Beastly Passions (28 page)

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I do. Remember that.”

Taras smirked. “You threaten me? The only man brave enough to risk being jabbed at with sharp objects?”

She made a face. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Why? Because you regret it?”

“No,” she hissed, wrangling her hand from his grasp. “Because I will never hear the end of it!”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he nuzzled her. “Tell me one thing.”

Asha seemed distracted by the feel of his skin pressed to hers, however, she answered him anyway. “
Why
 did I do it?”

“This same scenario has taken place before and yet you approached criticism differently. I would have gladly beat him for your amusement.” Reaching up, he cupped her chin and moved her head so that they were eye to eye. “So why would you dirty your hands?”

“Because he. Doesn’t. Know. You. He clearly still undervalues me. And he thought that he had the right to talk to me as though I was beneath him; as though 
you
 were beneath him. He thought he had a right to insinuate that you had to pay for me. Like an object. He assumed that because the rest of the pride was allowed to jeer such a thing—which was barely tolerable—that I would allow it again. That I would let him stand in the midst of a man who is leagues better than him and say that he could not find love or affection without it costing him coin. In this instance, I couldn’t let it go, Taras. I couldn’t sit there, in front of an entire audience and let another person devalue you; let another person call me merchandise. So I chose to remind him that I have a voice. That I have emotions. And the most prominent one in that moment was undeniable rage.” Asha’s lids closed tightly. “I shouldn’t have enjoyed the way that felt, but gods, it was so good. His suffering was good. I wanted more of that. I still do.”

He pressed his lips between her brows. “We came away wanting in our pursuit. If Grigoriy truly has Nirav, we’re unsure of where to begin in locating him.”

“I wish I could say I was overwhelmed with concern, but seeing as how he was plotting your death, I find myself more interested in whether or not the torment has begun.”

“Asha,” he said gently. “It is okay to admit your worries. He,”—Taras exhaled—“he is guilty of greed and narcissism, but he is still your father.”

“A father who raised me to see myself as expendable because he feared my potential rather than realizing how much good could come of it; how much good
did
come of it. I was made to see the world from a woman’s perspective far before my time. I was forced into adulthood because for me there was no coddling, no warmth. Only the rewards of my work.”

Taras stilled, regret assailing him as he recalled what he’d whispered to her upon their wedding night. “I told you I had no comfort or softness to give,” he said quietly. “I compounded issues that you had already—”

“What you did was protect yourself from the possibility of rejection by ensuring that I wouldn’t prod. You thought that if I attempted to establish a connection I would be let down because you were under the mistaken impression that you had nothing to offer other than your wealth,” she cut in. “And you were wrong. There is so much more to you than your genius. So much more to you than what you possess. No matter what anyone else has said or will ever say. Your strength is not synonymous with how quickly you can whip your cock from your pants and wag it about.”

The anger in her tone told him of what she was referring to. “Your brother’s speech about my lack of potency did not matter. I—”

“
No
,” 
she interrupted, lifting her head to capture his stare. “
No. 
That isn’t permissible anymore. Not here. Not in my presence. Father or no, brother or no, my support—my bond—lies here now, with you. And no one is allowed to challenge that without repercussions.”

She had given him so much in such a little amount of time. The unexpected gift of her complete acceptance combined with her ferocious defense could not be compared to anything else he’d received in this lifetime. The intimacy he’d come to associate with her touch and her care left him defenseless. It was impossible to return to his previous state of stone after the way she’d demanded that he lay claim to her. It wasn’t a request. She hadn’t 
asked 
him for a gods-damn thing. Asha had told him in word and deed that she was to be his and he was to be hers.

It was as he sat where he was, with her eyes fastened to his and completely unmoved by the notion that he could ignore the taunts of others, that Taras realized how much he loved her. Without question. Without linear, concise thought. Without anything other than the most savage parts of himself. Taras loved his wife. She’d only ever petitioned him for one thing and one thing alone—that he be more than the beast. That he show her more than his roar and primal urges. And he wondered now if that was meant to be for her benefit or his own.

“You told me once that I was not the man you envisioned for yourself. That I was frightening,” he said now as he searched her face for some sign that she felt as strongly as he. “But you never attempted to coerce me into being different. You never attempted to cage me or train me like a circus animal. You only ever said, 
‘Show me more.’
 Why? If I have said this once, I have said it a thousand times, I would do anything—
be
 anything—for you.”

Her gaze turned indulgent. “You never needed to be different; to be trained.” Asha placed a hand to the center of her chest. “But
 I 
did. I spoke so much of adaptation and adjustment because I’d spent my life dedicating every breath I had in the pursuit of happiness for others. I wrongly assumed you were simply another person coming to take away what little strength I had gained for myself. I thought I had been forced to wed a violent, careless madman with the agenda of shaping me into nothing more than a well-bred possession. So I tried to keep you at a distance. I tried to convince myself that all I had ever felt—and would ever feel—was loathing. But I’ve never truly loathed you. You were simply the only one around to take the brunt of my frustration. The scapegoat in my sights. And the moment you touched me,”—she closed her eyes as if remembering—“kissed me, I wanted to fight harder. Because it was so much easier when you lived up to my low expectations. It was so much easier to continue the façade when you behaved like an arrogant, high-handed ass. It was so much easier to lie to myself.

If I was attracted to you, would that not make me a hypocrite? Could I still be angry with my father? My pride? I had to rationalize that the wants of myself and my beast didn’t suddenly mean that what they’d done was justified. It made them no less guilty of pushing me out. It simply meant that I would be better off, 
happier. 
Rather than struggle with it any longer, I chose to challenge you to give me a reason to surrender. If I could see something other than your claws and hear something other than that roar, I would be okay. And I am. Every single day that I have dealt with your antagonizing and your dry humor and your overbearing ways, I have been okay. I’ve never expected you to transform into what I envisioned because I realized weeks ago that what I envisioned was wrong, Taras. So, so wrong. A softer man, a man without scars, would have 
never 
inspired what I feel when I hear you grumble my name in complaint.”

Swallowing, he found the ability to query on a whisper, “And what is it that you feel?”

“You don’t understand by now?” she asked softly. He shook his head and she kissed her teeth. “Foolish man.” Asha moved to straddle him. She rested her forehead against his and answered with, “If stabbing my brother didn’t make it obvious, allow me to give you clarity; I love you. I’m still not certain that I like you or can even tolerate your tales of fighting brown bears—which is not something you will 
ever 
teach our cubs—but I am strangely, ridiculously, terrifyingly in love with you.” Her fingertips trailed over his nape. “And if I do nothing else, I’m going to ensure that you
never
doubt this.”

Taras wanted to say something profound in response,
anything,
but all that passed his lips was her name. And he put everything he had behind that barely perceptible sigh. Because that was all he could force out past the strange lump that had taken shape in his throat.

Her hold tightened and she nodded lightly. “I know. You don’t have to say it because I
know.”

That was all that would ever
matter to him. Her knowing. Her understanding. Her comfort.
Her.

It was
all so much softer. The press of his hands on her skin, the brush of his mouth gentled by emotion. He hadn’t spoken them, but Asha could feel the words on his tongue as it licked over hers. She could hear them between each syllable of her name as it was repetitively murmured. She could see them in the way he watched her as she moved her mouth across the scars of his chest, stopping to pay special attention to each one that had marred the perfect progress of muscle. His abdomen contracted under the track of her tongue and she bit back a grin.

Asha reached the delineation of his pelvic area and quietly stared at the thick length of his sex as it lay heavily against his thigh, hard and wet just at the tip. Stroking her hand over him, she listened to his groan. She angled forward and her tongue flicked out. His hips arched upwards, meeting the suction of her lips as they fastened to his cock and pulled him in.

Taras groaned and spread his thighs wider while reaching forward to push the majority of her hair away from where it had fallen into her face. Asha worked him over in a bob and watched as his head fell back on his shoulders. When his length touched the back of her throat, a moan shot from him and she was suddenly pulled away and rolled under the power of his frame.

“I wasn’t—
oh!”
Asha’s complaints were sheared in half with the invasion of his member as it drove through the moist tissue of her core; made that way from simply touching him.

His retreat was slow. As was the following thrust. And he never removed his eyes from hers. It was the intensity of his stare combined with the firm, jostling strokes that left her gasping beneath him.

“Taras…”

“I love you,” he voiced, his tone raw. “
I love you.”

Her husband moved at a sharp angle that caused her canines to drop. Leaning over her, he buried his face into her neck and ran his teeth over her mark. Stars danced before Asha’s eyes at the bite of pain. His cock tunneled into her pussy, lunging with enough force to leave them both sliding across the mattress. He moved his mouth from her shoulder to her breasts and latched onto a nipple. That in itself was enough to send her sex rippling around him, but when he unleashed his fangs to score her flesh again, Asha jolted, shaking all the way through the sudden and unexpected climax. He released her as she cried out. And without hesitation or doubt subduing her this time, she took Taras’ right forearm, brought it to her mouth and clamped down over the muscle, claiming him as her own.

***

“You’re
wearing a helmet.
Why
are you wearing a helmet?”

“Because I fear that if I do not, I will be unprotected from any and all possible assault. I would like to avoid this.”

Asha placed her eyes on her mate, but said nothing.

His lips visibly twitched and he looked down at the floor before raising his stare to the ceiling. “How many discussions must we have about tormenting others, Mischa?”

“I take necessary steps to guard well-being and it becomes torment? How? Why am I not allowed to feel safe?’

“I didn’t get nearly enough sleep to be forced to deal with,”—Asha waved her hand at the other tigress—“this.” Moving away, she went and took a seat in a far corner of Taras’ laboratory.

She spoke true. After having spent most of the night up and very little of it resting, they’d been called from the confines of their den because Alexei felt as though he and the insane woman standing in the middle of the room with protective gear adorning her head, had unlocked the puzzle of Grigoriy’s plot.

Admittedly, their lack of sleep was their own doing as they hadn’t seemed capable of keeping their hands, mouths, or other extremities off of the other. Eventually when Asha could take no more, she determined the meaning behind their plight. Mating heat.

 
It was too early for her conception heat cycle. That wasn’t supposed to occur for at least another six to seven weeks. A natural parameter put into place for her kind, it controlled a shifter female’s ovulation, ensuring that there were only two times a year that she was fertile. Essentially a population restraint had been implanted by their creators being that bear sleuths, canines and felines all retained the ability to produce multiples in one pregnancy. Large litters were common more so within the wolves, wild dogs, coyotes and jackals than any other species. However, it was still a necessary measure considering how many of their kind came together once mated.

Asha’s last heat had been months ago, and she’d made it a point to seclude herself in Ras al-Khaimah, the place where she’d tucked away property that was solely her own. The task hadn’t been easy with males far and wide, but she’d managed. Her calculations and close monitoring of her calendar only confirmed what she already knew to be true—she wouldn’t be fertile again for quite a bit. And yet, there she had been, after finally marking him, a wave of fire in her womb, which swept across her flesh so quickly that she hit the floor and found herself on her hands and knees,
begging
him to take her again. So he had. Over and over.