Chapter Fifteen
When Morgan felt Sidonie’s mouth close over him, the breath left his lungs. A few minutes ago, he had been convinced she would repudiate him.
To go from that to this raw, frank sensuality was shocking, exhilarating.
He stared as the complex muscles in her mouth tightened on him. His entire personal experience with her had been through touch, scent, and the sound of her voice. He had only ever seen her when she was onstage, or in digital images on his phone.
He had known her bone structure would be as slender and graceful as her hands and wrists, but seeing the wings of her shoulder blades, the long curve of her neck, and the champagne-glass shape of her beautiful breasts was quite a different thing from imagining them. Her nipples were a deep, rosy pink and jutted from the round, creamy mounds of flesh. He longed to take them in his mouth, to stroke and tease them.
She licked at him gently. The velvet glide of her tongue over the sensitive skin at the head of his cock made him stiffen further.
“Stop,” he said huskily, stroking her cheek.
Immediately, she pulled back, her elegant eyes darkening. “What’s wrong?” she asked, the tip of her tongue licking at her lower lip.
She was stunning. He touched one high, delicately molded cheekbone then pushed her back as he came over her. Uncertainly, she complied, stretching out on the bed. It felt incredible to settle on top of her, to feel her body adjust in position to bear his weight.
He propped himself on his elbows and cupped her head in both hands as he stared into her searching gaze. “I’m supposed to pleasure you first,” he whispered. “Not the other way around.”
A quiet smile widened her lips. Her smile was as beautiful as the rest of her was. As she stroked both hands down the long curve of his back, she whispered in reply, “I don’t think there’s any particular way this is supposed to go.”
“Then humor me,” he murmured, returning her smile.
Her eyes widened. Her expression held same kind of hungry fascination that he felt for her, as if she couldn’t get enough of the sight of him.
Bending his head, he kissed her, long and deeply. With a nearly inaudible murmur of pleasure, she ran her fingers across the breadth of his shoulders as she kissed him back.
The pleasure from their tongues colliding, their lips molding and remolding to each other, was so extreme it ignited something ravenous in him. Losing control, he ate at her like she was the only feast he had ever been offered, and that was a truth that hit deep in his bones.
He had been starved for ages. Ages.
Her slender, strong arms tightened around him. Lifting one leg, she wrapped it around his waist as she kissed him back.
He needed her mouth. But he needed the rest of her just as much. This feeling was exceptional, terrible. Pulling away from the kiss, he ran his shaking lips along her petal-soft skin, down her slender neck, across the graceful flare of her collarbones. She tasted clean and feminine. He loved her skin.
As he kissed his way down to her breasts, her breathing turned ragged. Nipping at her gently, licking and stroking the succulent curves, he pulled first one nipple into his mouth to suckle, then the other.
While he worked on her, she grew restless. Her body heated as the delicious, intoxicating scent of sexual arousal perfumed her skin. Twisting underneath him, digging her fingers into the muscles of his biceps, she tried to rise, but gently, pressing the palm of one hand on her collarbone, he urged her to lie back down.
With a frustrated whimper, she complied. A dark rosy flush had washed over her cheeks. Marks stood out against her pale skin from the gentle things he had done to her. He fingered one mark as he contemplated it, his cock pulsing with need.
“I want to taste you too,” she said. “Lick and kiss you. Bite… I want to bite you.”
Goddamn, he wanted it too.
A growl escaped him. Coming into a crouch over her, he slipped one hand underneath her neck and lifted her up to him. “Do it.”
Her expression was nearly indescribable, both a surrender and a sharpening of intent. As erotic need rose to take over, it was like watching her fall into a bottomless pool. She bared her teeth and reached for him.
He caught just a glimpse of it—both elegant and savage at once. Then she nuzzled her face into his neck, and her teeth fastened on the tendon that ran to his shoulder. With steady, deliberate pressure, her jaws tightened. As he felt the tiny pain, he hissed with pleasure and his cock jerked in response. When she would have pulled back, he pressed her back.
“Harder,” he urged.
Her response was immediate. She bit down harder, then sucked at the bite, and he almost spilled himself over her stomach. Withdrawing, she whispered, “I’ve never done that before. I-I made a mark.”
“Good,” he growled.
This time when he kissed her, the gentleness had vaporized into hot, aggressive need. Kissing him back, she cupped his erection in both hands and pumped him. Her strong, eager fingers almost did him in. Gasping, he pulled away from her touch.
“Seriously, give that back to me,” she complained.
He muttered in her ear, “I’m too close, and I don’t want to come yet.”
“Oh, fine!” Exasperated, she flopped back down on the bed, throwing her arms over her head. “You can do whatever you want to me, but I can’t do anything I want to you, is that it?”
He grinned at the sight of her laid out underneath him like a banquet. He had grown used to the nuances of emotion in her voice, and he could tell she wasn’t really annoyed. “You don’t want me to come yet either.”
Her expression turned needy. “No,” she agreed throatily. “I don’t. Not yet.”
The brief levity died away, replaced by a need that had become painfully urgent. He tugged at the waistband of her trousers, and willingly, she raised her hips so that he could pull them off along with her underpants.
The sight of her nude body brought such strong emotion welling up, for a moment he was unable to speak or move. She was beautiful everywhere, her legs lean with muscle. A small tuft of dark, silken hair curled along the juncture between her thighs. He gripped one of her legs, just above the knee.
As she watched him, her expression changed. Placing a gentle hand to his cheek, she whispered, “Are we okay?”
“We’re better than okay.” His voice came out deep and husky. “We’ve gotten lost in the realm of ‘I don’t know what I did to get so lucky.’” Sliding down the bed, he buried his face in that small, soft tuft of hair.
“I feel the same way.” Her fingers stroked through his hair. “I think maybe we should have a quick talk. You mentioned the possibility of lycanthropes dealing with pregnancy, so I wanted to let you know, I have an IUD. I don’t like taking the pill, and I don’t trust condoms—although sure, condoms are good for safe sex…”
As she rambled on a bit breathlessly, he lifted his head to smile at her. As elegant and as talented as she was, she was still a little nerdy, kind of shy but still determined to say what was on her mind. He could tell, without her saying so, that she had thought this one through, and she was determined to hit all the important points.
Ducking his head, he kissed along the edge of her pelvic bone. “I can prevent pregnancy too,” he told her. “It’s a simple spell.”
“Naturally, it’s a spell,” she said. Humor laced her unsteady voice.
“Naturally.” He pressed his lips to the juncture at the top of one thigh. A fine, subtle tremor shook in the muscles of her leg. “And as I haven’t had sex since… maybe we’d better not get into how long it’s been since I’ve had sex as there’s no need to keep emphasizing our age difference. But I’m clean, and I’m respectful.”
“Of course, you are,” she whispered.
“I can also tell from you bringing up the topic that you’ve been careful with yourself as well. And now I want you to part your legs for me.” He stroked his fingers along the outer edge of her sex, teasing lightly at the sensitive, delicate flesh.
Her breath shuddered. Then she obeyed and exposed the most intimate part of her. The trust in that gesture shot straight to his chest more accurately than any arrow could. As he gazed down at the fluted petals of her private flesh, he thought of how much he had dreaded seeing fear of him in her expression.
Stroking one finger along the seam of her entrance, he said almost inaudibly, “Thank you.”
Her hand skimmed over him, touching his hair, his shoulder, his chest, as she whispered back to him. “Thank you.”
The urgent hunger built up again. He couldn’t wait to take her in his mouth. Going down, he parted her petals to expose the small pearl of her clitoris. As he licked, nibbled, and tugged gently at her sex, her body flexed in instant response.
She began to shake everywhere. Closing his eyes, he focused all his attention on learning what pleased her. As he explored every part of her, the wetness of her arousal slicked his fingers and his mouth.
She tasted like love, like pleasure, like all the finer things he had grown to believe he didn’t deserve and would never experience again.
Lifting herself up to his mouth, she gasped, “That feels so amazing, I can’t even describe it. But—but—”
What is it, love? he asked telepathically.
Her shaking fingers stroked his temple. “I-I’m not very good at climaxing with others,” she confessed. “I can climax by myself just fine, but… well, I’ve only had two other lovers, so, you know, I haven’t had a l-lot of practice…”
Only two other lovers?
A storm of reaction swept through him, both triumph and possessiveness. The fools lost her, and if he had anything to say about it, nobody else would ever get the chance to be with her again.
He murmured in her head, Shame on them.
“What?” She sounded confused.
I said shame on them. They had a unique treasure, and they didn’t know how to take care of it. He nuzzled her then pressed kisses along her inner thighs. Just relax, my love. I’ll take you there.
“That would—that would be amazing.” Her voice trembled. “But if it doesn’t happen, I want just to tell you it’s okay. This feels so good. You feel so good.”
You’re beautiful, he told her. Every part of you is so lovely, your voice, your scent, your passion, your music, your strength, and your femininity. Relax, Sidonie, you’re safe with me. You taste like heaven, and I could happily stay here like this all night. We have all the time in the world. Shh, don’t strain for it, just relax.
It was a lie.
They didn’t have all the time in the world. In the back of his mind, where the lycanthrope virus lived, he could feel the moon traveling across the night sky, and he raged internally at the knowledge that he would have to leave her again before daybreak when he never wanted to leave her again. Not ever.
But his soft-spoken, telepathic words did what he wanted them to do. He could feel her relax as he talked to her, and as the tension flowed away, she opened herself further to him.
While he flicked at her clitoris with his tongue, he slipped two fingers inside her. She was tight, so tight, her inner muscles gripped his fingers, and he wanted nothing more than to plunge his aching cock into her lush, wet heat.
For now, he satisfied himself with fucking her gently with his fingers while he worked her. Gradually he increased his rhythm, until her breath came in sobs.
“I can—feel it’s there, but I can’t quite reach it,” she gasped.
Don’t try so hard, my love, he said gently, making love to her mind while he stepped up the pressure and he fucked her more deeply. In fact, don’t try at all. Ease up, and let me bring it to you. I want you so badly, it hurts. I feel thick as an oak tree. When you took me in and sucked on me, you shocked me so much I almost came in your mouth. All I can think about is planting myself so deep inside you, I never come out again.
“Oh, God,” she said on a note of complete amazement.
Her torso arched off the bed.
He could feel her climax start deep inside. She flushed all over, and tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes. It rippled outward in waves, and the raw, inarticulate sounds she made as she came were the most beautiful music he’d ever heard.
It set a fire burning in him, but he held himself back, watching her intently while he kept up the relentless pace. He said, Again, my life. Let’s go there again.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” She wiped at her face. She looked broken open. “It’s a miracle I went there once.”
I believe in miracles. At least he did for this one night. As the ripples eased, he sucked at her hard.
Her eyes flew wide. With a strangled shriek, she came off the bed again, and there it was, her second climax. Gods, she was lovely.
He wanted to watch her climax all night, but his own hunger was a savage goad so that abruptly he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer.
Rising up, he said between clenched teeth, “I need to get inside you. Now.”
Her face flared with eagerness. “Yes.”
She took hold of him and guided his cock into place, stroking him back and forth, until his head was slick with her arousal. The sensation was excruciating. Gritting his teeth, he endured it so she would be ready for his entrance.
Then she seated him at her opening, and he pushed into her. Rocking almost all the way out, he pushed back in again, this time a little farther. She was so tight, so hot. He watched her closely as pleasure illuminated her expression.
“You feel incredible,” he told her. His voice had gone guttural.
“So do you,” she breathed. Then, suddenly, she looked deep into his eyes, and the instant snap of connection between them was so strong he felt as if she pulled his soul halfway out of his body. Raking her nails down his back, she hissed, “Stop being so damn careful.”
And that was it. It was like she unzipped him. The civilized veneer fell away, and what came leaping out was primal, wholly ungoverned.
He thrust in all the way in one long, brutal move, and she ignited. His fire fanned hers again, and she met each of his long, hard strokes eagerly, lifting to him as he hammered down while she clenched down on him as tight as a fist.
She felt like wet silk and molten fire. He couldn’t get in far enough, hard enough. Plunging into her with his cock, he delved into her mouth with a punishingly hard kiss, and she took all of it, all of him, goading him on when he would have eased up, until he lost all vestige of control and rutted on her in a frenzy.
Gripping her by the thighs, he pushed her open wider so he could get deeper. He thought she climaxed again, but he wasn’t sure. Her hands roamed everywhere, and her mouth—that beautifully formed, soft, demure-looking mouth—whispered filthy things in his ear.
Where did she learn to talk like that? Angling his head, he stared at her, and she gave him a smile filled with such fierce joy, it was like she shoved him off a cliff.
He fell… he fell into her as inexorably as Icarus, who had flown too close to the sun. The climax he plunged into was a completely involuntary thing, beyond his control.
As he spurted into her tight, hot passage, he twisted up and back with the intensity of it. Vaguely, he was aware of her hands spread flat across his chest, helping to support his weight.
Sex had never been a transformative experience for him, until now.
Making love had never been transcendent.
Until now.
Now he finally understood why a queen might betray her husband for a knight who forsook his vows. Why Helen of Troy had been seduced by Paris and left everything in her life behind to follow him.
Why love could become a driving compulsion stronger than honor or death.
And as his climax slowed and he came back down to her again, covering her completely as he lost himself in the sensual extravagance of her lips, he realized he had come to a final point of completion in this dangerous journey he and Sidonie shared.
His heart still thundering in his chest, he pressed his lips to her forehead, and thought, I will do anything I have to do in order to keep you.
Anything.
* * *
They made love two more times.
Obsessively.
Unable to stop, or relax. Unable to unclench.
Morgan’s body. The ripple of muscles in his long limbs, the sensation on her skin as she rubbed her face in the hair on his chest. His face, that deep voice, the wisdom with which he seduced her, those brilliant, brilliant eyes.
It wasn’t comfortable, this roaring need for him. It wasn’t balanced. It hurt. She felt like she had plunged into a crisis of some kind. Reality had altered and had ignited her with invisible flame.
At one point, he held her by the throat while he took her from behind, and she loved it so much. It was so far beyond anything she would have once considered acceptable she didn’t know who she was anymore.
Finally exhaustion flattened her onto the narrow bed. “I need more,” she whimpered. “But I can’t.”
His voice had gone hoarse. He held her tightly, muscles locked. “So do I, but we’ve run out of time. It’s almost dawn.”
The thought of separating from him was like someone slicing at her with a knife. She buried her face against his chest. “No.”
“You have to find a way to come back to your room before your audience with Isabeau,” he told her as his breathing evened. “Don’t let anyone keep you from doing it. I’ll figure out a way to get the battle spell here to you.”
Lifting her head, she searched his face anxiously. His handsome features had already become so familiar to her—she could see the man she had come to know in the darkness shining out in every one of his expressions and gestures.
It all fit in seamless harmony together, like a lock and a key. How she had ever entertained the idea that he could have been Warrick was beyond her.
“How?” she asked. “It’s harder for you to move around in daylight.”
“I don’t know.” He stroked her short hair. “But I’ll figure it out. I’ll work on that today. The main thing you will need to do is not trigger the spell before you’re ready to play, because when it activates it will be unstoppable. You don’t want to squander it beforehand, but you also don’t want to trigger it in front of anybody in case they sense it. Once it settles into your skin, you should be all right, and you’ll know when that happens. You’ll feel it.”
Remembering the flood of epiphany from the last time, she nodded. Her stomach tightened as she thought of what was to come.
But she wouldn’t let him see how afraid she was of all the many things that could go wrong. She had been selfish enough earlier when he had mentioned the possibility of leaving for a while. She wouldn’t do that to him again, not when he was already doing everything he could for her.
“It’s going to be all right,” she said, pushing conviction into her voice. “I’ve been performing since I was four years old.”
He tilted his head. “Really?”
“Really.” She smiled at him. “This will be just another performance.”
A performance that her life depended on. Neither one of them said it.
He shifted position so that he could lean his forehead on hers and stare deeply into her eyes. She had never felt so connected to another person before. She touched his mouth and ran her fingers along the lean line of his jaw.
“I’ll try to be in telepathic range when you play,” he told her. “But I might not manage it.”
“I understand.” Throwing her arms around his neck, she held him as tightly as she could. “Oh, Morgan, I…”
I love you. I need you. My body aches all over, yet I still want you so badly I can hardly breathe.
She didn’t think she could say any of it and still make her arms loosen enough to let him go. Biting her lips, she pulled back. When he looked at her inquiringly, she gave him a twisted smile and shook her head.
She told him, “You’d better go.”
With a muttered curse, he rolled off the bed, scooped up his clothes, and dressed in short, violent movements. As he fastened his trousers, he said, “The hunter’s spray I was wearing wore off quite some time ago. I have more in my bag, but you can’t let anybody in this room until you’ve had a chance to freshen it with some other kind of scent. Go to the chatelaine Preja and tell her you want to clean your room. Preja is a good woman. Ask her for some of the soap scented with lemon, and cedar chips for the wardrobe to keep moths out of your clothes. Both the cedar and the lemon are strong fragrances.”
“I will, first thing,” she promised. She glanced at the bed. It was time to test what Kallah said about the fabric being spelled. “I need to wash the blanket too.”
Slipping on his boots, Morgan dug in his bag and pulled out a bottle. After spraying himself thoroughly, especially down his legs and his boots, he tucked away the bottle, then pulled her upright to kiss her. “I would help you if I could.”
She touched his jaw. “You’re helping me more than enough already.”
He glanced again at the window, where the darkness was beginning to lighten, and his face set. “I need to go.”
She fisted her hands in his shirt. “Be careful.”
While his expression had turned grim, his eyes warmed. “And you as well.”
He kissed her one more time, a quick, burning caress of the lips that made her body pulse. In one swift movement, he pulled away and slipped out of her door.
The sense of his presence lingered in the room for a few moments. Then she felt the chill of the early morning on her skin and shivered.
I hate everything and everyone, she thought savagely. If fact, I’m going to live for the opportunity to rip off somebody’s head today.
As tired as she was, the thought of the danger to Morgan—to both of them—if she didn’t clear her room of his scent fueled her with adrenaline. She scooped up the blanket, the clothes she had worn, and the clean dress, and headed for the wash rooms.
This time, early as it was, she wasn’t so lucky about privacy. Several of the castle servants were using the rooms, both men and women. Self-conscious and wary, she collected the soap she needed and found a tub where she could work, but while she could sense the others casting curious glances at her, they left her alone.
As before, she washed everything else first. The clothes and the blanket were remarkably easy. After she plunged them into the water, she scrubbed them with the soap to be safe, and when she lifted them out, almost all the water ran off them, leaving them slightly damp. They would be dry before the day was over.
Then she washed herself, dressed and brushed her teeth. When she was sure she had thoroughly cleaned everything, she gathered everything up and headed back to her room.
As she stepped out of the wash room, she discovered Warrick standing with another man at the intersection of two hallways nearby. Another pulse of adrenaline hit, making her heart pound and her hands shake.
Ducking her head, she headed for her room. The last thing she needed was a confrontation with Warrick. She wanted to bite somebody’s head off, but in his case, she might be biting off more than she could chew.
But he clearly didn’t have mischief on his mind that morning. Instead, as she passed by, she heard him mutter to the other man, “I swear by the gods, I caught a hint of Morgan’s scent.”
“But he hasn’t been seen, or scented, anywhere since we know he left Avalon,” the other man said. He carried a pile of clothes under one arm and looked as if he were headed to the wash rooms.
Sid’s stride hitched. When she thought of how close she had come to them being able to scent Morgan on her body and clothes, her heart jumped to her throat. A few feet down the hall, she paused and bent, pretending to adjust the heel of her shoe.
Surreptitiously, she glanced behind her, but neither man paid any attention to her. She wasn’t a threat, and she wasn’t important—she was just another servant moving about, doing her chores.
“I’m not crazy,” Warrick snapped. “I know what I smelled.”
“I believe you,” the other man replied with a shrug. “But Morgan has also wandered this castle for centuries. Like so many others, his scent must be imbedded in the stones. To be sure, we need to do another circuit around the castle and the town. That’s going to be the only real test of accuracy. He couldn’t have left a fresh scent in here without leaving one out there, right?”
A shiver went down her spine as she listened. Morgan had been alive—had been a slave—for centuries? She could hardly fathom what it must be like to live for so long. What he had witnessed and experienced.
“I don’t want to wait to gather the other Hounds together,” Warrick told the other man. “You and I should head out right away.”
As the two men strode down the other hallway, Sid slowly straightened. Fear tightened her stomach. If they had chosen to go down the hallway that led to her room, they might have scented Morgan had been in there.
If only there was some way she could warn Morgan… but there wasn’t. She had to trust he was smarter and wilier than the other Hounds and he could remain hidden from their searching.
In the meantime, she needed to get the cleaning supplies from the chatelaine and thoroughly clean her room.
By the time she had finished, her room was filled with the robust scents of cedar and lemon. To be on the safe side, she mopped down the hallway in both directions. Working quickly was as decent a workout as a three-mile jog.
After she put away the cleaning supplies, she went begging for a breakfast she could take with her to the music hall. Triddick gave her a strip of bread that had been wrapped around cheese and meat and then baked. Her empty stomach rumbled at the appetizing scent.
“Thank you.” She gave him a smile.
He nodded to her. “I hear your audience will be held in the great hall. I look forward to your performance.”
Really? Why had he heard that before she had? Angling her jaw out, she felt ready to bite someone’s head off again, but it wasn’t fair to take out her bad temper on him. Pivoting on her heel, she strode to the music hall.
Once the door closed behind her, the privacy of the long, empty room was like a soothing balm, and her angry energy faded. She had come to think of this hall as “hers,” and she would miss giving up the private sanctuary when Isabeau’s music master returned.
Sitting at the table, she ate part of her breakfast to ease the empty ache in her middle. Then she shoved the rest to one side and buried her head in her hands.
Her body ached all over with remembered pleasure. She thought of the things she and Morgan had done to each other throughout the heated night, and need pulsed through her again.
This obsession with him was the height of insanity.
But she had never been successful at controlling her obsessions…
Tiredness hit, and she slumped. She longed to curl up on the couch to take a nap, but today, of all days, was going to be unpredictable. Kallah or someone else might come in at any time to announce she would be playing in the great hall.
She could never afford to forget her behavior was being watched.
That feeling of being watched—it was in her bones, a prickle at the nape of her neck…
A sudden conviction struck. Suddenly, she was sure someone was watching her, even though she was supposedly alone.
There was no magic to it, just good old human intuition.
Pushing to her feet, she turned in a circle and studied the seemingly empty room. The huge, intricate tapestries did not reveal any bulge. Instead, they lay flat against the walls, just as they should.
The bookcases stood flush against the wall, so no one could hide behind those. The stands holding the instruments were artistically crafted, but not solid pieces. Rather, they were constructions made with strips of carved wood, almost like an artist’s easel. There was the furniture arranged near the fireplace, the couches and the chairs, but as she walked slowly toward the area, the shadows behind the furniture appeared empty.
There was no other place she could see for a body of any size to hide.
But what if it was a body that was not of any substantial size?
Not one of the castle dogs. They were too big.
But a rat, for instance, could hide very well in a room such as this. Or a cat.
He might not even be in this room, but somewhere close by. Reaching for the mental image of her kidnapper, with that thin, strange face, she said telepathically, Robin?
She felt nothing, no sense of whether she had connected to someone or was talking to dead air.
Then one of the dark shadows behind the couch detached from the others. It was a black cat, and it stalked toward her with smooth, sinuous grace. Between one step and the next, it transformed into a thin, upright figure.
The figure almost looked like a human teenage boy. Almost… except for those wild, ancient eyes.
Robin said, “Hello, Sidonie.”