Raven Mask (7 page)

“Yes.” I shuddered as her lips found the side of my breast.

“Yes?”

The warmth of her breath against my nipple made my body tighten. She traced me with her tongue, as slowly and intricately as she had traced the pentacle scar on my sternum. “Yes.” I moaned, trying to remember the conversation. She cupped my other breast in her hand, thumb circling the sensitive skin, matching the slow luxurious strokes of her velvety tongue. I moaned again as she caught my nipple between her teeth.

My pulse beat between my legs like a trapped hummingbird.

Lenorre’s eyes burned brighter with power, and the breath caught in my throat.

“Lay down.”

When Lenorre lowered herself on top of me I touched her shoulder with a hand. “No,” I said, “I want you on the other side of me. On your back.”

The amused expression didn’t leave her face as she gracefully rolled onto her back. “Like so?”

I held myself above her on hands and knees. “Yes.” I nuzzled my face in the bend of her neck, burying myself in the ebony curls of her hair. She smelled of cool night air, as if I could smell a frosty breeze on a cold winter night, but mingling with that smell was my scent, the scent of wolf, earthy like musk and pine. I drew the skin of her neck lightly between my teeth and she made a small pleased sound.

I pressed my mouth against the pulse in her neck, feeling it beat like a bird pounding its wings between my jaws. Strangely, at times she had no heartbeat at all, and others, it was there. Did vampires have an on-and-off switch or something? Did it beat when they were well-fed? I traced the vein in her neck with my tongue. I could’ve bitten her, could’ve called some of the wolf to my aid and driven canines into her skin, but though blood was a delicious and sweet candy even to the wolf, it was not substantial food.

Besides, werewolf saliva isn’t like vampire saliva. Vampire saliva has an anticlotting enzyme in it called Draculin. I shit you not, that’s what it’s called. It’s the same anticoagulant vampire bats inject into their victims. It keeps the blood flowing steadily while the vampire is drinking. Their saliva, much like a vampire bat’s, keeps the red blood cells from sticking together and the veins from constricting. How do I know this? Vampire-bat saliva has been used in genetically engineered drugs to help stroke and heart-attack victims. Werewolf saliva just isn’t that nifty. Scientists might’ve been brave enough to take on a vampire bat, but I didn’t think they would dare follow an actual vampire around with a spit cup just to see if their saliva could work medical wonders.

“Kassandra.”

“Hmm?”

“What are you thinking about?”

I sat back on my heels and started untying the sash of her robe.

“Vampire saliva,” I said, watching her lips part seductively.

Her eyes sparkled. “You’re thinking about my saliva?”

“Well, yes and no. The anticoagulant in your saliva, to be precise.” Yeah, like that made it sound any better. Romantic, that’s me. “Why did it feel so good when you bit me?”

Lenorre moved, allowing the robe to fall open. My gaze went from her face to her pale breasts with their soft pink nipples.

“Skill.”

“What?” My wits were scrambled by the beauty of her body and the scent of her desire.

I saw her hand moving out of my peripheral vision and caught it, keeping her from slipping it between my legs. “Would you stop trying to distract me?” I gave her a push on the shoulder. “Lay back down.”

She did what I asked. “Kassandra, there are few areas in which your mind is easily distracted.”

“You’re implying the bedroom is one of those?”

“Yes.”

My fingers found the sash and I started pulling it free. Lenorre raised her dark brows as I caught her wrists in my hands, pushing them toward the head of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Her voice lilted with amusement. But I wasn’t going for that.

“Making sure you can’t distract me.”

I looped the tie around the black wooden beam. She let me do it, remaining passive while I tied the silken shackles.

Her passivity broke and before I could move she rose, licking a wet line between my breasts.

“Even bound,” she murmured against my skin, “I assure you, I can distract you.”

I lowered myself until our naked bodies touched completely. “I think it’s time I do the distracting, not you.”

A pleased sound escaped her as my breasts slid over hers. I shuddered, feeling her nipples harden against my skin, and slid low enough to kiss her breasts.

Lenorre sighed my name and I looked up, rolling her nipple lightly between my teeth. Her head fell back with a soft moan and she tugged gently at her bonds. If she wanted to, she could snap them. Hell, she could snap the bed in half. Being in complete control was solely an illusion.

I grazed the edge of my teeth across her breast, kissing her, taking her into my mouth and sucking. I licked and nipped my way down her body, settling between her legs.

Lenorre draped her legs over my shoulders and I wrapped my arms around them, using my grip to pull her closer to my mouth. I placed a chaste kiss on the inside of her thigh, leaving kisses until I found the hollow between her thigh and groin. I flicked my tongue against that sensitive area and was rewarded with a longer moan. I brushed my lips across her sex, turning my face to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. This time, it was not a chaste kiss. I drew the skin into my mouth, tucking it between my teeth, careful not to cross the line from pleasure and pain to absolute pain. I ran my left hand over her hip, over the slope of her groin, tracing the hot, wet slit between her legs. Her thighs blossomed like a night-blooming flower opening to the seductive glow of the moon.

I wrapped my arms around her thighs, using them as an anchor. I could smell her, cool and immaculate, like the first sprinkling of hoarfrost on a cold winter night.

Gazing up the length of her porcelain body I realized her fingers were working at the knot at her wrists. While I’d been trying to distract her, she’d been busy. She gave me a challenging look as the silken material fell from one wrist.

Obviously, I hadn’t been distracting her well enough.

I dug my nails into her thighs and her back arched. “No,” I said.

Lenorre laughed, her voice shaky with pleasure. “I will get out of them eventu—” I pressed my mouth between her legs.

“Kassandra.”

I sealed my lips over her, sucking her clit into my mouth. Her hips rose and my pace quickened. I gave myself to her, losing thought of anything but the way she felt in my mouth and her desire coating my lips. The world narrowed to my tongue dancing over her hot flesh and to her moans filling the room like music.

Her muscles tensed beneath my hand and I sucked harder.

“Kassandra.” She moaned my name again.

The sight of Lenorre throwing her head back in pleasure almost undid me. Passion drove me as I pushed her to the edge. The sound of her pleasure filled my ears, sweet and encouraging. Lenorre moaned, going rigid under my touch.

Then I moaned, the sound muffled against her. My hands tensed, nails digging into the skin of her thighs. An invisible pleasure built unexpectedly at the base of my spine and spilled through me. I tore my mouth from Lenorre and cried out.

Chapter Eight

Everything was hazy as I tried to breathe past the pulse thundering against the side of my neck. Lenorre seemed to be doing the same. I rested against her thigh, and she met my gaze with a light and breathless laugh.

“What?” I panted.

“You.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“You look so…spent.”

I drew a deep breath. “What the hell was that?”

“Wondrous,” she said, falling back on the pillows. “Exciting. What is the term they use nowadays? Mind-blowing?”

“Yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Your orgasm?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Projection,” she said.

“You pushed your orgasm onto me?”

“Yes.” Her expression was damn near mischievous.

“I’ve heard of people projecting,” I said, “but never of someone projecting an orgasm.”

“You’ve been amongst the humans too long, Kassandra.”

To that, I didn’t know what to say, except, “I need a bath.”

A shower was out of the question. One, I didn’t feel like standing up. Two, I wasn’t sure I could.

“So do I.” Something about the way she said it sounded suggestive.

“Oh, no.” I sat up. “No more. After last night, and this afternoon…” Thinking about last night, I looked and, sure enough, I’d torn her mattress all to hell again. The first time I’d torn the mattress apart was when the beast was trying to rip through my skin. It was also the first time I’d shifted into a bird.

I gave Lenorre an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. Did you have to replace the last one?”

“The last mattress? Yes.”

“Lenorre, I’m—”

“Kassandra, do not worry about it.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “Besides,” she smiled like a lazy cat, “that is not the only thing you tore.”

My hands were still on her thighs. Confusion made me furrow my brows. A moment later, something warm trickled over my hands. I flicked my gaze to Lenorre’s thigh. I’d lost myself to a moment of passion, and when the orgasm had shaken my body into pure oblivion I had cut her. The blood was very bright against the stark white of her skin, but the wounds were already beginning to heal. I stared for several moments, wanting to run my tongue across those scratches. It wasn’t entirely the wolf’s desire that motivated me, although the scent of fresh blood was making the wolf pace, disturbed by the fact that it was Lenorre bleeding but wanting a taste nonetheless.

I shook the thought away.

“Kassandra,” she mused, “if I was so afraid of your nails, I would’ve asked you to cut them before we went to bed.”

I hadn’t cut her with my claws, but with my human nails. Not a lot of women in law enforcement have long nails. In fact, for obvious reasons, not many lesbians that I know have long nails either. Maybe it had to do with being a werewolf. I was used to having that defense and felt naked without it. But if I did this kind of damage with them, I could hurt someone I cared about in human form or in wolf form. Thoughts of what I could accidentally do to Lenorre during a moment of passion overwhelmed me. I started to draw away.

Lenorre untied the knot at her wrist with quick, light movements. She stood, holding the robe closed around her glorious body. “We should bathe.”

“We?” I called after her.

She turned on her heel, arching a smooth dark brow in my direction. The look in her eyes told me she’d already made up her mind.

I raised my hands. “Fine.”

The corner of her mouth quirked in subtle amusement. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so bad.

Chapter Nine

The bath hadn’t exactly cleared my mind, but the coffee Rosalin had made did the trick. At least as much as it would. I could still smell the scent of Lenorre’s skin like some heady perfume.

Rosalin was watching me from her perch on the small bar.

“You look,” she tilted her head to the side, “unusually relaxed…”

“Unusually relaxed?”

“Yeah. You’re not holding your shoulders as stiffly.”

Rosalin was a werewolf, and our kind pay attention to body language. It didn’t shock me that she’d noticed the subtle change. I’d have spotted it in her.

“I told you when we first met you needed a good shagging. Looks like I was right.”

I almost spit out the sip of coffee I’d taken. “Rosalin…”

She shrugged, rinsing her mug out in the sink and putting it in the dishwasher. “I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed it wasn’t my doing.”

“Rosalin…”

She waved a hand in the air, absentmindedly. “I know, I know. I’m not hurt.” She laughed. “My ego is just a little bruised.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be,” I said, remembering what had transpired between us. “You were,” I searched for the word, “persuasive.”

“Please.” She practically snorted the word, pushing the auburn locks out of her face. “You just hadn’t ever had sex with another lykos.”

I nodded. “There is that.”

Lenorre walked into the kitchen wearing a pair of tight black pants tucked into knee-high leather boots. The blouse she wore was a metallic silver far lighter than the color of her eyes. The collar and cuffs were folded neatly. She had tucked the shirt into the pants, so that it showed the slim perfection of her waist. The entire outfit accentuated her height and made me think of the word “slinky.” The few top buttons on the blouse were left undone, but modestly so, just enough to tantalize and tease. My heart raced at the sight of her.

Rosalin shook her head, catching my attention.

“What?” I asked her.

“Ah,
amore
,” she said breathily, touching her hand to her heart.

“I don’t like to be teased.”

“I’m not teasing,” she grinned, “just pointing out the obvious.”