Chapter 17
RUVON
Arezoo arched up under him, and the small breathless sounds she'd been making were getting louder.
He hadn't expected her to be so bold, so fearless.
Perhaps she didn't know what he had in mind?
He'd prepared himself for the possibility that she'd stiffen up the moment his mouth moved below her stomach and ask him what he was doing, or that she would let him continue out of bravery and stubbornness and not because she was enjoying it.
None of that was happening.
She was responding to him. Her hands were threaded into his hair. Her hips were lifting off the bed in small, uncontrolled movements that she probably wasn't even aware of making.
When he reached the final destination on his downward trek and put his mouth on her, she uttered the most surprised little sound, and he paused to check if it was distress, but she tightened her grip on his hair.
"Don't you dare stop," she whispered.
He kept going with renewed gusto, licking and sucking and kissing, and she was loving it.
He was discovering that he'd underestimated his bride.
He loved her so much, and he'd thought that he'd had her figured out, but he'd been wrong. Tonight, she was teaching him that she'd been hiding a part of herself that had been waiting for permission to come out, and somewhere between the bathtub and the bed she'd given it that permission.
Now she was here, with her dark hair fanned across the pillow and her body responding to his mouth, and he, who had been so worried about overwhelming her, was overwhelmed by his bride's response.
The problem was that the hard part was still ahead of them, and he dreaded the inevitable pain that he would have to cause her.
He could bite her now and spare her the pain.
The venom would flood her system with aphrodisiac and euphoria, and she'd feel only pleasure and none of the pain, save for the split second of the fangs first breaking her skin.
That would sting a little, but after that, it would be the best trip of her life.
But he wasn't going to do it.
She would never forgive him if he robbed her of this experience because he feared causing her pain.
The bite would come at the end as it should.
But that didn't mean he couldn't prepare her. He would give her every advantage his immortal body could give without resorting to his fangs. His saliva carried a small amount of the venom's properties, enough to soften the edge of what was coming without taking the experience away from her.
He brought her up slowly, taking his time and paying attention to every adjustment of her hips, every change in her breathing, everywhere she pressed up against his mouth, and every place where she pulled back.
He worked one finger into her, carefully, and she gasped, and he held still until she relaxed around him. He added a second.
She was so tight that he had a fleeting thought about whether this was actually going to be possible without the venom bite.
He pushed the thought away.
He was going to make it not only possible but pleasurable.
He'd prepare her, and her body would adjust to him because that was what female bodies were designed to do. He just had to keep being patient and go slow.
He found the place inside her that he knew would catapult her higher and pressed there gently.
Arezoo's whole body went tight. "Ruvon."
"Mm-hm."
"I—I don't—"
"Just let it happen, my love."
He flicked his tongue over her at the same time he pressed inside her, and the pressure he felt in her body told him she was close. He kept the rhythm, and her hands had tightened in his hair to the point of pulling, but he didn't mind. She could pull it all out for all he cared.
He didn't slow down.
Arezoo arched off the bed and threw her head back, making a sound that Ruvon had never heard her make and that he would remember for the rest of his life.
Her body clenched around his fingers in long pulses, and he kept her there for as long as he could, his mouth gentling its pressure as the contractions slowed, until she was lying flat on the bed again and breathing in long uneven gasps.
He moved up her body slowly, kissing as he went.
When he reached her face, her eyes were half-closed, her lips were parted, and her cheeks were flushed in a way that he was going to picture every time he closed his own eyes for the next thousand years.
"Hello," he said.
She laughed weakly. "Hello."
"You all right?"
She nodded. "I never imagined…I don't have words."
"That's all right."
"That was—"
"I know."
"I love you."
He kissed her, slowly, and she returned the kiss with the languid satisfaction of a girl who had just discovered something new and wonderful about herself and didn't yet know what to do with the discovery.
She lifted her hand and traced the line of his jaw with her finger, her thumb brushing his lower lip.
She went still. "Your fangs are out," she whispered.
"They are." They were only partially elongated because he was forcing them not to extend fully. It was better if she didn't see them at their full length before the first bite.
"Will you bite me tonight?"
"Yes."
Her thumb stayed where it was, tracing his lower lip, and her eyes searched his face.
"I want you to," she said.
"I know."
"I'm not afraid."
"I know that too."
She ground her hips up against him, her body warm and slick from her release, and the pressure of her against him took the last of his composure and put it on a shelf somewhere out of his reach.
"Ruvon," she whispered.
"Yes."
"Make us one."
He shifted his weight, bracing himself on one forearm beside her head, and reached down with his other hand to guide himself. He'd been so hard for so long that it was painful.
He pressed against her, and she gasped, and he stopped.
"Easy," he whispered.
"It's okay. Just keep going."
He pushed in just the smallest amount, and she winced before she could school her face.
He stopped immediately. "Sweetheart—"
"Don't stop. I'm okay."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He moved a fraction deeper, and she winced again, and he stopped again, and her hands came up and gripped his shoulders.
"Don't stop every time I make a face. I can't help it, but I don't want you to stop."
He took a long breath.
He was going to have to override the part of himself that was screaming at him to back off every time Arezoo showed any sign of discomfort. She'd told him what she wanted. He needed to listen to her and not to his own panic.
He pressed deeper.
She drew in a sharp breath, but her hands on his shoulders tightened rather than pushed, and her chin tipped up.
Ruvon kept going, inch by careful inch, watching Arezoo's face the whole time. When he was fully seated inside of her, he stilled.
Her body was tense under his, and her eyes were squeezed shut. There were tears on her lashes.
"Sweetheart," he whispered, and bent to kiss them away.
He kissed the tears off both eyes, and then her cheeks, and then the corner of her mouth.
"Do you want me to withdraw?"
"No way. Just give me a moment."
"Take as long as you need."
His fangs were itching, and his body was responding to the tight heat of her around him by demanding to move, to bite, and it was taking every scrap of his concentration to keep them where they were, half-extended and no further.
He couldn't fully retract them, not now, not with how aroused he was, but he could keep them from fully elongating, and he could keep them out of her neck until the right moment.
The problem was that holding them back required attention he needed for her.
He breathed through it.
He'd held himself back for so long. He could hold a little longer.
Under him, Arezoo's breathing slowed. He felt her inner muscles, which had tightened around him in a desperate clench, begin to soften. Her hands on his shoulders relaxed. She moved her hips, just barely, the smallest experimental shift, and she didn't wince this time.
"Okay," she whispered. "I'm okay. You can move."
He pulled back, just a little, and pushed in just a little, the smallest possible motion he could manage. She made a soft sound that wasn't pain.
He did it again.
And again.
She was so tight that even the shallow pumps were almost more than he could bear, and he held himself to them anyway, because she was still adjusting and because she was human and fragile and because he'd promised himself that he was going to give her pleasure on her wedding night.
After a few more slow, shallow thrusts, her arms tightened around him, and she pulled him down.
"More," she whispered.
He gave her more. Not much, just a fraction less shallow, a fraction faster.
"More."
A little more.
Her body started to move with his, lifting up to meet him. She was finding her rhythm. The wince was gone, and in its place was the same flushed, half-lidded expression she'd had after he'd finished pleasuring her with his mouth.
He let loose, just a little, and then a little more.
Ruvon still wasn't letting himself go all out the way his body craved because he couldn't. Arezoo was human, and he was an immortal, and he needed to be mindful of her fragility until she transitioned.
But he allowed himself to move with more force than the careful shallow pumps he'd started with, and Arezoo responded by arching up into him and making sexy, encouraging sounds against his shoulder.
"Ruvon," she breathed.
"Yes?"
"I'm…again. I'm going to—"
"Let it happen, sweetheart."
He felt her tighten around him, and the pressure of it pushed him to the edge of his own control, and he reached down with his free hand and gripped her hip and held her there as her body began to pulse around him.
She cried out. It was a real cry, an unselfconscious one, and her head went back, her neck arched up, and that was when he let himself go.
His own release came hard. He felt his fangs drop the rest of the way, and he didn't fight them this time.
He bent his head, and his mouth found the soft place where her neck met her shoulder, the place he'd kissed a hundred times in the months they'd been engaged.
He kissed the spot and licked it before sinking his fangs in.
Arezoo stiffened.
It was brief, just a small flinch of her registering two punctures, and then the venom hit her. He felt her go from rigid to liquid in the space of a single breath. She climaxed again, and again, harder, and then again.
He kept his mouth where it was. He stayed inside her. He held her through it.
She climaxed once more, and he felt the moment her body went soft underneath him in the deep, complete way that the venom produced. Her hands fell from his shoulders to the bedspread. Her breathing slowed into the long, even rhythm of the venom's deep float.
She was out.
She was soaring on the wings of euphoria, floating away to somewhere wonderful, and she would spend long hours there.
He couldn't wait for her to come back and tell him what she saw.
He withdrew his fangs gently, sealed the puncture marks with his tongue, and lifted his head. Her face was turned toward him, and her lips were parted and smiling.
"I love you," he whispered against her temple.
She didn't answer.
He stayed where he was for a long moment, holding his weight off her, just looking at her. Her dark hair was a mess across the pillow. Her cheeks were flushed. The pink rose petals from the bedspread had stuck to her shoulder and her hip, and one was caught in her hair.
He withdrew from her body slowly, gently, and she made a small, soft sound at the loss of him, but didn't wake.
He climbed off the bed and stood there for a moment, looking down at his sleeping bride.
His body was still humming with the aftermath of his own release, and his fangs were retracting.
He had the same slightly disoriented feeling he always had right after a bite.
But underneath the haze was deep satisfaction.
He'd done it. He'd given Arezoo what he'd promised himself he would. He'd given her pleasure, and her first time would be something she would remember fondly for the rest of her very long life.
She was going to wake up in a few hours, floating on the residue of the best venom high an immortal male could give a female.
Ruvon padded into the bathroom.
The puddle on the floor was still there, and he stepped around it, crossed to the sink, and quickly cleaned himself up with a fresh cloth.
He soaked two more cloths in warm water and wrung them out.
On his way back to the bedroom, he stopped at the door and looked at her again, admiring the miracle of her.
His truelove mate.
He came back to bed and gently turned the cloth over the soft place between her thighs.
There was a little blood. Not much. Less than he'd feared.
He didn't know whether it meant that she hadn't experienced much pain, but he hoped it meant that it had something to do with him being gentle with her.
He cleaned her carefully, and when he was finished, he set the cloth aside on the nightstand.
He pulled the towel out from under her and tossed it onto the floor with the rest of the things that were going to be a problem for tomorrow. He then drew the duvet out from under her in slow, careful inches.
The pink rose petals scattered, some of them falling off the bed, some still stuck to her body. He left them there because they looked like they belonged on her.
He climbed in beside her, pulled the duvet up over both of them, and gathered her into his arms, settling her against his chest. Through it all, she hadn't stirred or made a sound. Her breathing stayed deep and even.
He pressed his mouth to the top of her head.
"I love you," he whispered into her hair. "I love you, my Arezoo, my beautiful, perfect wife."