Aftermath (6 page)

She looked up at him, a wariness on her face he did not care to see.

“What are you doing about so late this eve?”

“Thinking.” She turned her head and swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks, no doubt thinking to hide them from him.

“Think inside. ‘Tis not safe for you to be about this late.” Lifting her chin, she glared at him. “I am not a child and will not be treated as a prisoner. I will do whatever I wish and go wherever I need to go.”

Did she have to argue about everything? “You should not be out wandering alone.”

“Where I live I do not have to worry about wandering the forests alone at night. Surely I am safe enough here behind the walls of the castle.”

“You well know the wizards can mount an attack, walls notwithstanding.”

“I do not fear the wizards.”

“You should.”

She laughed. “I have as powerful a magic as they do. I can protect myself.” A pounding hammered at his temples and he inhaled a breath of air to quell the pain in his head. “Your magic will not protect you. I, however, can. Now come along and go to your room.” He bent down and reached for her wrist, pulling her upright. Her hands hit his chest with a hard thud.

“You are human and I can best you. You have no power over me, or the wizards. Believe me, I can protect myself better than you can protect me.”

The impudent chit! How dare she insult his honor? Clasping his arm around her waist, he drew her hard against him, ignoring the feel of her soft breasts pressing against his chest. In an instant the sharp point of his sword rested just beneath her left breast.

“You would be dead by now if I had a mind to kill. Faerie or not, you have just been bested by a human. Now tell me again how you would protect yourself against the wizards if you cannot even hold your own against a mere human?”

Golden eyes blinked back at him, desire turning them molten and soft. “I will cast a magical spell upon you to render you immobile, then slip right out of your grasp,” she countered. Yet she didn’t push away.

Her heartbeat pumped madly against his chest. He inhaled the sweet flowery smell of her. Her mouth was only inches from his, her lips parted, her breath like the panting of an animal that had been chased and cornered.

“Go ahead. Cast your magic upon me, little faerie.” Only he was no longer sure what he meant. Aye, he wanted her magic, but a different kind than what they spoke of on the surface. He wanted the magic deep within the feminine part of her, and he wanted it to belong to him.

Only to him.

The hard evidence of Braedon’s desire pressed against Trista’s lower belly, igniting a fire within her she could no longer control. Her befuddled mind recalled her words of casting a spell on him, but the only magic she wanted to perform right now was releasing his cock from the tight confines of his breeches and feeling the thick shaft embedded deep in her throbbing pussy.

“Do it, Trista,” he said, his voice sounding harsh, yet filled with sensual promise.

“Do what?”

“Perform your magic on me. Cast your spell upon me.” Swallowing hard, she did the only thing she could think of doing. Pushing against his chest, she released her arms and wound them around his neck, giving in to the need that burned insistently throughout her body. “I would prefer you cast your magic upon me, Braedon.” Storm clouds darkened his eyes and he gave her a look so intense it made her legs tremble. He gripped her tightly, removing his sword from between them and jamming it into the ground. He stared at her for a few long seconds, then with a harsh whispered oath, he claimed her mouth.

At the first touch of his lips to hers, she exploded, releasing pheromones that filled the air with the scent of her desire, enveloping them both in a cloud of faerie dust. Braedon groaned and pulled her closer, digging his fingers into the flesh of her hips and rocking his erection against her.

His lips, though soft and full, ravaged hers with insistence. He plunged his tongue between the seam of her lips and found hers, tangling and teasing her with furious strokes that spoke of passion and need. She could not get close enough to the heat and hard planes of his body to satisfy her desire to meld completely with him. Every touch, every kiss, made her whimper with desperation. She lifted up on her toes and rocked against his erection, feeling wanton, like a wild animal, caged and desperate for release.

But she cared not for repercussions right now. She was right where she wanted, needed to be.

She moved her hands freely over his body, from his neck to his shoulders, sliding her arms around his back so she could press her breasts tighter against the hard planes of his chest. Was it possible to crawl deep inside someone, to feel them to their very soul? She had not expected this type of reaction to Braedon’s touch, yet it felt right, as if she had found where she belonged.

Silly girl. He does not even want to keep you. He is all about duty and not love. This is sex.

A part of her realized the consequences of what she was doing, but she could not have stopped herself from wanting Braedon right now any more than she could prevent the moon from rising tonight. An all-consuming need had taken over and would not be denied.

Braedon tore his lips from hers and moved to her throat, his tongue swiping along the column of her neck. Goose bumps prickled along her skin, centering on her sex and pounding away with an ache that made her whimper and tremble.

But she was not the only one trembling. She felt the tremors in Braedon’s arms, shocked to discover he was not as unaffected as she would have assumed. She pulled back and searched his face. The hot intensity of his gaze seared her.

“I want to be inside you, faerie,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and deep.

Words of response would not come to her, so lost in her senses as she was. She could only nod her assent.

“But not here. I do not wish to be disturbed, nor do I want anyone interrupting us. Sheath your wings.” She did, immediately. Swooping her into his arms, he carried her through the gardens and courtyard, his stride deliberate and brisk. She smiled when he waved off the guards at the gate who hurried toward him.

They halted immediately and returned to their posts.

He was not taking her outside the castle. He stepped through the darkened forest and into D’Naathian land, taking the same route she had taken toward the pools yesterday. She held tight to him and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling safe and comfortable for the first time since she had arrived at Greenbriar.

And wanted. This feeling of having a man want her was indescribable. She had never expected to feel desire for her betrothed, especially considering the way he normally treated her. Yet she felt an underlying current of equal need from Braedon, as if he typically did not allow anyone to get this close to him. She felt strangely privileged to be wanted by him.

They arrived at the pools and he set her down on the bank very near where she lay last night. He stood over her, his erection visible against his dark breeches.

“Do you know why I brought you here?” he asked.

She nodded. “I knew you watched me yesterday.”

He arched a brow. “Did you now? And did you touch yourself as you did to entertain me?”

“Nay. I did so to entertain myself. ‘Twas merely an enhancement to my own pleasure to know you watched.”

Flames licked her sex at the look of hunger on his face.

“You amaze me, Trista. At times you are like a spoiled child, yet at others you act like a woman. A very desirable woman.”

She ignored the spoiled child reference. The thought of keeping him off balance intrigued her. Perhaps that was a good thing. “I am who I am, Braedon, and I make no apologies for it. I simply know what I want and I am unafraid of asking for it.”

“Then ask for it.”

She knew what he meant. He wanted to hear the words from her and by all that was magic she wanted to tell him. “Make love to me.”

He reached down and pulled her to her feet, crushing his mouth against hers, driving his tongue past her parted lips and tasting her, taking her, making her mindless with desire. One hand held her against him, the other moved over her body, stroking her back, her hips, moving forward along her rib cage and settling over her breast. She gasped into his mouth as he pulled the bodice of her shift down, exposing her breasts to his questing fingers.

An explosion of sensation shot to her core as he found one nipple and flicked it back and forth with the tip of his finger. Gently, softly—it drove her mad. The bud hardened and she pressed her breast fully against his hand, wordlessly demanding more of the sweet torture.

But he pushed her back, his breath coming in heaving gasps. Stunned, she wondered what had changed.

His face was contorted almost in pain, his hands balling into fists as he held them rigidly by his side.

What was wrong?

“Undress, my faerie. And make it quick or I will rip the clothing from your body. I cannot wait a moment longer to feel you naked against me.”

Braedon’s breath caught at the look of innocent desire on Trista’s face. So many emotions, unguarded, evidenced her lack of experience in dealing with men. Both curiosity and desire melded together to pinken her cheeks and darken her eyes until they glittered like the golden flecks of her skin.

Her innocence appealed to him more than it should. A woman’s virtue brought problems. Problems he had neither the time nor the desire to deal with. Not when so much was at stake with the wizards. Yet he found himself strangely compelled to taste his betrothed’s innocence, to take what she so willingly offered.

He would wager anything that Trista was filled with undiscovered passion. He could not help but want to be the one man, the only man, to tap into her desires.

Wanting her now was wrong. Custom dictated he wait until their wedding night to take her, but he could not make himself walk away from her. Her beauty, her innocence, even her devilish demeanor all served to bewitch him until he could not control his lust for her. What did it matter if he took her now or in less than a month when they were wed? ‘Twas merely ceremony he was violating by taking her now. By rights she was already his.

Any indecision on his part fled when she began to untie the laces of her bodice, letting it fall to her waist just as he had watched last night. The moon’s light intensified the golden flecks embedded within her skin and she sparkled like a bright star. Even her nipples were golden. Being this close—so much closer than he had been last eve, made his mouth water for a taste of her. But he waited until she finished undressing.

As she stood naked before him he had a most difficult time determining which part of her he wanted to place his mouth on first. Her full lips, her luscious nipples or between her legs, where a small patch of sable and golden curls hid her feminine treasure.

Making a mental note to go slowly with her, he stepped forward, reining in his instinct to grab her and ravage her on the spot. Instead, he reached out and traced the lines of her face from her jaw to her soft neck, then over her collarbone and between her breasts.

She sucked in a breath, the action thrusting her breasts forward in silent invitation. They hardened to soft peaks and he was mesmerized as if she had bewitched him with a magic spell.

Yes, that is where he wanted his mouth. He pulled her into his arms and leaned her over his arm, capturing one stiff peak between his lips. Her fingers entwined in his hair when he pulled the bud into his mouth, pressing it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Her taste was as sweet as her scent, arousing him until his cock throbbed against his breeches. A broken cry escaped her lips when he scraped the nipple against his teeth, tugging at it until she shuddered.

This is what he knew he would find within Trista. An all-consuming fire that threatened to douse him in its flames. And he wanted more, wanted to add more timber until she burned them both out of control.

Because control was his life, what he held onto every single day. Right now he wanted to let go of the demons that ruled him and let insanity take over. What better place to set the wildness within him free than here with Trista?

She was his and he would take her however he wanted.

He released his hold on her nipple, staring at the wet gold for a few brief seconds, then laved the other with his tongue, this time watching as it sprung up tight, hard and glistening with moisture. Flickers of golden dust filled the air around him and he searched Trista’s face for the answer.

“When I am aroused I release my pheromones. They are meant to capture you under my spell,” she said, a half smile gracing her beautiful face.

Captured indeed, and powerless to control himself. Dropping to his knees, he caressed her hips, enjoying the silken feel of her skin against his rough hands. He glanced up to find her gaze trained on him, studying his movements. Was she aware of this aspect of lovemaking? Did she know how to please a man with her mouth? His cock lurched at the image of Trista wrapping her lush lips around his shaft and sucking him until he exploded.

He had much to teach her about lovemaking between a man and a woman. The thought surprised him, as it was only a day or so ago he was convinced he would use her only to create heirs. Now he wanted to take his time with her, linger within her arms and pleasure her until she cried her ecstasy into the night.

Then he wanted to teach her to please him, take hours, days, months playing with her body and teaching her all the ways she could do the same to him.

Refusing to dwell on the whys of his change of heart, he focused instead on the tempting curls between her legs.

“Spread your legs apart, faerie,” he commanded. “Let me see your beautiful cunt.” Her legs trembled as she widened her stance, allowing him a view of plump pussy lips and the sweet pearl of her pleasure peeking out from its pink hood. Moisture glittered along the folds of her sex, tantalizing him with the sweet, musky scent of her arousal. The heady fragrance was irresistible. Unable to wait a moment longer, he leaned in and pressed his nose against her mound, letting the silken hair there tickle his face. So soft, her scent so unbearably arousing he feared jettisoning his come right there.