Bride Gone Bad (18 page)

And yet . . . if Tempest got what she wanted from Lucky, how long would it last? He spoke about forever, but so had Haig. Was she foolish to give away what young women were counseled to save for their husbands on their wedding nights? Once gone, her virginity could never be regained. What would Elmira and Lamira think? Would the Ladies Benevolent Society of Delaware Bend approve or disapprove? And yet . . . did anything matter except the feel of his lips as he pressed hot kisses down her neck?

“You are so beautiful,” Lucky murmured. “Skin smooth as rich cream. Eyes the color of twilight. Hair like spun gold. Yet your body is the least of your beauty. Your true beauty can't be seen, only felt like the stir of a breeze, the warmth of a sunbeam, the ripple of a stream.”

With those words, she knew that she loved him. And she would love him forever, no matter how long or short their time together. She cared not a whit what others might say or think or do. She would always count her blessings that he had graced her life with the touch of his mind, his body, and his soul.

Tears blurred her eyes as she turned her face into the hollow of his throat. She felt the strong beat of his heart through his pulse. She caught his scent of sage, leather, and citrus. He was vitally alive and he was with her. He wasn't a ghost that she could talk with but never touch. He didn't pity her for her affliction. He even called it a gift. He valued her, all of her. If not love, he'd crowned her with respect and admiration. And it was enough. In fact, it was more than she'd ever hoped to receive in life.

“Smile for me,” she said, feeling her heart expand with happiness.

“What?”

“I want to see your dimple.”

He chuckled, revealing his dimple. “I've a lot better things for you to see.”

She toyed with the indentation in his left cheek with the tip of her finger, and then followed with a soft kiss. “What kind of big, strong man has such a cute dimple?”

“Don't press your luck.'

She reached down and stroked his hard shaft through his blue jeans. “May I press my Lucky?”

“Won't you be serious for one moment?”

She stretched her back, rubbing her breasts against his chest. She felt a deep contentment, almost lethargy settle into her limbs. Nothing mattered except right here, right now. They had all the time in the world, at least for the night.

She rolled off his lap and stretched out full length on her side. “Go ahead, show me.”

“What?”

“The part of you that's better than your dimple.”

He chuckled. “You want me to strip for you?”

“I believe I'll just make that part of my fee for talking with ghosts.”

“What happened to the lady I met in the Bend?”

“Gone bad.”

“How bad?”

“If you're good, I'll let you find out.”

“What if I want to be bad?”

“That'd be good.”

He laughed harder, shaking his head as he unbuttoned the cuff of one sleeve and then the other.

“Now that's a
good
bad boy.” She put her elbow on the blanket and rested her chin on her palm while she watched him. “You're so beautiful, too. Just every little thing about you.”

“Little?”

She smiled. “Excuse me, every
big
thing about you.”

“Better.”

As she watched him, she felt her heart fill with such love that it almost took her breath away. He stood in the glow of the campfire with a velvety black backdrop and a canopy of starlight and moonlight overhead. He seemed made for the night, a man of mystery and magic.

“Are you invoking your matrilineal rights?”

“My what?”

“Right of descent through the mother.”

“What does that mean?”

“When Europeans arrived on Turtle Island, they brought their legal and social systems, which restrict female rights, but many native nations followed matrilineal descent.”

“I still don't understand.”

“A man married into his wife's clan and became part of her family. Their children belonged to her clan, not his clan. Maybe it wasn't obvious to European men, or more likely they chose to ignore it, but these tribal women wielded great power and influence.”

“What happened?”

“Those who won the wars imposed their systems on those who lost. Yet we never forgot or lost our respect for the power of women.”

“Now I have a name for the way I was raised in Jefferson. The men in our family died in the war, and our women were left to carry on alone.”

“That often happens in war.”

“But you're talking about children, aren't you? I don't understand why. You have that French protection, don't you?”

“French caps.” He slowly unbuttoned his shirt from the top down. “You don't have a Rattler clan of your own, so I offer my Sun Rattler clan to you.”

She bit her lower lip, feeling as if her world was spinning out of control again. “I can't see that it matters.”

“Trust me, it does.”

“But we aren't married. We're just having . . . relations. I hope.”

He pulled his shirt tail out of his blue jeans, slowly shrugged the fabric off his shoulders, and then tossed the garment to one side.

She caught her breath, all thoughts flying away at the sight. He had broad shoulders sculpted with lean muscle down his chest past his belly button, where his blue jeans clung to his narrow hips. With almost no chest hair, his skin glowed golden in the firelight. His Soleil Wheel appeared raised, no longer flat, as if it was coming alive on his body.

“I meant it when I said that you're my bride tonight.” He put his hands on his hips and looked across the fire at her. “Many different cultures practice many different ways to join a man and a woman. I mean for us to join as Rattlers in an ancient symbolic rite.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It is.”

“Couldn't you just kiss me?”

He smiled, flashing his dimple. “I'll do a lot more than that.”

“Couldn't we get on with it?”

He put his hands on the top button of his blue jeans, and then slowly unbuttoned one button after another as he moved downward.

Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to reveal the long, hard length of his shaft.

“Tempest, come here.”

She felt too languid to move. She felt receptive, like an empty vessel waiting to be filled with rich nectar.

“Now.”

Something in his voice had changed, as if he had invoked some age-old power that recognized nothing but obedience. She rose to her knees, responding without conscious thought. On hands and knees, she moved slowly around the campfire until she knelt in front of him.

“Look at me.”

She glanced up and was riveted by the Soleil Wheel on his chest, for it appeared to whirl clockwise. She felt a primitive force flow from his Wheel to the Soleil Wheel over her heart. Soon her Wheel felt as if it whirled counterclockwise. And she felt breathless with anticipation as heat blossomed deep inside her, like a flower opening its petals to the warmth of the Sun.

“Close your eyes.”

She didn't know what he was doing, or why, but for now she would go along with it. She lowered her eyelids, savoring the anticipation of his touch. Instead, she heard him shuck his blue jeans and toss them aside. A flash of heat rippled through her at the thought of him naked, ready, and able to consummate every dream she'd ever had of her wedding night. She grew hotter still as she imagined his long, lean muscles, the power of his body, and the hardness of his shaft. At the center of her desire, she ached, burned, and became moist. She waited for his touch, more impatient by the moment.

Instead of coming to her, Tempest heard him rummage in his saddlebags. Disappointment, confusion, and frustration made her want to leap up and grab him, but she reined in her desires. And waited. She felt hotter with each moment that he delayed her satisfaction. Perhaps that was his intention.

When he returned to her, she felt him wrap a soft scarf around her eyes and tie it behind her head. She tossed her head in irritation. She reached up to remove the blindfold, but he pushed her hand down.

“ No.”

She felt the power in that one word. Maybe he wanted her to focus on his touch and nothing else to heighten her senses. Perhaps he thought she needed a ritual to feel like a bride. It wasn't necessary. She needed only him.

And then she coughed as thick, sweet smoke washed over her, surrounding her with a pungent scent. She wished he'd say something, but he remained quiet until she heard the beat of a drum that echoed her heartbeat.

“Stand up.”

“Are you sure—”

“Yes.”

As she rose to her feet, she felt her Soleil Wheel throb in time to the beat of his drum. He must be giving her a ceremony, but it was like nothing she could ever have imagined in her life.

“Remove your clothes.”

If he wanted her to feel vulnerable, he was accomplishing his goal. He could see her, but she couldn't see him. To undress in front of him while blindfolded seemed indecent, decadent, and erotic. Could that be his reason? Was he building as much tension in himself as he was in her?

She reached for the top of her blouse and slipped free the first button. She took her time, making each movement of her fingertips slow and sensual, one button after another, until she dropped her garment to the blanket. She hesitated, drawing out the moment, and then unbuttoned her skirt and let it slide down her legs, feeling the fabric rasp sensually against her bare skin. He was instigating a heightened sensitivity in even the most ordinary of actions. When she stood in only her chemise and drawers, she drew a deep breath, tingling all over.

“Finish.”

She moved slowly to the beat of his drum, unbuttoning her chemise, slipping it off her shoulders, and dropping it to the blanket. She felt her nipples harden and her breasts swell at the thought of his eyes feasting on her bare flesh. And she grew hotter and wetter between her thighs in anticipation of his touch.

And still his drum pounded in time with the beat of her heart, the smoke enveloped her, and the Soleil Wheel throbbed on her chest. All of it combined to raise her desire, build her lust, expand her passion. Yet he didn't touch her. She unbuttoned her drawers and let them fall to the blanket. And she stood naked before him. When she heard his sharp intake of breath, she smiled in triumph. No matter his control, he wanted her.

“Kneel.”

She started to question or protest, but she had come too far to stop now. She was the student. He was the teacher. And she wanted to learn. She knelt at his feet again.

And the drumming stopped. She was surprised when she felt him clasp one of her wrists and pull it behind her back, and then the other. She was even more surprised when she felt cool metal surround both wrists and heard the rattle of chain. She tugged to get free, but he'd securely bound her.

She hadn't bargained for this, and she felt uneasy. She started to stand, but felt his hand on her shoulder, pressing down.

“Stay still.”

“I'm not sure—”

“Do you trust me?”

She hesitated, acutely aware that she was naked, bound, and so very vulnerable.

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”

“ No.”

“Trust me now.”

She sighed, realizing that she would follow him almost anywhere, even deep into uncharted territory, as she had been doing since she'd first met him. Good or bad, she had no way to know yet. Still, she felt her love for him, her connection to him, grow deeper with each passing moment.

He knelt before her, grasped her shoulders, and pulled her toward him. She felt him position her so that her Soleil Wheel was opposite the one on his chest. And then he twined his arms around her and slowly pulled her close.

As their Soleil Wheels touched, she felt as if they burst into flames. She moaned as searing heat enveloped her entire body. She struggled to twist out of his embrace, but he'd bound her so that she couldn't escape. She felt as if they were going up in flames, melting into each other in a white-hot river of fire. And still she moaned and writhed against him, trying to get free.

When she'd lost all sense of time, feeling as if she'd blazed in his arms for all eternity, the heat changed, withdrawing from her extremities. As the fire contracted toward the heart of her, it grew in intensity until she burned with a desire so bright that she trembled and moaned in desperate need.

Yet she had no power. Only he could give. And she receive.

Lucky rode a wave of power that kicked like a bucking bronc. If he hadn't bound Tempest with silk and silver, he'd be hard pressed to hold her.

Rattlers must normally have wielded this type of power before they had transferred the Atlahtaw power to the spirit plane. He wanted to give in to the exhilaration that surged through him in a flame of searing heat, but he held tight as he balanced on a knife's edge. To lose control or to give in meant annihilation for both of them.

And then the power shifted, intensifying as the heat spiraled inward, growing hotter as it raced to his center. He felt a jolt in his cock that turned him desperate. He gripped her harder and felt her naked body writhe against him as she tried to escape his embrace and break the connection between their Soleil Wheels. Her actions inflamed him more. He fought to retain control, but he could think of little except driving deep into her hot, moist center.

Now was the time to complete her initiation. He glanced up. The Moon rode high in the sky. The campfire burned low. And the protective circle he'd drawn in the dirt with a stick several feet out around the campfire hadn't been broken. They were safely inside the Medicine Wheel, so no outside force could get in and harm them or interfere with the ceremony.

As above so below, the power moved from spirit to Earth, from outer to inner, and was ready to be grounded in a man and a woman. Only two Rattlers with their level of abilities could safely ignite the old power. Even so, he wasn't sure they could survive the joining, but they had no choice except to try. The Moon Rattler had set them on this path, or it had been ordained long before her gift to Tempest of a personal Soleil Wheel.

Tempest struggled in his arms, kicking out and almost getting loose. He gripped her harder. He couldn't let her break free now, not when they were so close. He had to protect her from herself, from unleashed power, and from outside forces. He strained with the effort because he fought his own powerful need for her, too.

“Tempest, listen to me.”

She tossed her head back and forth.

“I'm going to lay you down on the blanket, but please don't struggle.”

She writhed harder in his arms. “I want—”

“I'll give you everything you want, but don't fight me.”

“I'm burning up.”

“I am, too.”

“Please make this stop.”

“Soon. I'll release one of your hands if you won't try to break the connection of our Soleil Wheels. Promise?”

“Yes.”

He hoped she'd had time enough to gain control of her reaction to their combined power. He reached behind her. He released the chain around her left wrist and left it hanging from her right wrist. And then he hooked the chain around his left wrist so that their two hands were joined together.

“Tempest,” he said solemnly. “You are now unbound from your old life to enter freely into your new life.” He pulled the silk scarf from her head and tossed it aside. “You move from the dark of your old life into the light of your new life.” He placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Abide with me.”

She stared at him, tears sparkling in her violet eyes, and then raised her hand and gently stroked his face. “Yes, I'll abide with you.”

And her words freed him. All restrictions, restraints, reservations disappeared in a blaze of fire.

He sank down to his knees, taking her with him. He kept her right arm behind her back so he could control the connection of their Soleil Wheels. But with his right hand, he was free to stroke her hair, down her shoulder, across her back, and clutch her butt as he pushed his prick hard between her thighs and urgently moved against her. He felt hotter and harder than he ever had in his life. He fiercely needed to complete their union.

And she rained hot kisses across his face, digging her fingers into his hair, scratching his shoulder with her nails, and undulating with her hips as she bathed his prick in her thick, hot honey.

Any other time, he would have teased and tormented her until she was wild with desire. Now there was no need. She was ready. He was ready. There was no reason to wait. He eased her down onto her back. He raised her right hand above her head and held it there as he nudged her thighs apart.

“Ladylove,” he whispered against her ear. “I'll try not to hurt.”

He'd lack finesse, knew it, but couldn't stop the urgent desire, change the position of their bodies, or hold back another moment. He raised her hips with one hand, centered the tip of his prick against her hot, slick, swollen lips, and then pushed hard, met resistance, and then thrust deep inside her.

She cried out in pain as she clutched his shoulder.

He didn't apologize. He couldn't say anything. He was lost in stroking her harder and deeper, relentlessly joining them as he felt heat and power and passion combine and swirl and pull them higher and higher toward the spirit plane as she moaned and moved with him, timing her motions with his strokes as if they both danced to the same beat of one drum.

But his release didn't come, no matter how hard he drove into her hot, wet depths. Instead, he spiraled tighter and higher, reaching up, striving for completion. And he felt her stay with him, riding and undulating and urging him onward. Until he felt as if there was no world except this one of power and lust and . . . love.

In that moment, he realized that he truly loved her. Nothing, not even Soleil Wheels or Rattlers, could ever be as important to him as the woman in his arms. She was his life, his light, his ladylove. And he would do everything in his power to keep her safe and by his side forever.

With that realization, he reached his peak and bathed her in his hot fluids just as she screamed his name and joined him in flight from the physical to the spiritual where they floated together.

And in time, he lay down beside her and she nestled close to him. He took deep breaths to slow his racing heart and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. He glanced around to see if the world reflected the huge shift in his own life, but only the fire had burned down to embers to mark the passage of time.

They'd completed the initiation. The Soleil Wheel on his chest lay cool and dormant. She was safe from Crawdaddy or any other. And they were alive.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She was
his
bride. She was now part of his Sun Rattler clan. And those facts made all the other considerations pale in comparison.

She nuzzled against his neck. “That was the most incredible experience of my life.”

“Mine, too.”

“Really?” She rose up on an elbow and looked at him. “How? Why?”

He gazed up at her face. “I love you.”

“Oh.” Tears flooded her violet eyes. “I never thought to hear you say that.”

“Why?”

“I've never been loved by a man.”

He pulled her down to him by the silver chain that still bound them. “I'll show you what it means to be thoroughly loved by a man.”