Authors: Goldie McBride
Tags: #romance, #paranormal romance, #fantasy, #paranormal, #shapeshifter, #shape shifter, #fantasy romanc
He turned the horse then without
another word and kicked it into motion.
Aslyn gasped as the horse lurched
forward, grasping frantically for something to hold on to. She
needn’t have worried. Kale held her tightly against his chest with
one arm.
“Put me down this instant!” she
demanded when she’d recovered sufficiently from her fear of falling
to manage it.
“No.”
Aslyn turned to look at him in
disbelief. “Why?”
He took his gaze from the path long
enough to focus a cold, narrow eyed glare upon her. “Because Algar
wants you. You cannot run fast enough, or far enough, to escape
him.”
Rather than frightening her as she
supposed had been his intention, his words wounded her to the
quick. She looked away, determined not to allow him to see the hurt
in her eyes.
It was not, after all, as if she could
have failed to know that Algar wanted her, or that Algar would
certainly try to track her down. Although Kale could not have known
that Algar had admitted to her that he’d been searching for her
ever since she’d fled her home, he must surely know she was not so
stupid as to think Algar would suddenly decide to stop pursuing
her, only because she had shown herself unwilling.
It hurt, though, to realize Kale’s only
interest in, or concern for her was in using her to trap
Algar.
She didn’t trust herself to speak for
some time afterward, fearful that she would find a warble in her
voice, or worse, burst into tears. By the time Krackensled had come
into sight, she had recovered sufficiently from her hurt to be
angry once more but also to realize that, as compelling as her
reasons for leaving were, she could not voice them, and even she
was obliged to admit that any lie she might come up with could only
sound weak and foolish.
He had no right to hold her against her
will. The king had not sent him to harass innocent travelers, but
to track down and slaughter the wolves wreaking so much havoc on
the populace. However, she was in no position, unfortunately, to
demand release, or, more accurately, to enforce her
demands.
They left his horse at the livery near
the center of town and walked the remainder of the distance to the
cottage. Any hope Aslyn had that he might simply escort her there
and leave were dashed immediately.
He opened the door, ushered her in, and
immediately closed and bolted the door behind them. In truth, Aslyn
was barely even aware of his actions. She thought for several
moments that he’d brought her to the wrong cottage.
The packed dirt floor had been covered,
virtually every square inch of it, with carpets. Two high backed,
overstuffed chairs had been set before the hearth. A small table
between them held a silver candelabra with a half a dozen burning
tapers. In the place where the rickety table had sat, stood a
handsome, gleaming oak table and two matching oak chairs. A screen
behind the table partially blocked her view of the bed, but she saw
the narrow bed that had been destroyed in the scuffle had been
replaced by a wider one with an elaborately carved foot
board.
She turned to look at Kale
questioningly and saw that he had discarded his tunic. He advanced
upon her, a purposeful look in his eyes. Startled, Aslyn took a
step back, lifting her hands to hold him off. He ignored the weak
defense. Scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the bed, he
dropped her in the middle of it. Aslyn bounded upright as he sat on
the edge and proceeded to remove his boots.
“What are you doing?” she asked, more
than a little stunned.
He stood up and began removing his
breeches. “Something I should have done long ago.”
Aslyn’s eyes widened as he pushed the
breeches from his hips, her gaze focusing of its own accord on the
swollen male member jutting from the thatch of hair low on his
belly. Heat suffused her as she stared at it. Her heart commenced a
frantic tattoo against her chest wall, making her breath short and
fast.
She moistened her dry lips.
“But….”
Grasping the neck of her gown, he
ripped the ancient, thread bare fabric from neck to waist as if it
were no more than paper. Aslyn gasped in shock, staring down at her
exposed shift, worn to the point that it was virtually transparent.
As he reached for her last defense, she scurried away. The rending
sound of tearing cloth told her, however, even if the sudden, chill
kiss of air had not, that she had not successfully eluded him.
Clutching the tatters of her clothing, Aslyn scrambled to the far
back of the bed, glancing wildly around for an avenue of escape.
The bed was wedged into a corner, however, leaving two sides
blocked by walls, a third by Kale.
She leapt for the foot of the bed at
the same moment that Kale leapt toward her. He caught her around
the waist, dragging her back.
She placed her palms against his chest.
“What are you doing? Why?”
He grasped her arms, forcing them to
the bed on either side of her head. “Claiming what is mine … what
has always been mine.”
A strange mixture of anger and desire
rushed through her at his words, at the look in his eyes. “You’re
no better than Algar,” she said coldly.
Something flickered in his eyes. For
several moments, she thought he would release her and withdraw,
instead, after that brief hesitation, he lowered himself until his
bare chest was resting against her breasts, until his mouth hovered
mere inches from her own.
Aslyn stared up at him, her gaze
focusing upon his hard mouth, and something warm and liquid flowed
through her, washing the anger away, leaving only the desire. She
had wondered from the first moment she’d seen him what it would
feel like to be desired by him, kissed, and caressed. She lifted
her lips to him in mute appeal.
He swallowed, his gaze flickering to
hers momentarily before he closed the gap between them and pressed
his mouth to hers. Fire flooded her at the first touch of his lips.
She opened her mouth to him, conquering even as she
surrendered.
A shudder ran through him as he thrust
his tongue into her mouth, tasting her essence, exploring, touching
off currents of liquid fire that flooded her belly with molten
flame, raced through her veins, bringing her whole body into
sizzling life. She wrapped her arms around him, unaware, and
uncaring of when he’d ceased to hold her captive.
She ran her hands along his back,
exploring every inch of him that she could reach, even as he
explored her body with his hands.
His body was as she had imagined, taut
muscles everywhere she touched. His skin was smooth and as soft was
her own along his back but faintly abrasive on his chest and arms
where hair grew. She moved restlessly beneath him, enjoying the
texture of his skin as it brushed hers, feeling her nipples harden
into stiff, throbbing peaks.
He broke the kiss, moving down to cover
one hard peak with his mouth. Aslyn gasped, groaned, and cupped his
head to her. Threading her fingers through his hair, she tugged,
offering her other breast to him when he finally, reluctantly,
released the nipple he had teased until she was writhing in
mindless ecstasy, groaning as if she was dying.
As heavenly as the suction of his mouth
on her breast was, it was not nearly enough. She wanted … needed
more.
She began to struggle against him and
when he lifted slightly away, she kissed him as he had kissed her,
exploring his body with her mouth. He groaned, allowing her
exploration, holding himself in check with an effort that made him
tremble beneath her touch.
The tremors running through him were
echoed by her own body, a sense of urgency building within both of
them until they reached a point where neither could wait longer to
join their bodies. Aslyn spread her legs for him, reaching for his
throbbing male member to guide it inside her even as he moved to
wedge his hips between her trembling thighs. Looping an arm beneath
one thigh, he lifted it as he pushed fully inside of her in one
swift thrust. Expecting the pain of having her maiden head
breached, Aslyn gasped, tensed against a pain that was
insignificant beside the pleasure of feeling his flesh become one
with hers. She nipped his shoulder, then sucked it to soothe,
curling her other leg around him and arching her back to urge him
on.
He needed no more. He was shaking with
the effort to hold himself in check and at that began to thrust
inside her in long, powerful strokes that fed the hunger in her
belly for the caress of his man’s flesh. She countered each stroke,
tilting her hips to urge him deeper, meeting each thrust with a
grind of her hips that drove them both to the edge within
moments.
He went still suddenly, squeezing his
eyes shut, every muscle straining against giving into his body’s
demand for release. She cried out in frustration, thrusting her
hips against him until he uttered a long, low growl and began to
move again, hard and fast. He bit down on her shoulder as his
climax seized him, his body jerking against hers with his release.
The nip of his teeth sent her over the edge of pleasure. It
culminated in an explosion of ecstasy that ripped through her
entire body, leaving lassitude in its wake.
She went limp beneath him, barely
conscious.
Chapter Ten
Minutes pass while they fought for
breath. Finally, he gathered himself and rolled off of her and onto
his back beside her. Aslyn found herself drifting in a hazy state
of blissful repletion. After a while, she realized, dimly, that she
had not put up much of a fight to fend him off. She had offered
little in the way of maidenly objection. She had certainly not
behaved as a maiden when he had touched her.
She found she didn’t care.
She should have. What he thought of her
was important to her. She had never given herself to any man before
and she feared her behavior might make him think otherwise, but in
the end, she realized that nothing beyond the moment really
mattered. There was no future--not for her--not for
them.
It still bothered her. They might have
little time together, but she wanted it to be good between them.
She wanted warm memories to take with her.
She should be furious with him for his
presumption that she would simply yield herself to him only because
he had claimed her. If she could rouse a healthy dose of outrage,
she would be considerably more convincing as a maiden who’d been
robbed of her virtue.
She could not seem to rouse any sense
of outrage, however. She could not, in fact, dismiss the urge
growing inside of her to join with him again to see if it was as
wonderful as the first time.
She rolled onto her side, studied him
for a long moment, and then reached over and plucked gently on one
of his chest hairs. One corner of his lips twitched, threatening a
smile. She tugged a little harder.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed dutifully, and
then spoiled it by chuckling. “What was that for?”
Aslyn thought about it a moment, but
she was in no mood to start a fight by pretending outrage she
didn’t feel. “Just checking,” she murmured and lay back down
again.
“For what?”
“Life.”
Laughter rumbled from his chest. He
lifted his head, flicked his flaccid member, and collapsed again.
“For the moment, there is none.”
A gurgle of laughter escaped Aslyn
before she could stop it. “So much for ravishing me.”
Kale rolled onto his side, propping his
head on his bent arm and staring down at her, his expression a
cross between amusement and worry. “I did not pleasure
you?”
Aslyn tried to look despondent but
failed. “You know very well that you did.”
He grimaced. “Actually, I was not
altogether certain. I lost control.” He flopped back on the bed,
staring at the ceiling. “I do seem to recall hearing something
between a yodel and a cat screech.”
Aslyn punched him playfully and rolled
over on top of him, smiling down at him. “You can do it again, if
you like.”
His lips twitched. “With your
permission?”
The sense of playfulness vanished as
she studied his face and realized that the passion she felt for him
was only a part of what she felt. Her heart--her soul--was as
deeply, irrevocably his as her body--as she had known it would be.
She wasn’t certain which had come first, or if it even mattered.
The two could not be separated.
Small wonder it had cut her so deeply
to think he cared only that he could use her to trap
Algar.
She lowered her gaze, forcing a smile.
“With all my heart,” she said playfully, swallowing with some
difficulty against the lump of misery that had risen from nowhere
to lodge itself in her throat.
He caught her chin, forcing her to look
up at him and she felt her smile fall a little flat.
“Forever?”
She looked away, forced a chuckle. “For
tonight at least,” she said flippantly, then, when he frowned, she
reached down and cupped his male member. “If I can rouse him from
slumber.”
It hardened at her touch, grew to fill
her hand to overflowing.
He rolled onto his side so that she
landed on the bed beside him. Cupping her face in his hands, he
lowered his head and kissed her with such tenderness she thought
she would cry. She found she could not bear his tenderness. It made
her feel as if her heart would break.