Chapter Thirty-Nine
Isobella moaned and pressed her breasts into his palms. The calluses on his hands, rough against her tender flesh, sent sparks straight to her core. They were his hands. It was his big body beneath her. He thought her beautiful. She believed him. He had given her no reason to doubt him.
He levered himself up, grinding his cock against her slick sex, then he was bending her over, stretching her back so he could latch on to her nipple with his mouth.
Oh, God, it was…it was… He nipped and licked and sucked her nipple, plumping her breast with his hand, giving it the devotion of a man starved.
It was heady and intense. It was everything she’d dreamed it would be with a fated mate.
Everything she thought she’d never have. Yet here she was.
Edmond switched to her other breast, and she grabbed his head, anchoring herself with her fingers in his hair. She couldn’t stop the breathy moan he wrangled from her lips.
He released her nipple with a wet plop. “Louder, Bella. I want to hear your moans. Talk to me. Tell me what you like.”
He rolled his hips, grinding his cock against her needy core, and a craving so strong it snatched her breath away ripped through her. She wanted his cock inside her. Right the hell now. It shook her, frightened her a little. He did it again, and she dug her fingers into his scalp.
“You.”
He chuckled, then sucked her nipple into his mouth again, raking his teeth across it. Isobella moaned, louder this time. His cock was hot and hard against her needy flesh, and her core throbbed.
“Good girl.”
Another burst of need swamped her. How had she imagined she wouldn’t orgasm with this man? She might orgasm from this alone. “Oh, God.” Her fingers clenched in his hair.
Edmond chuckled against her skin, and a fresh rush of desire, hotter than the Santa Ana winds, spread like wildfire through her body. The sound that came out of her mouth was unrestrained, debauched.
“Not God, bébé. Edmond. But I am going to worship like you deserve. Every inch of this beautiful body. All night long.”
He scraped his beard over the underside of her breast, his warm breath brushing over her peaked nipples, and her canines dropped down. She growled. “I want…” She didn’t recognize her own voice, but she was too far gone to care. She needed him like she needed air.
He trailed a hand down, slipping it between them. “I have you, Bella. Hold on.” He tapped her clit with his thumb, hard, and Isobella exploded.
She was beautiful, but never more beautiful than now as she held on tight, her head thrown back, her mouth open and her guttural moan filling his ears as she clung to him, her peak hitting her hard.
It would be the first of many he would wring from her body tonight.
He would do as he promised. Worship every inch of her body. Show her what pleasure was.
She slumped into him, but she was not done. Not even close. Her canines scraped across his shoulder.
“Edmond,” she mumbled into his neck.
The thrill of his name on her lips surpassed anything he had ever experienced—receiving his first sword from his father, his first triumphant battle, his first hunt as a wolf. There was another first he wanted, ached for. His first time inside her.
“Steady yourself, chaton.”
She grabbed him about the shoulders, and he lifted her, lined himself up with her entrance and slowly slid her down his cock, stretching her, until he’d seated himself deep, deep inside her.
Edmond’s eyes rolled back in his head. Her channel fluttered around him, warm and wet, and he all but spilled his seed like an inexperienced lad with the girl of his childhood fantasies. She was the girl of his dreams. The woman. His woman.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his chest heaving.
By the Fates, he had never thought it could be this good.
But it was. It was everything. He did not care that he must share this with his brother.
It was a small price to pay to have this.
To have her. If they were back in their keep, if Faucher and Cordelia and Douglas did not still threaten their existence, Edmond could, would stay here like this with her forever.
She wiggled in his lap, trying to lift herself on and off his cock. “Edmond, please!”
He chuckled, and she clenched around him. Her wolf was riding her hard. His wolf was impatient, too.
“Move.” Her voice was little more than a growl. “Take me. Fuck me.”
Such crude words coming from the sweet mouth of his mate almost shred his control. Hanging on by his teeth, there was naught else he could do but oblige her.
He rolled his hips as he lifted her on and off his cock.
She held on to him, her beautiful curls cascading over her shoulders, brushing against his sensitized skin.
And the noises she made. Merde. A combination of growls and moans that sent fire ripping through his testicles.
He moved faster, forcing her down on his cock harder, deeper.
She keened. A strip of curly black hair sprouted across her thigh, and bones cracked and popped in her hands.
Her wolf was close to the surface. She was lost. He was lost.
“Hold on tight, Bella.”
He pounded into her, chasing her release as much as his own.
She clamped around him as she hit her peak, and pleasure ripped up his spine, tightening his balls as he flew over the edge with her.
His wolf roared, and he latched on to her shoulder, his canines punching through skin and muscle as wave after wave of pleasure rocked him to his soul.
She screamed her release, so loud it could have woken the entire keep and the village beyond.
Aubert could not have failed to hear it.
Nor his fellow wolves. Then she struck, sinking her canines into his shoulder.
She’d marked him. His wolf’s triumph rang in his mind, but he kept his canines buried in her shoulder, holding the howl in his throat.
That he had the presence of mind to know it would not be wise to release it, not here in Langeais Keep, was astonishing.
Everything else was obliterated from his mind.
By her, by them, connected, his cock deep inside her, her body clenching around his.
It gripped him deep in his soul, pulsing inside him as surely as his cock pulsed inside her, spilling his seed.
He had claimed his mate, as it should have been the first time.
And she had claimed him, too. He collapsed back onto the covers with her, cradling her in his arms. He retracted his canines and licked the wound on her shoulder, watching it close.
She was his, and he was hers. Right now, despite the trouble their pack faced, that was all that mattered to him in this world.
* * * *
Isobella stirred. Beside her, wrapped around her, was Edmond, snoring softly.
She smiled and stretched within his arms, her body deliciously sore.
After he’d taken great care in cleaning her, he’d fed her.
Slices of cheese and pieces of fruit, the brush of his fingers against her lips reigniting the tingles in her core.
Popped grapes between his teeth and offered them to her, making her take them directly from his mouth.
Holding a goblet of wine to her lips for her to drink, spilling some over her breasts—deliberately—then licking her clean.
She hadn’t laughed so much in a long time.
And they’d had sex—no, made love—twice more.
What they’d shared was not just sex. It was more.
It was fun, but it was tender. An exploration of each other, a learning, with a connection that went beyond the body.
It was everything she’d ever hoped for and then some, but had never had.
Isobella chewed on the inside of her cheek.
She suspected she may have part shifted in the heat of the moment, but she hadn’t been brave enough to ask.
Edmond hadn’t seemed to mind. Nor that she’d bitten him.
She rubbed her hand across the spot between her neck and shoulder, now smooth and unmarked.
He had bitten her, too. And she’d liked it.
The possessiveness of it. Like he’d claimed her.
Would Aubert want to bite her, too? The thought of it sparked a fresh awareness tingling across her body.
She wanted that. Soon. When they returned to the d’Louncrais keep and they didn’t need to hide anything from anyone.
Isobella snuggled into Edmond, but he was so sound asleep he didn’t budge. That made her smile. She’d worn him out. He’d worn her out. The only thing that would make this more perfect was if Aubert were here.
A noise, a groan, had Isobella stiffening. She snapped her eyes open, her skin prickling with an altogether different awareness. They were no longer alone. Aubert? Could he have snuck in from the hall once everyone was asleep?
She listened, keeping as still as she could, moving only her eyes. The oil lamps had gone out, and the coals in the brazier no longer glowed. The abandoned food platter lay on the floor, the empty jug next to it. Nothing looked out of place.
A cool draft brushed against her naked shoulders. There was someone in the room.
Edmond hadn’t moved. He was still snoring softly.
Isobella worried the inside of her cheek.
He was a warrior, a born shifter. Nothing would get the jump on him.
Was she being paranoid? Jumpy because she was in a strange place with so much danger surrounding them?
That draft, as though the door to this bedchamber were open, bothered her.
But if someone were truly here with them, why would she wake and not him?
Then she sensed it, barely discernible, but there all the same.
A soft hum hovering over her mate. Magic.
Nausea curdled her stomach. Once again, she’d failed them.
Failed to recognize when magic was at play.
The whole damn reason they’d brought her along to Langeais in the first place.
But who? Cordelia? Her gaze slid to the table, searching, hoping she was wrong.
She wasn’t. The grimoire was gone. That was what had awoken her—the release of her magic.
It had overridden the spell placed on them. For her, at least.
That sense they were not alone still prickled across her skin.
What was Cordelia waiting for? It had to be her, coming for her grimoire.
The walls of the keep and all the keep guard wouldn’t be enough to keep her out.
But if Cordelia had taken it, why was she still here?
Why were they still alive? Had Isobella awoken in the nick of time?
Her instincts were screaming at her, but there was no chanting, no whisper of magic releasing. Someone was still in the room with them, but nothing was happening. Could the breaking of her ward have done more damage than she’d thought? To a witch as powerful as Cordelia?
Ignoring the rush of blood in her ears, she reached out with her senses, beyond Edmond. There. Near the open door. A sound. She focused on it, narrowed it down. Heavy breathing, gasping almost, and a softly whispered, “Bitch.”
Isobella’s eyes widened. She knew that voice. It wasn’t Cordelia.
She sat up, clutching the covers to her chest. Douglas, but not the Douglas she knew, crouched against the wall by the door.
His features were shifting. One minute it was a round, ruddy face with a bulbous nose.
The next it was Douglas. He’d used magic to disguise his features.
And her ward had hurt him. Knocked him to the ground.
He was doubled over and in obvious pain.
Satisfaction burned in her chest. Serves him right.
Isobella shook Edmond, but he didn’t respond. It could be hours before the magic wore off. She might need to break the spell herself but she didn’t have time for that. The grimoire was still within her reach.
Isobella threw back the covers and skirted the bed, oblivious of her nakedness. “Douglas.” Isobella approached him. “Give me back the grimoire.”
His head jerked up, and he snarled. “Fucking bitch.”
He launched himself to his feet. She reached for him, for the grimoire. He shoved her back against the bed, then stumbled to the door and out into the corridor.
Isobella turned to Edmond. He hadn’t moved. “Edmond.” She shook him again. “Edmond, wake up! Douglas has the grimoire.” She slapped him hard. His snores didn’t even miss a beat.
Shit.
She would have to go after Douglas herself.
She ignored her chemise, her boots and her dress, and slipped on her underdress—it would have to do.
She raced out of the door in time to see Douglas disappearing down the stairs.
He wasn’t moving fast. He limped, doubled over.
Smug satisfaction filled her. So much for her magic being useless.