide beneath the hot spray of water filling the room with steam. She wanted to just push it back and ignore it, but something held her there. It made her take the good look fate was offering her before the glass fogged.
With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and looked. Hard. Something was different. It shadowed every new angle of her slimmer body. Darkened the depths of her pale blue eyes. It was in the wild disarray of her white blonde hair. She just didn’t know what it was. She didn’t even know who that person looking back at her was.
God, she felt empty. Alone. Devastated.
She didn’t have a home. No family. Nowhere to go. No money. Once she’d graduated from Caltech and started developing security software for companies, her uncle had handled all the money and contacts. He’d always taken care of her. If she ever needed anything, all she had to do was ask for it, and it was hers.
But she couldn’t trust her uncle. Or her House. That left her with nothing.
Nothing.
Glancing down at the simple cotton scrubs pooled at her feet, she realized she didn’t have clean clothes to put on. She didn’t even have a pair of clean panties to her name.
Her breath left her in one silent burst, and she gripped the edge of the marble countertop as the realization ripped through her body and mind.
She’d done this to herself. Allowed everyone…her uncle, Raife, the elders of her House, all of them had made the decisions in her life. And she’d let them. She was an intelligent, educated woman, and yet she’d weakly let them make all the important decisions. The knowledge of that hurt.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she let her head drop back to gaze up as the thick fingers of steam curled slowly against the ceiling. She could lie to herself and say she’d been happy letting everyone else deal with the details of life, but the truth was she hadn’t been. She’d always felt incomplete, as though the most important part of her was missing. How many times had she locked herself in her bathroom at home, let it fill with steam, and cried until she felt hollow? She’d stopped crying months ago, but she didn’t need tears to feel hollow anymore. She was hollow.
There was a soft snick as the door slid open, and Raife’s large frame filled the doorway. The tendrils of steam spun and twisted as he pulled it closed behind him; a cool draft of air curled around her bare ankles.
“I can hardly handle your pain, baby.”
Katya swallowed and blinked. She could see his form in the foggy mirror. His chest and feet were bare, and his faded jeans hung low on his hips. A heart-pounding longing twisted through her like those wisps of steam.
A laugh slipped past her lips, and she closed her eyes. She’d craved him in one way or another her entire life. Out of all of her weaknesses, he was the strongest. Especially now when she was barely holding her world up on tired legs. She wanted his arms to close around her. She wanted to feel the comforting timbre of his voice in her head assuring her everything would be fine. She wanted it so much that her body trembled with it. But she was afraid. Afraid to trust him. Afraid to trust herself.
Turning her head, she met his deep amber eyes. Her knuckles went white with her grip on the countertop. Breathing out harshly, she opened her mind to him.
“I’m afraid.” The admission felt ragged and torn, and it ripped away the last of her strength. But she needed him to be on her side now. She needed to trust him. She just needed him.
“I’m here with you, baby.”
She didn’t see him move, but his arms were suddenly around her, turning her to hold her against his chest. And God, he felt so good, so solid. Could she take the chance on him? For a long moment, she stood stiffly in his embrace, and then her resolve broke and she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her fingers bit into the hard muscles of his back as her body trembled so hard she thought she was going to shatter after all. Those wide, calloused palms moved slowly up and down her back, his lips whispering nonsense words of reassurance into her hair.
God, please don’t let him hurt me again.
“I won’t, baby.” He tightened his arms around her and pressed his lips to her temple. She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud, or maybe she hadn’t. His mind was tightly aligned to hers, surrounding her. He rocked her for long minutes, and he felt as raw as she did.
“Let’s get you into the shower and into clean clothes. I had Kel buy you some new stuff,” he soothed and guided her over the lip of the shower stall. It was wide and deep, set with half walls, tiled in peaceful aqua colors. With gentle hands, he maneuvered her beneath the hot spray and swept her hair back away from her face. On the far wall of the stall was an inset towel warmer, and he pulled out a washcloth and soaped it up.
Katya watched his tawny eyes darken as he concentrated on washing her from head to toe, even conditioning her hair. All in his jeans. Inside her, something eased. Inhaling the warm steamy musk of him, she ran her hands down his chest, pausing to trace the four raised scars she’d put there all those months ago.
His eyes glowed with hunger and some other deeper emotion as he stood perfectly still beneath her exploration. She smoothed her palm across the dragon tattoo. Glancing up at his face, she ran her fingers down the flat expanse of his belly, and the muscles jumped beneath her touch. His eyes slid closed when her fingers moved to the waistband of his jeans. One big hand covered hers, stopping her fingers.
Katya pressed a kiss to those long scars, and his big body trembled beneath her touch.
“We don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Her eyes met his through the fringe of her lashes.
“Please. I need you.”
Chapter Twelve
Katya felt dwarfed by him as he stood over her, the depth of his gaze intense as he searched her face. She could feel his indecision casting shadows around the edges of his thoughts. He didn’t want to take advantage of her while she was so vulnerable, but he craved the intimacy as much as she. His hesitancy made her more determined, and she filled her mind with her need for him.
“I need you too, baby.” Raife sighed and reached up to push her hair back from her face and stroke the curve of her cheek. He pressed his lips to hers in a long, chaste kiss and then stepped away to turn off the water and retrieved a towel. “Let’s get you dry.”
She would have laughed at the distinct sloshing noise as his sopping jeans made contact with the equally wet tile of the built-in bench. She felt too bruised for laughter, but humor lightened the edges of her hunger for him, and he cast her a disgruntled look as he gently buffed her dry.
He stood and quickly discarded the wet jeans. Katya’s eyes dropped to that part of him straining long and thick against his flat stomach. He was big, the dark, swollen tip coming nearly to his belly button, and a little tremor of delicious trepidation racked her body. They’d done this before during the mating heat, but then she’d been under the fiery influence of the instinct to mate him. This time, she wanted to be aware, to revel in each touch. She didn’t want it to be a blur of desperation and hunger when she tried to recall it tomorrow morning.
Unable to resist, she touched the tip of him, and the whole length jerked, a tiny glistening drop of moisture easing from the slit at the end. He was so soft and yet so hard all at the same time. A sense of wonder filled her as she smoothed her finger over the tip again. It was slick and hot. What would he taste like?
Katya licked her lips at the thought, and Raife lifted her up in his arms with a growl.
“Not this time, kitten. I wouldn’t last a minute if you put those lips on me.”
Katya was floating. It felt like she was glowing from the inside out, her entire body pulsing with a bright craving. She felt a sense of true ease she hadn’t felt in longer than she could remember. Air moved slow and heavy through her lungs. The tension and fear was gone. She felt…safe.
Raife carried her to that huge bed in the suite’s one and only bedroom, his arousal and intent practically glimmering in the air around them. His chest was solid and warm beneath her cheek. Instinctively her mind had merged with him to connect to his thoughts.
He was consumed with images of her on her knees in front of him, taking the length of him into her mouth. Her throat. His need clawed through her, heightening her own. Her lips throbbed with the vivid impression in his mind. She longed to know what he would taste like.
Turning her face against his skin, she tasted him with a tentative swipe of her tongue. He tasted warm and salty on her lips, like she imagined the sun might taste. His breath shuddered in his chest, and she rubbed her cheek over the hard muscle, feeling the slight ridges of those scars beneath her face. Pressing her lips to them, she ran her tongue down one raised edge.
A fractured image flashed violently through her mind, bringing with it a sense of fierce satisfaction and the scent of blood. Her gums began to throb as the phantom scent curled through her.
The cool comforter on the bed soothed her back as he laid her down and hovered over her. She reached up to trace a long welt. In the dim interior of the room, she could make out the dark relief of the dragon tattoo on the other side. The scratches and the tattoo somehow felt sacred to her.
“Why?”
His eyes were backlit with his desire as he leaned closer to her, the thick length of brown hair framing his angular face. A small smile tilted his full lips and they brushed over hers, his breath mingling with hers. It felt so intimate, so connected.
“A mark of feminine possession.” His words were a heated caress in her mind as he lowered his torso so that the smooth and firm expanse of flesh brushed lightly over her nipples even as he ran his tongue over her lips.
Her breath burst from her, and he inhaled as though capturing a part of her, some piece of her that sought him.
“Possession?” The question sounded breathless, and she spread her legs, raising her knees to cradle him as he held himself suspended above her, bracing a hand on either side of her shoulders.
“It’s a mark of pride. Of strength and worthiness.” His tongue traced her lips, and a heated shiver worked its way through her body to settle between her thighs. “Long ago, Drachon were a warrior race. A chosen female would challenge her male to determine his worthiness. The females were strong, and they demanded their mates be stronger.” He flattened his large palm over her hand where she stroked the long scratches. “The scratches were a sign of acceptance, of surrender.”
His tongue flicked her top lip before delving into the depths of her mouth, demanding yet tender. He pulled at her, devoured her, and her body responded in kind.
He was so hot and wide as his hips rocked between her raised knees, the silken tip of him caressing gently through her swollen labia, brushing against her sensitive clit. Back and forth until the pulse of blood between her legs rivaled that of her heart.
Breathing heavier, she tried to resist squirming beneath him. “And the tattoo?”
His lips twitched against her as he ate at her mouth, stealing her breath and her sanity with each nip.
“Mmm, much more complicated. Every adult male is given one. It’s a reflection of his daemos.”
The tremors ripped through her belly, making her legs tremble as he patiently stroked the tip of his cock through the slick folds of her pussy. Back and forth. Achingly slow. It felt incredible, but it only heightened her anticipation, the pressure too light to build the pleasure simmering inside her.
“Daemos?” The sharp edge of expectation sliced through her as he subjected her to another sweeping caress. She struggled to search her memory for her education in languages. “Demon spirit?”
His chuckle fanned the inside of her mouth, and she tentatively met his tongue with hers. “Older than that. It referred to an inner spark, a part of the soul reflecting in the eyes.”
“That flash of light in your eyes.” Katya gasped as his lips brushed across her cheek, his tongue moving in a slow circle behind her ear. A shiver worked its way over her as he continued to rub the heated tip of his shaft through her moist folds, teasing. She raised her knees higher and braced her feet on the bed, pushing her hips up to him, seeking a deeper caress.
“Easy, kitten. We’re going to take this nice and slow.” The thought burned a frustrating path through her body.
With a wicked smile, he continued his explanation. “Yes. The daemos. When a male Drachon hits sexual maturity, he is taken by his family’s mantis in search of his daemos. Kind of a spiritual journey. The mantis sees into him, sees his dragon spirit, and draws it on his skin. It’s a rite of passage.” As he whispered the explanation against the shell of her ear, his hips continued to press against hers, sending tremors rushing through her.
Katya smoothed a hand over the head of the dragon. “A mantis?” It came out a little raspier than she anticipated, but his slow, unhurried caresses shook her from the inside out. They made her feel cherished.
He pushed himself up, his smile knowing, and leaned in closer to brush his lips across her cheeks, her chin, her eyes. “A mantis is a spirit leader, a spiritual prophet. Drachon are very spiritual.”
Katya traced the lines of the serpent-like dragon, feeling the heat of his skin beneath her fingers. The dark lines were vibrant, almost alive. “It’s beautiful.”
He leaned up again and gazed down at her breasts, an unnatural brightness to his eyes. “Ah, Katya. You are perfect. So sweet. Mine.”
His voice was guttural, and it drew over her flesh with a delicious abrasion; her nipples peaked with a current of sensation.
His rumble of pleasure filled the space between them as he moved his hands to her hips and pulled her to th
e edge of the bed. The drag of the silky comforter at her back was cool and smooth, and she rolled her head in pleasure, bracing her feet on the mattress.
His large hands smoothed over her belly, so warm, roaming down into the spot where her legs joined her hips. A pressure swirled deep inside her as his gaze strayed over her body laid out before him, until he stared intently down at the aching flesh between his hands. His thumbs parted her, and he rocked the velvety tip of his cock over her exposed clit again.
“Raife.” His name was a demand, a plea.
“So beautiful.” He watched with heated intent as he stroked her with his cock again. She couldn’t look away from his face, shadowed in the dim room, deeply lined with harsh desire. It made it so much more intimate, so raw. As though in anticipation, her muscles spasmed around the aching emptiness in her.
“Do you feel empty, Katya? Needy?”
Her chest tightened, her breasts feeling fuller; she could only nod.
“Only I can fix that for you, baby. Only I can give you what you need.” The crest of his cock pressed just inside her opening, and her hips lifted as a gasp escaped her parted lips. His head fell back with a thick groan, and she admired the tendons in his neck with fascination, drawn to the frantic flickering of his pulse. She wanted to feel his pleasure, to taste it, wanted it buffeting hers, filling her.
She was starved for it, and it terrified her.
“God, Kat, you’re so hot. You’re scalding me.” He pressed in another inch before stopping, his forehead dropping to her breastbone. His damp hair felt cool against the heated skin of her breasts, almost erotic in the contrast.
It was excruciating, this wait, when her body was screaming for him to burn her with his possession. Sliding her hands up to his shoulders, she flexed her nails against the damp skin, and his hips jerked, his breath fanning hot against the peak of her breast.
“Please, Raife.”
“No.” His tongue darted out to touch the tip. “Slow. We are going to do this nice and slow. You are not alone. You are cherished, baby. And before I let you sleep, you will know it.”
