Chapter 10 #4
A single, deep gasp that instantly faded the bright red of her face and chest. She sobbed out the breath she’d taken and drew a second as she threw her arms around his neck.
She was sensitive, so he’d seen her struggle for control over tears before, but never had he felt her sob as hard as she did now.
Her entire body shook as she was racked over and over with them, the sorrow she’d kept so carefully at bay suddenly everywhere.
He hadn’t felt a truly anguished woman up close like this in a long time.
One of the disadvantages of a bachelor household and an exclusively male Pack.
Still, he knew enough to cradle her close and tight and let her cry herself out.
He felt her small hands gripping him convulsively wherever she could catch hold.
Her tears soaked his shirt, but he paid it no mind.
She felt warm and real, and somehow more whole than mere minutes ago.
It was his empathy feeding him that knowledge.
“Hush, baby,” he soothed her softly. “Everything will be well. I promise you that.”
“I know,” she hiccupped. “I know!”
He smiled against her hair at that, amused at her contradictory responses. It was several more minutes before she calmed enough to let him turn up her ravaged face to his.
“I was lost,” she sniffed, her eyes seeming so much bigger now with the flushing sparkle of tears.
“I know I was. I had nothing, and I was lost, and now you want to hand me the world. You want to give me a place again. And I feel in my heart that you’d never let me be lost again.
You are so beautiful, Reule,” she whispered fiercely, leaning into him so their warmth meshed and her mouth stroked over his.
“There is poetry to your culture, your honor, and the values you hold dear, and I would be a fool to deny you anything. And whatever I was in my former life, I know I was no fool.”
Reule smiled against her seeking lips. “You cry as though the world were ending, kébé, but you speak words that breathe exhilaration into my soul. But it’s not your gratitude I want.
This request is wholly selfish, remember?
What I want you for has nothing to do with charity.
Knowing this, speak plainly to me, Mystique.
Will you be my Prima? Will you be my wife, bear my heirs, and rule me with that sweet wisdom of yours for all the rest of your days? ”
“Yes,” she breathed into his mouth, her lips nibbling his in hungry little bites that incited unruly needs.
She intensified the pressure, connection, and heat with each successive kiss, her small hands cupping his face and holding him to her demands.
This was why it took so long for him to truly hear her, the response sinking slowly into his brain.
“Yes?” he repeated, doubting what he wanted so badly to be true. He was afraid he was imagining it.
“Yes.”
In his lifetime, Reule had known moments of certainty that were outside explanation. They came as a clarity beyond all compare. He had known it each time he’d sworn in a Packmate. He had known it when he’d stepped into the Jeth Valley for the first time.
He knew it now.
She was his match. His soul mate. A part of him had been aware of it since the moment he’d first sensed her, and it had refused to let him leave her behind.
Their connection was undeniably unique and powerful.
It was the sort of bond upon which great kingdoms could be made.
She was made to be a queen. To be his queen.
He was made to be her husband. As he drew her soft, welcoming body forward out of the chair and onto his, he knew he’d been created to be her lover.
No chemistry so potent could be a mere trick of chance. It was a destined thing.
His heart told him so.
When she had won it, Reule didn’t know. He hadn’t even had a chance to balk at the idea of loving a woman.
In his ninety years, he had dealt with enough women to know the only thing he understood about them was that they were hard to fathom.
Mystique was even more of a mystery than most. But he wouldn’t fear that if it meant feeling the rush of adrenaline and joy that he was feeling now.
He ought to have quelled it, curbed it for the sake of his mourning Pack, but he couldn’t.
It was dusk, the fading light outside the windows telling him that the Depths had ended.
He also knew Amando would never have forgiven him for letting this moment pass in repression because of grief for him.
So he felt, letting it all wash over him to open his mind and senses in uncanny ways.
The wind-washed scent of her clothes and hair ebbed over him with the sweet perfume of woman on its back.
Her hands dove into his hair, fingers skimming his scalp until he involuntarily shuddered from the sensation.
Her mouth, soft and luscious, teased against his in long, shallow kisses.
Her soft bottom was seated on his thighs now that he had pulled her into his lap, and her warm thighs caged him in at his sides.
All he needed to do was grasp her sweet backside and drag her a few more inches forward and he would be fitted perfectly against her.
Not trusting his control, he didn’t give in to that desire just yet.
Instead, he drew his hands up over her body, riding up her sides until she squirmed and gasped in hot, breathless little sounds that opened her mouth to his swift and thorough assault.
Then the kisses became deep and drugging.
His hands were suddenly cupping and curving over her breasts through the heavy cardinal red velvet she wore.
She wore the color of his city, the mourning color, and the respect it showed swelled his already bursting heart.
“Damn me,” he muttered when the fabric impeded his explorations. Longing washed over him in waves that craved one thing from her body and another from her mouth. There was the sound of tearing fabric as he forced the material to give way to him.
He dragged down the tight bodice of her dress, exposing breasts and body free of a corset.
Reule groaned when he felt the bare skin so warm beneath his fingers.
She panted for breath in tortured little gasps that taunted the hell out of him because they sounded so damn sexy.
Blotting out her world with a wildly hot kiss, Reule cuddled a breast in his palm, marveling at how well she fit him, and at her response as her nipple budded like a tight little rose between his seeking fingers.
“Please, I need to put my hands on you,” she begged with a desperate whimper as she dragged at his shirt, seeking his heated skin even as he reached to strip off the impeding garment.
Her hands were on his belly seconds later, sliding up over him, leaving blankets of flames in her wake until every inch of skin burned with the feel of her small, thorough fingers.
Her fingernails scraped like tiny dull blades through the hair on his chest, seeking his nipples just as he’d sought hers, enjoying his vocal response when she stroked over them.
Then she, was reversing direction and, all of a sudden, the path became ten times as arousing just because she was heading toward his waist rather than away from it.
Reule remembered quite well that she wasn’t shy about her likes and curiosities, but he didn’t think he could bear her boldness just then.
Fangs were already pricking against his mouth, and his aroused body ached right along with them.
He drew away from her, abruptly surging to his feet and watching her eyes roam him with blatant appreciation as she took in his height looming over her.
Her gaze lowered to the prominent evidence of his need, and when she licked her lips with sultry hunger, it sent his pulse screaming.
He reached down and grabbed her hand, jerking her up against his bare chest so he could feel her brazen breasts against him.
“Bed,” he said, his voice a low rumble of command. “I want you in a bed.”
He swept her up and headed out of the study.
He held her tightly to himself so it was only her bare back exposed to others, should they encounter anyone, but Reule knew they were all busy with preparations for that evening.
Before long he was striding into his bedroom and all but tossing her onto the huge platform bed.
Seeing her there, half naked in his bed, his for the taking, stole his breath away.
It sharpened his want so badly that it physically hurt.
He reached out and flipped her over onto her belly, giving himself a fine view of her slim back and adorable fanny.
Oh, the position had beautiful possibilities, he thought as he ran blatant hands over her bottom, listening to her squeal softly in delight.
His goal, however, was the laces of her dress, which he’d ignored previously.
He stripped her out of them with nimble, impatient fingers and shucked her out of the confounding layers of skirts and underskirts.
Mystique giggled and squeaked the entire time, twisting alternately toward and away from his roaming hands while he bared her body to his pleasure.
When she was completely naked, he groaned with tortured satisfaction and turned her slowly back over.
He watched every curve, every line as she rolled to his command.
It was different. It was different to see her nude this time and know he would be taking her.
It made his heart kick into double beats, his skin turning so hot that it was moist with perspiration.
She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling in temptation each and every time until he couldn’t stand to look at her a second longer.
As if reading his mind, she slid to the edge of the mattress, dangling her legs over the edge until her knees bumped his and her hands came out to frame his hips.