Fire's Touch (The Enlightened Species Book Three) (25 page)

Conlon had known Queen Della his entire life. He respected her, but right now, she pissed him off. “I apologize for bothering you at such a busy time, Your Majesty. I just heard about the mating from Princess Cassiopeia. Since Matalina is my partner in the SOSC and our families have a long relationship, might you allow my bloodmate-to-be and I to escort Cassiopeia and attend the ceremony?” He sucked at the
formal speaking
shit.

The Queen sat silent on the line. Her cordial response felt genuine. “I will have the tunnel ready for your arrival. Your mother would be so happy to see you bloodmated, Conlon. The Fates blessings to you.” She didn’t wait for him to return the salutation before releasing the line.

“Thank you, Conlon.” Cassie sighed with relief and leaned back into the chair next to his bed, where Stacey sat perched. In procuring an invitation to the wedding, he’d assured Queen Della that Cassie would come by his escort. The queen had released Cassie of the summons based on Conlon’s reputation of honor.

Stacey stood and rubbed her hands together. “I’m picking your dress. If you have to go, you’re going in style. That means you too, Conlon.”

His eyes lifted to the photo she’d taken, developed and framed on the bedroom wall of him naked. In the last few weeks, she’d taken over his basement sparring area and turned it into an office/darkroom/painting area. Stacey’s artistic abilities ranged to more than her tattoo. And it seemed Conlon naked was her new obsession.

“Nice picture.” Cassie chuckled, following his inadvertent line of sight.

Conlon glared at an unrepentant Stacey. She snorted. “You know, he actually tried to take it down once.”

Her cell phone rang on the dresser, thankfully saving Conlon from having to hear her regale Cassie with what happened when he moved the photo, only to find it remounted on the outside of the front door when he came home later. Stacey had made her point loud and clear. He returned the photo to the bedroom. Neither of them had said a word to each other about any of it.

Stacey placed her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone. “How much time do we have?”

Cassie’s expression paled a little at Stacey’s reminder. “With the time difference between here and ho—there … about five hours.”

Stacey shoved her phone toward Conlon. “It’s one of my attorneys … handle it for me. And if anyone else calls, tell them I’m out.”

Conlon had “handled” quite a few of Stacey’s calls lately. He knew the idea of replacing Mark broke her heart, though she hadn’t said it. He took the phone. “I’ll let them know you’re retired and to stop calling you.” She scowled, rolled her eyes and turned to Cassie, dismissing him. Damn, she was a pistol … and he loved that about her.

He closed the door behind him, giving the girls privacy. “Conlon.” The attorney never questioned his authorization to speak on Stacey’s behalf. The mingling of their lives had become as natural as breathing. And yet …

Conlon paced his living room like an animal caged with the phone to his ear. He’d spent weeks of waiting for Stacey to say the words, to definitively choose him, while being forced to watch Mick’s growing relationship with both Stacey and Johnny. He admired Stacey’s support of Mick through what must be a difficult time, but seeing the two together without yet claiming Stacey for his own … maddening. Maddening to witness them laughing together over Johnny’s antics, cheering when Johnny called Mick “Da” the first time, or flipping a coin over which would feed the child at naptime. Johnny was a lucky boy to have both his parents’ iron-rich and ready to satisfy his anemia.

Many times he’d nearly asked Stacey to be his bloodmate.
“You know, if you’d simply ask …”
He thought it had to be her choice, especially since Mick was the father of her child. Conlon found releasing her from his arms every morning after making love to her and holding her through the night more and more difficult as the days lagged on. The need for her blood, the primal call of their bloodmate bond grew harder to deny, and his feral instincts more difficult to control.

“I’ll let Ms. Winkel know it’s taken care of.” Conlon snapped Stacey’s phone closed, ending the call with a shake of his head. Mick’s apartment was on the fourth floor. Stacey had grumbled about it being “not safe for a child,” but until last night, Conlon had had no idea she’d purchased adjacent land and contracted a home to be built. Was it for Mick? He wondered if Mick knew about the anonymously created, large bank account yet. Stacey had used the SOSC to disguise the money as an unclaimed inheritance from Eros’s deceased brother, who was Mick’s grandfather, Tenebrae.

The land purchase didn’t really surprise him. Conlon had learned that Stacey’s charities were more diverse than her holdings.
It’s not truly
giving
if you
get
recognition in return,
she had answered when he’d asked why she remained anonymous in everything she did for people. Her generosity was boundless.

He continued to pace, waiting for the girls to finish up while his desire for Stacey ratcheted up with every minute.

Cassie floated down the stairs. “Wow,” Conlon blurted.

The pure silk, light-yellow color of the strapless gown coupled with a necklace of brown topaz made the burnt orange of Cassie’s eyes undeniably brighter. The lightweight material clung from her breasts to the top curve of her hips and then flowed to her feet. Her hair, worn loose, reached the back of her thighs. It had been straightened and shone under the light of the hallway.

She smiled. “You’re up, Conlon. Get ready for the
fashionista
.”

****

“Damn it, Conlon,” Stacey snapped, loving the feel of his arms wrapped around her from behind. His hands were at her breasts and her nipples hardened, betraying her body’s response. “We’re supposed to be getting ready for a mating, remember?”

His hand went to the zipper of the simple black satin dress she’d just put on. He unzipped it slowly, nipping at her neck; a low growl of demand sent a shiver down her spine. “Then you don’t have time to argue with me.”

The material pooled at her ankles. “Fine.” She chuckled, leaning over the counter as moisture pooled between her legs. “How are you at a quickie?”

Conlon pinched her bare bottom and caressed the sting, and spun her around to face him. “Aw, female, you are never to be rushed. You are to be savored.” His lips captured hers as he lifted her to the counter. “Adored.” His lips blazed a trail down her neck. “Lavished.” He took first one then the other of her nipples into his mouth. Slow, lazy circles of his tongue had her fingers buried in his hair, holding him to her. The aching need for him to be inside her had her begging. “What do you want, Leifde?” he growled and moved lower. His breath teased her weeping folds.

“You’re a deviant,” her voice purred. Her body became liquid fire with his touch. Every time they made love, the connection between them grew stronger.

In reward, his tongue lashed her tender bundle of nerves and she cried out. Stacey felt like the receptive canvass to the art of his lovemaking. Her body grew tight with anticipation, lost to the overwhelming sensations he invoked, balanced at the cusp of release. He took her from zero the “right there” effortlessly.

He stood and grasped the back of her neck. Lips wet from her moisture took hers hard, demanding. The taste of her essence on his tongue was an empowering aphrodisiac to her already swollen libido. He penetrated her with a single hard thrust and Stacey cried out, breaking the kiss. Her womb clenched and heat ignited every nerve ending as he pounded her core. Her climax expanded and burst, leaving her weightless and adrift on a sensory cloud of pulsing, throbbing heaven on earth. Fates, he was a god in the sack.

She opened her eyes. Conlon had lifted his chin toward the ceiling. His rapid breath sawed past the bloody dentes still fully erupted behind his full, kiss-bruised, punctured lips. Her chest constricted with emotion at the sight of him at his most primal. Why didn’t he ask her? What was he waiting for? She wanted to bloodmate with him, yet they’d danced around the subject since learning Mick was Johnny’s father. Every time they did try to talk about it, they were interrupted.

His dentes retracted slowly and he gave her a cocked grin. “It is your fault if we are late.”

Stacey laughed and slapped his chest. “Get off me, you insatiable brute. I need to fix my hair. You better not dribble sperm on my dress either. Your suit is on the bed.”

He withdrew, laughing. “I’m not wearing a suit.”

Stacey turned from the mirrored view of the disaster he’d turned her hair into with her hands on her hip. “Yes, you are.” A few strokes with a brush brought her hair under control.

“Nope.” He pulled a pair of black jeans out of the drawer and slid them up his mouth-watering thighs.

Stacey had to pull her mind back to the conversation. “Don’t make me light everything you own on fire.”

“You like my ass better in jeans, admit it,” he whispered in her ear.

As frustrating as Conlon was, he was also right. “Fine. At least wear the jacket. Smokey gray brings out your eyes.” She pulled her dress on … again, and he zipped it up for her. Luckily the time on the floor hadn’t wrinkled it too badly. His fingers floated over the curve of her neck and her eyes fluttered closed. He had the most sensual touch.

“That’s
almost
perfect.”

Stacey opened her eyes to see a sapphire and diamond necklace at her neck. It sparkled in the sunlight. The last person to buy her jewelry had been her father. Stacey touched it reverently. “It
is
perfect.”

Conlon took her hand from the necklace and clipped on a bracelet of white gold with diamond-encircled sapphires. “Now, it’s perfect.”

Stacey had never seen anything more beautiful. Her heart burst with love. Jewels had been so much a part of her life before the reality of rogues, but her parents’ murder and the breeding cages had fragmented her innocence into a million sharp pieces.

“Where … when?” She couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat.

Conlon hugged her. “The jewels were my mothers, but I had them placed into a setting that I hoped you would like.”

“Conlon.”
Shitshitshit
. She had to say it. “You know I’ve fallen for you, right?” Sort of say it.

“Ditto.” He whispered in her ear. “You ready?” Did he mean to go to the mating or to mate with him …

“Yes.” To both questions.

His growling rumble in his chest vibrated her breasts deliciously. “Do you choose me?” Happiness, excitement, and anticipation sent butterflies through her. She nodded against his shoulder. Over the last weeks, they’d learned to say a lot without really talking. He just got her somehow. In his arms, all the fears and self-protection mechanisms she’d spent five years erecting crumbled.

“When this mating is over, will you come with me to my ancestral home?” He seemed to hold his breath. He didn’t need to say more for her to know what he was really asking. Finally.

Stacey lifted to her toes, wishing she’d worn higher heels, and kissed him lightly. “I will,” she whispered.

Chapter Twenty-One

Stacey will be mine, my bloodmate
. His dentes hadn’t stopped throbbing since she said yes. The only thing he wanted to do was shred that dress and sink into her vein and sheath. Patience wasn’t one of his strong suits, and by fuck he’d waited long enough.

With Cassie trailing behind them, Conlon whispered to Stacey. “Where the hell did you find Cassie’s gown?”
Because if we don’t do some blah, blah talk, I will lose my mind.
Conlon grasped at something to get his head in the now.

Stacey gave him a devious smile as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “It’s actually one I wore at fourteen, before the goddess of curves had her go at me. I ported to my childhood bedroom in Amsterdam to get it.”

Amsterdam?
“Are you okay?” She’d avoided her family’s estate for five years, yet when her friend needed something, she didn’t hesitate to face the painful memories to get it. The idea of her, first, going alone, and second … going alone shriveled his balls.

“I’m going to list it for sale.” Her voice trembled. “It will never be the same to me. I should have done it years ago.”

It took three chortal hops before they emerged at the edge of the Black Sea.
Home.
He drew in a deep breath of the sea, the flavor of nuts and spices infusing the air.

A few yards from the shore stood a grove of walnut trees that stretched from the edge of the distant city, past where they stood and beyond for as far as he could see. The healthy giant trees created a plush, shady carpet of thick ferns beneath them. The loud cry of birds drew his attention to the sea behind them. A group of large birds skimmed above the vast body of water. Their wide wing spans glided their bodies for hundreds of yards before the bird had to make any effort for lift.

Stacey watched their flight in awe. “What are they?”

Conlon couldn’t contain his happiness. “Man o’ wars.” One close to them opened his long bill and the lower portion cut through the sea before snapping shut, trapping a good-sized fish. A single hard flap of its wings lifted the bird ten feet higher into the air. “Before Volaticus enlightened and learned of the Fates, our forefathers believed we were descendants of those birds.”

“So is there a nest of Volaticus here?”

Conlon shook his head. “Not any more. There used to be tens of thousands between here and the destroyed Island of Atlantis off the coast of Jerusalem. Now there are a few SOSC outposts and several families like mine that still call this area home. Both the Alba and Aleen Tellus colonies live under this territory. Humans used to think they were female tribes of Amazonian warriors.”

“I’ve met nearly as many male Tellus as female. That myth doesn’t make any sense.” Stacey glanced at Cassie as if sizing her Tellus friend up in comparison to the myth.

Conlon shook his head. “Yes and no. Growing up with the local colonies, you learn that the Tellus males are deadly, but they are usually outnumbered by females, in some colonies by ten to one. Their royalty have different protocols that I don’t fully understand,” Conlon said, watching Cassie roll her eyes, “but a common Tellus male has a harem of females that will call him for service when they’re fertile. Demographically there are more female warriors then male.”