Wild Things (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance): Shifter Lovers Romance (3 page)

“Not
everyone is like your father. He dotes on his gardens almost as much as he
dotes on you.”

Anacelia
continued working through Senna’s hair with the brush, and Senna tried to be
patient as the woman tugged and pulled at the knots.

“Who
will do my hair if I marry the Ottway?”

“I’m
certain there will be a woman there who knows how to mix henna. It’s not
complicated. Or a secret. And I’m certain there is someone who is better at
hair than the girl who did this to you.”

“Why
can’t you come with me? I should be able to take who I want with me.”

She
met Anacelia’s eyes. They both knew the reason, well,
one
of the
reasons. The Ottway was a powerful man, and a very distrustful one. Senna had
been forbidden to bring anyone from her retinue, either personal servants or
shifters as guards, with her on the train, instead being met by the Ottway’s
own Protectorate and his own band of shifters. It was a slight against her
father, against her.

“This
arrangement...it’s not fair. The man is older than my father!”

Anacelia
remained silent, eyes on her task, working her way through Senna’s hair with
the brush.

“He
eats like a pig. Did I tell you?”

“No,
Senna. You have not.”

“He
drops food on his tunic without apology, and then leaves it there. He tried to
kiss me after dinner, but I just couldn’t. There was food in his beard for
goodness sakes.” She felt slightly childish for saying these things, but she’d
been trying so hard for the last week to act like an adult. She knew she was
sounding like a whiny brat, but it felt good for a moment to act like a child.

There
had been other reasons though for not wanting to kiss the Ottway. He smelled of
hookah smoke and old sweat, although that could have been the onions from
dinner. It was hard to tell the difference. She’d ducked her head, his kiss
landing on her forehead. Then she’d begged off his invitation for a moonlight
stroll through the gardens, retreating to her room. And locking the door behind
her.

“You
will learn, after a while, to excuse a great deal, to ignore even more. And to
look for joy where you can find it. Maybe in children...”

Senna
threw her hands over her ears. “I cannot even...there is no way in heaven or
hell that I will let that man touch me.” She turned suddenly, resting her arm
on the back of the chair. “Tell me again, how you met Bakri.”

Anacelia
let the hand that was holding the brush, fall to her side. “You know the
story...” But she smiled; she always smiled. Senna had been asking for this
story for years. “I was buying fish. This was before you were born, of course.
I worked in the kitchens. And your mother...” Anacelia put her hand on Senna’s
shoulder. “When she was carrying you, your mother loved fresh fish, baked in
salt with lemons and garlic. I’d gone to get the fish and there was a different
man at the fish seller’s cart. I heard him, singing his song, extolling the
freshness of the catch, the size of the fish.”

Senna
watched Anacelia’s eyes, the way her face came alive with the memory. Her heart
ached; she wanted to be able to tell the story of how she met her love to
someone when she was old, to have them see the same love on her face. But her
love was Gabriel, and their love was secret.

“I
bought fish from him. And, as they say, the rest is written in the book of
life.”

“You
fell in love at first sight?”

“He
did. I guess I did as well.” She laughed. “It wasn’t because of the size of his
fish though.”

“Was
it the size of something else?”

“Senna.
For shame.” But Anacelia was laughing, hiding her face briefly, behind her hand.
“I didn’t know...that...then. But he asked me to marry him the next time I went
to buy fish. He took my hand, kissed my fingers, told me how beautiful my
tattoos were. And it was soon after that...” Anacelia hid her face in her hands
again. “You’re making an old woman blush. But yes...it was a very happy wedding
night.”

“I
want that. I want to blush when I’m older, and when I tell the story of my
wedding night.” She turned around, sat back, arms folded across her breasts,
and tried to fight back a pout. But she lost and her lower lip curled. “How can
I do that when my first meeting with the Ottway was so horrible?” For an
instant she thought of telling Anacelia about Gabriel. Anacelia would keep
their secret. Her pout disappeared.

Anacelia
rested her hands on Senna’s shoulders. “My child, I cannot tell you the answer
to that. You are from different world than I am. You have a greater
responsibility...”

“I
don’t want this responsibility! I don’t want to be the pawn that’s shuttled
back and forth, the chess piece that’s supposed to make peace between this
realm and the Ottway’s. I don’t want that to be my legacy.”

Anacelia
leaned down, rested her cheek against Senna’s. In the mirror she could see the
sadness in Anacelia’s eyes. She also saw, as if for the first time, the lines
around her eyes, the gray that streaked her hair. It struck her that there were
precious few days left to spend with the woman.

“I
am sorry, Senna. I am. But we are cast in our lots, in this life. And there is
nothing we can do about it, but keep our chin up, and make the best of what we
have.”

From
the other room, the whistle on the steam heater sputtered to life, rising in
pitch until it was singing loudly. Anacelia kissed the top of Senna’s head,
then quickly bound Senna’s hair in a knot.

“I’ll
draw your bath, and you can soak. Maybe it will take your mind off the Ottway.
You don’t see him again for many weeks?” Anacelia disappeared into the
bathroom, her question lost in the whistling. The sound cut off abruptly,
replaced by the sound of running water.

“Days,
in truth. He has moved the wedding up…I am to go back a week from now. The
wedding is two days later.”

Anacelia
appeared in the doorway, her brow creased. “Oh, Senna. That’s too soon. Even
for an arrangement like this.”

Senna
walked into the bathroom. “Too soon...the end of my life would be too soon.”

The
carved marble bath was full, steam rising gently. Anacelia reached into a
carved jar, and sprinkled a handful of herbs across the surface of the water.
The scent of lavender and chamomile filled the room, with something else that
Senna didn’t know the name of. Anacelia brought it from her home garden, mixing
it with the rest of the herbs.

“Take
your bath. We’ll think no more about the Ottway or marriage tonight. I’ll come
back when you’re finished and see you to sleep.”

“No,
go back to your quarters, to your husband. I’ll take care of myself. I want to
be alone with my thoughts, and then go to sleep.”

“As
you wish. I’ll turn down your bed.” She kissed Senna on the cheek, standing on
tiptoes to do so. “And I’ll take the silks to be mended. It’s no fault of
theirs they are inferior.”

“Only
the man who chose them.”

“And
I’ll send up your dinner.”

She
made a face but Anacelia waved her hand in that way she’d been doing since
Senna was little, brushing aside whatever face Senna made or the objections she
came up with for not doing what she was supposed to do.

“Just
cold foods. You can pick at it, after your bath. And some wine. It will help
you sleep.”

Anacelia
smiled, and bowed, closing the door behind her. Senna slipped out of the white
silk, draping the garment over a chair. Beside that was another silk gown, this
one deep midnight blue, left for her by Anacelia. She smiled and fingered the
fabric. She wanted to plead to her father, to take Anacelia with her to the
Ottway’s palace. But then she knew she couldn’t. Anacelia would never leave her
family, and Senna would never ask her to, even if the Ottway would let her
bring her own servants.

It
was better to just soak in the bath. She’d think about this tomorrow. Or the
next day. Or never.

The
water was hot, and she sank down by degrees, until she was submerged. The scent
of lavender was heady. She breathed deeply, taking it in. She never knew if it
worked by taking deep breaths, or if the magic worked on her skin, seeping in
through her pores, easing her body and her mind. After a while, she didn’t
care. It was magic, pure and simple.

She
tried not to think about the Ottway, but memories popped up. It was easier
here, in the bath, to let those thoughts slide away. She didn’t love him; he
didn’t love her. This was an arranged marriage. A political move, set to
benefit only her father’s realm and the Ottway’s dominion. And, she thought,
the Ottway probably viewed it to his advantage. He’d have her, a young woman in
his bed. It made her skin crawl, and she pushed that thought away. She had
better things to think about.

Gabriel
...he’d come to meet her carriage, to
welcome her home. He’d let her know, in the only way he could, that he’d missed
her. She hoped he could see in her eyes, the brief touch of her hand, how much
she’d missed him. How much she desperately loved him.

She
did have her own story, of how she met her love. But there was no one to tell
it to, except herself. Over and over. And their first—and only—night together.
That she could only replay in her mind.

Now
she did, remembering how he’d come to her, slipping along her balcony while
she’d slept. Coming into her room. He’d stood for a moment, moonlight from the
window making him a dark silhouette. She’d watched, heart beating so fast she
was dizzy, as he’d shed his clothes. She’d pulled back the sheets, and he’d
climbed in with her.

The
things he’d done...she had no words for what they were. All she knew was that, when
he left, she was satisfied in a way she’d never been before. And she’d been a
very happy woman. He’d marked her as his, heart and soul. And then he’d left,
just as silently as he’d arrived. Actually, not completely silently. As he’d
left, he had whispered that he loved her, and she believed him.

The
water was growing cold, the room almost dark, faint candlelight from the
bedroom barely reaching the dark corners of the bath. Reluctantly she got out,
wrapping herself in the robe, the silk clinging to her damp skin. She padded
barefoot through her room, smiling as she saw the tray on the bedside table.
Anacelia had left her a generous plate of figs and cheese, grapes and oranges.
And a bottle of wine. In a minute…but first she wanted to take in the night
air, the view from her balcony. She walked through the arches, past the
curtains billowing softly in the breeze, pulling the few pins that held her
hair up. It fell in soft waves down her back, over her shoulders.

The
breeze molded the silk to her curves. For a moment, she imagined it was
Gabriel’s hands molding to her body, the outline of her full breasts, dipping
into her waist, then out, tracing the roundness of her hips.

The
sun had set, the dark sky streaked with tinges of violet and indigo. The air
was scented with orange and lemon, from the trees in the courtyard below,
tended lovingly by her father, releasing their scents on the night air. She
wondered if the Ottway—she couldn’t make herself call him by his given name,
Venn, only by his title—had citrus. She didn’t believe so. Unless he’d had them
hidden in some secret garden. But she’d seen most of his palace, and there were
no citrus trees in sight, no scent of them on the night air.

The
breeze blew against her skin, made her shiver. The scents were so sweet, so
intoxicating; she closed her eyes and inhaled.

There
was a gentle tug on her hair, the tension pulling her slowly back from the
balcony railing. With eyes closed she let herself be pulled away, into the
shadows. Hands touched her arms, turning her, moving her—and him, because it
was him—further beneath the archway and back into her room.

“I’ve
missed you, Senna. Life is not the same when you are away.”

His
voice was low, like the sound of wind over the dunes. There was something different
in his words, an accent maybe, that she’d not heard when he’d met her carriage
earlier.

She
opened her eyes, tilting her head up to look into his face. He was tall, taller
than her father or anyone at the palace. She loved how delicate she felt in his
arms. How protected. How cherished, and loved.

“I
missed you too, Gabriel.” The words hardly seemed adequate to describe all that
she felt for this gorgeous man.

He
pulled her closer, just close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body
through the damp silk. His hands moved over her arms, lightly,
too
lightly.
She wanted to be crushed against his chest, his arms holding her, his hands
touching her everywhere. But he was gentle, his movements slow.

“You’ll
stay? Not like last time?”

“You
gave word not to be disturbed.” His voice carried a hint of humor. “But I hoped
that didn’t include me.”

She
started to speak, but he bent his head, stopping her words with his lips.
Softly at first, and as she responded, the kiss deepened. His tongue flicked
against her lips and she shivered. He was the first man she’d ever kissed, and
that had only been once before. This was new, still, but she’d had a taste of
what it could be like. To know they had until dawn…it was beyond her wildest
dreams.

Parting
her lips, she met his tongue with hers, fissions of excitement coursing through
her. Something so simple, the touch of his lips, his tongue, how could things
used for speech create such havoc inside her. Impulsively, she threw her arms
around him, standing on tiptoes to pull him closer. She felt his lips curve
into a smile, but he said nothing.

His
arms gradually tightened around her, pulling her against his chest. He was
wearing a tunic and pants, but beneath she could tell he wasn’t wearing his
armor, the armor all shifters wore while in service. It thrilled her to know
there were just a few thin layers of cloth between them.

Gradually,
his hand moved over her back, resting briefly at her waist. She breathed a sigh
against his mouth as he pulled her hips against him, against the space between
his hips. It was impossible not to wiggle against him, to feel the hardness
beneath his pants grow and move, like something alive. Something he had that
was beyond his control, but completely under hers. It was a heady sensation;
one she’d tasted before—
once
—one she wanted to experience again.

Feeling
brave, she let one hand move between them, fingers playing over his tunic, down
the front of his pants. Her fingers brushed against him, just a feather-light
touch. Something dark uncoiled inside her, and she pushed her hand firmly
against him.

For
a moment, he let her touch him, then he broke the kiss, looking down at her,
fingers reaching up to wind through her hair.

“Do
you know what you’re doing, Senna?”

“Yes…”
She felt her face grow warm “No. You know that.”

“I
do.” He kissed her again, palm cupping her cheek. “I know exactly what you
know…and what you don’t.”

She
looked up into his eyes. “Can you show me? We…the other time…the first time
was…”

“The
first time was what?”

“Was
too brief. Over too soon.”

“It
was…” He kissed her, then rested his forehead against hers. “I wanted to stay
with you.”

“You
can…tonight.”

“I
can.” She heard the smile in his voice, the desire that matched hers.

“Then
show me what to do.”

She
reached out and took his hand, pulling him toward her bed. It was turned down,
the white sheets cool-looking and inviting. It thrilled her beyond belief that
they had the whole night to spend there, to be alone. For him to do things…her
to do things…

“You’re
very assertive tonight.” He let her pull him toward the bed. “I like this new
you.”

She
spun around, her silk robe falling open, brazen and uninhibited. “I want to
know this…
you
…before I can’t any longer. Before it’s too late.”

A
breeze blew through her room, setting the candles flickering, playing with the
opening of her robe. There was no need to go further with that thought. They
both knew what the stakes were, but she didn’t need to hear him say the words
out loud. It would shatter the spell, the magic.

“I’m
here, with you, for you…now, Senna. You know that.”

She
reached out, fingers brushing against his arm. “I know. And I love you for it.”

He
took a step toward her, the light catching his eyes. They were dark, darker
than she could remember them ever being. When he touched her arm, she shivered.
The robe slipped from her shoulder and she let it fall, wanting to let it fall
to the floor. But she caught it with a startled breath, holding it against her
breasts.

“Let
me…”

Gabriel
reached out, tugging the robe out of her fingers. It was easier to let him take
the lead, to gently pull the robe away from her. It slipped further down,
exposing one breast.

“As
round and full as the moon.” He touched her, softly, slowly, tracing the curve
of her breast, fingers coming to rest on her nipple. With exquisite tenderness
he pinched her, rolling the hard little nub between his fingers.

“Oh…”
The sensation was somewhere beyond pleasure, just short of pain. “Oh…my.” Her
breath went fast and shallow, and she ran her tongue over her lower lip.

“Like
a rosebud against cream.”

“Like
a thorn grazing the skin.”

“Does
it hurt?” His voice was lazy, and it didn’t seem to matter to him if her answer
was yes or no. Something unfurled inside her, something dark and strange, but
wonderful all the same. She’d never felt anything like this. But she wanted to
feel it again.

“Yes.”
She breathed out the word. “Harder.”

He
smiled, something almost cruel in the lift of his lips. Cruel, but seductive.
He increased the pressure of his fingers, pinching harder. She gasped, arching
her back, a trembling thrill running through her. Almost immediately, she felt
a clenching deep inside; movement beyond her control making her hips jerk
forward, her stomach contract. It was like someone had dropped a rock in a deep
pool; ripples spreading, the rock hitting bottom with a solid weight. She
blinked in surprise.

“You
like that, yes?”

“Yes.
Very much.” Her words came out as a breathless whisper.

“The
pain? Or the orgasm?”

She
blinked again. “What?”

“You
are so obvious in your desires, and in your responses. That…” He flattened his
hand, palming her breast, fingers splayed over her skin. The hardened nipple
pressed against his hand, the sensation different, softer, but still utterly
amazing.

“That
was an orgasm, Senna…you’ve had them before with me.”

“Oh…”
Her face grew warm. “I…you did that to me before, yes, I know.”

“Before,
yes.” He smiled. “Let’s see what else makes you come.”

He
squeezed her breast. With amazement, she watched as he leaned forward, his dark
head coming closer, bending to her. His tongue flicked over her other nipple,
and the ripples that had subsided grew, strengthened.

For
a moment, he held her like this, one hand caressing her, his tongue sliding
over her other puckered nipple. It was impossible not to touch him, not to run
her fingers through his hair. It was loose around his shoulders and she was
mesmerized by the silky feel, the length, the curls.

She
pulled him closer, wanting more. Whatever more meant. He complied, forming his
lips around her diamond-hard nipple, pulling her into his mouth. Sucking,
gently, so very gently. A jolt like a lightning bolt raced through her,
bringing alive places inside her she never knew existed. As if sensing it, his
hand tightened onto her other breast.

But
the gentleness was momentary. Gabriel sucked harder, pulling her sensitive
nipple into his mouth, then more of her breast. The lightning strike turned
into a raging storm, jolts shooting through her as he sucked, harder and faster,
almost greedily, his other hand tensing over, and over, on her breast.

She
was helpless in his grasp, her hips moving, slowly forward, over and over. She
wanted something, her body wanted something. But she didn’t know how to ask for
it, didn’t have the words to know what it was.

But
Gabriel knew. He took his hand away from her breast, slid down her stomach,
fingers playing briefly over her skin. Then lower, teasing over the places deep
inside that were coming alive. Then his fingers dipped between her legs. She
shuddered as he touched her, as he slid his fingers further into her. Rubbed
and circled, over and over. Her body shook, her knees threatening to give way
under the onslaught of his mouth and tongue and fingers.

“Oh,
Gods…Gabriel…” She grabbed his hair with both hands, fingers tightening,
clenched, pulling.

Then
it happened again. She cried out, head back, body bending like a tree in the
wind, moving beneath Gabriel’s hands. Then it was too much, too overwhelming.
She pulled harder at his hair, tugging, trying to back away from him.