Fire Rising (Dark Kings) (14 page)

BOOK: Fire Rising (Dark Kings)
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She clung to him as his mouth kissed and licked to her ear. “It warms beneath my hand.”

“Hmm. That’s no’ all that’s hot for you.”

Sammi shivered as he took her mouth in a possessive, dominating kiss. His hand slid sensuously down her back to cup her butt and bring her against his thick arousal.

He then brought both of her arms above her head as he leaned back, their eyes locking. Sammi couldn’t pull in a breath because her body ached for him. With one kiss he had her trembling, needy.

Utterly infatuated.

His hands caressed down her arms leisurely, leaving a path of heat in his wake. Dark eyes, fathomless and full of promise, held her pinned, daring her to give in.

As if she had any choice. They had been on this road since she imagined she dreamed him. Now he was standing before her, his lips wet with their kisses.

“So damned beautiful,” he whispered.

Sammi sucked in a breath when his hands traveled to her breasts and lightly stroked the underside before cupping them, as if testing their weight.

Her nipples hardened, an ache settling low in her belly. He continued teasing her while he learned her by following her sides to her waist and then her hips.

For several seconds they simply looked at each other. Sammi had never felt such desire, such overwhelming hunger for another before. She reached for him the same instant he grabbed her.

They came together in a tangle of limbs and lips as they kissed frantically, madly. Senselessly.

Desire, fierce and savage, consumed them. Nothing mattered, nothing existed but the two of them and the ever-growing attraction.

The kiss deepened, pulling her further and further down into his seduction, into the passion. Into the pleasure that awaited them.

The back of her legs hit the bed, but before she could fall back, Tristan tightened his arms and lifted her off her feet as he kneeled on the bed. Then, slowly, all the while kissing her senselessly, he lay her down.

His weight atop her was a heady thing. She barely had time to enjoy it before he shifted down her body and closed his lips around her nipples.

Sammi gasped, her hands flying to his head to hold him as he teased and tantalized until her breasts were swollen and her nipples aching points.

Only then did he lift his head and kiss her. She rocked her hips against him, needing the contact to ease the need pushing her.

He slid a hand between them and spread her legs to expose her sex. The cool air washed over her. She fisted the covers in her hand when his fingers delved between her legs and parted her curls.

Her back arched when he dipped a finger inside her. Desire tightened, coiling with each touch, and bringing her closer to the edge.

Then he touched her clit. Sammi let out a low moan when he circled the swollen nub. The pleasure was unlike anything she’d ever felt. No one touched her like Tristan.

She whispered his name when his tongue flicked over her clitoris. Time stood still as he brought her higher and higher as his tongue licked and laved.

When the climax struck, Sammi wasn’t prepared. She screamed at the intense impact as it swept her, seized her, taking her to a place she had only dreamed existed.

Tristan watched the flush cover her skin as the orgasm claimed her. He had never seen anything so stunning, nor had he ever held anyone so amazing in his arms before.

With her body still trembling from her climax, Tristan wrapped her legs around him and gathered her against him as he sat up.

Her powder blue eyes were glossy, her lips parted as her chest heaved. But she looked at him as if he was everything she could ever want.

The worries of his past, of his future, and what he was meant to do were forgotten as he sank into her gaze. She erased all his doubt, all his burdens.

And in their place was her.

Sammi.

She filled every empty space inside him, spaces he hadn’t known existed until she had come along and pierced him with her beautiful eyes.

“Tristan,” she said in a voice husky with passion.

He pulled her onto her knees as she hovered over his throbbing cock. Tristan hissed in a breath when she rubbed her sex across the tip of his arousal. Electric currents of need and desire sparked through him, setting his already heated blood to blaze.

His hold tightened and he claimed her lips in another kiss. He couldn’t stop touching or kissing her. She was like a drug, and once he’d had a taste, he needed more.

All thought halted when she gradually slid her tight, wet sheath down his cock. He didn’t release his breath until she was fully seated.

Then the only thing that filled his mind was imprinting himself fully and unconditionally upon her. He wanted her mind wiped of any other man that had come before him—and any who dared to come after.

Tristan held her hips as he shifted his body. They stared wordlessly into each other’s eyes as he rocked his hips slowly. Her hard nipples grazed his chest, causing him to moan. Unable to hold off, he pinched a nipple and heard her suck in a breath before she groaned and rotated her hips.

That’s all it took to push him past the point of no return. He flipped her onto her back and set his hands on either side of her head. He pulled out of her, and then gave a hard thrust as he sank deep.

She whimpered, her nails digging into his arms. Again and again he filled her, taking them higher, pushing them further. A sheen of sweat covered them, desire consumed them.

Her body was pliant, giving, eager. He tried to hold back a wildness that rose up in him for the first time, and each time he pulled back, she held tighter.

The rhythm increased as he plunged inside her tight body again and again, going deeper, driving harder. The wildness, a madness that seemed to be centered around her, took him again.

He wanted to pound into her, marking her as his for everyone to see. The ferocity of it caught him off guard, and he once more pulled back.

“No,” she begged as she held him in place.

She couldn’t understand the part of him that wanted to break free, a part he had never encountered before—a part that could hurt her.

Her hips rose to meet his thrusts, her soft moans turning to cries as she called his name over and over.

Tristan was powerless to deny her or his body. He gripped her hip with one hand and plunged mercilessly. The harder and deeper he thrust, the more she took.

The first convulsion of her body around his cock as she climaxed sent him spiraling into his own orgasm. He filled her once more as his seed poured inside her and her tight walls milked him.

A bubble of peace, of pure bliss surrounded them as they fell in a tangle of limbs, content to be in each other’s arms.

*   *   *

Banan strode wearily into the manor. He hadn’t taken two steps inside when a form blocked his way. He looked up into Con’s enraged face.

“You went to see Ulrik.”

It wasn’t a question, and Banan didn’t treat it as such. “I did.”

He walked around Con into the parlor and poured himself a serving of whisky. Before he put the stopper in the crystal decanter, he poured himself more.

Then he lifted the glass and drained the entire thing.

“I take it things didna go well,” Con said from the doorway.

Banan glanced at him to see his arms crossed, his face set in a neutral mask of indifference. Banan knew better. He knew the efforts Con had gone to in order that no Dragon King had contact with Ulrik.

And frankly he didn’t care how pissed off the King of Kings was.

“I forbade any of you from seeing Ulrik.”

Con might be the King of Kings, but he didn’t make decisions for individual Dragon Kings. He tried, and some even listened to Con most of the time.

Other times, the Kings did as they wanted.

The only exception was when it came to protecting Dreagan and their secret. In that, all Dragon Kings were united.

“Con, I say this with the deepest sincerity. Fuck off.”

Banan didn’t wait for a reply as he poured more whisky.

“What did he tell you?” Con asked.

Banan wasn’t distracted by the soft tone. That’s usually when Con was the angriest. He looked up at Constantine and raised his glass in salute. “He refused to help.”

“I could’ve told you that.”

“You could’ve, but I had to try. I know you can no’ possibly understand that.”

Con dropped his arms and pushed away from the doorway. “I understand perfectly.”

“Do you? I doubt it. And it doesna matter. Sammi is still in danger, which means so is Jane, and I’ll do anything to protect what’s mine.”

Con’s black eyes grew cold. “As will I.”

“Have you seen Ulrik?” Banan asked as Con started to walk away.

Con jerked as he halted and then faced Banan. “Of course.”

“Nay. Have you really seen him?”

“If you mean have I spoken with him, that would be nay. I doona bother to get close enough to exchange words.”

“He’s no’ the same man,” Banan said as he set down his empty glass and walked to the doorway next to Con. “He’s … hard, cruel. Fierce.”

Con lifted a blond brow. “Your point?”

“He wants revenge. And I think he’s going to get it.”

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tristan was laughing as he sat next to his brother. Ian made another joke that had everyone at the table in the great hall doubled over in laughter.

“See? I told you I’m funnier than you, Duncan,” Ian said as he elbowed him.

Tristan’s eyes snapped open. He stared at the ceiling as he pulled reality to him. He lay on his back with Sammi snuggled against him. Sweat beaded his skin as the memory floated through his mind like a leaf on the wind.

And it was a memory.

It hadn’t been a dream. He could still feel the wood of the table beneath his hands and how it was scraped and scratched from centuries of use.

He could still hear everyone’s laughter. Tristan touched his side where Ian’s elbow had connected with his rib. It tingled, as if it had just happened.

Tristan pulled his arm from beneath Sammi and sat up. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hands through his hair. It had seemed as real as the room around him.

The lights from the many candelabras and torches, the heat from the fire from the huge fireplace, the ale upon his lips.

What was going on? Why were these memories plaguing him now after two years? What did they want with him? And what was he going to do about it?

He stood and silently opened a drawer from the bureau and took out another pair of jeans. At the door he paused and looked at the bed. Sammi was sprawled out, a hand lying palm up as if she were reaching for him.

But who was she reaching for? Was he Tristan? Was he Duncan? Or was he someone else? His head began to pound as he tried to unravel the knots of his past.

Then he began to wonder if he should. Perhaps his past was knotted to keep him from learning something he’d rather not know.

Tristan briefly closed his eyes as he realized he couldn’t figure any of it out with Sammi around. She confused him even more, clouding his mind to anything but lust and complicating his decisions.

He’d known it was better to stay away from her. After having her in his arms, after marking her, he wouldn’t be able to keep from touching her. And right now with his past seeming to blur with lines of the present, he might just put her in danger.

Tristan walked out of the bedroom and then out of the house. He stopped once he was outside, his face lifted to the sky.

Life had been relatively uncomplicated a few days ago. He might have been dealing with Ian wanting to meet him, but there had been no memories of his past life, no confusion over what he was supposed to do or why he had become a Dragon King.

“Hey, handsome.”

He cringed when he heard Rhi’s voice. The Fae had a way of always being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had helped save Kellan and Denae as well as Sammi.

Tristan shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Hi, yourself.”

“I expected you to look … content, happy even after your
alone time
with Sammi, not all mopey and depressed. You didn’t screw up, did you? Don’t all Kings make love perfectly?”

He heard the teasing in her voice, but he couldn’t manage to even crack a smile. “It was as near to perfect with her as I suspect it can get.”

Rhi came to stand in front of him, a deep frown marring her forehead when she looked at his face. “Damn, handsome. You look like hell.”

“At least I look how I feel.” He shook his head.

Every fiber of his being wanted him to return to Sammi, to crawl back in that bed and take her body again. To forget who he was or whatever he was supposed to be.

But protecting her required his mind be clear of everything. It was so muddied now he wasn’t sure which way was up. “What are you doing here?”

Rhi shrugged and walked back to her seat on the stone wall. “Thinking.”

“At Dreagan? I thought this would be the last place you wanted to be.”

There was a faint smile as she shifted her gaze to look at the mountains. “It is, and yet at one time it was my favorite place to be. You think you finally find something worth keeping, something that could never be taken from you, something that will keep your world steady. And then it’s yanked away, snatched right from your hands. The rightness, the completeness you felt seems like a distant memory as you drift through time.”

“You loved him deeply.”

There was a beat of silence, a sadness so profound that it weighted the air. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Tristan knew it was a rare event for Rhi to talk about her Dragon King lover. He wanted to know who it was, but he knew better than to ask. Not now, at least. “How long ago did you lose him?”

“Hundreds of lifetimes ago. Sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

“Is that why you’re here? You want to be close to the memories you have?”

Her silver eyes caught the light of the moon, making them look metallic. “No. I’m here because I need quiet to think. And because it never hurts to have someone else help keep watch other than him,” she said and pointed to the sky as Laith flew overhead, the black of his dragon blending effortlessly with the night.

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