Knight Awakened (Circle of Seven #1) (11 page)

Mine?
Or rather,
his
? What the devil did that mean?

“Ah, Xavian, I think mayhap...” She trailed off, catching a glimpse of movement in her periphery. Three stable lads, pitchforks hanging from limp hands, gaped at them, mouths wide open. Wonderful. Now they had an audience. She glanced at Xavian, knowing he wouldn’t approve. He was having some sort of breakdown, and no man worth his weight would relish witnesses for that.

Afina hung on as he took a sharp right at the end of the aisle. Two strides later, and he’d walked them through a doorway and into the tack room beyond. Sacks of grain occupied one corner,
fat companions to the array of bridles hanging on the chamber walls. The long leather strips hovered above saddle horses, some in use, some patiently awaiting the weight of their next charge. With little room to maneuver, Xavian stopped in the center of the room and, one arm still around her, dropped her feet to the floor.

As she found her balance, he murmured, “
La dracu
, you feel good...so warm.”

The whispered words tickled the side of her neck then rolled like a dark wave down her spine. His voice was decadent. The resonance one of perfect pitch; deep enough to tie her up, light enough to make her want to relax and trust and give. But two years of running—of Vladimir—had ruined any chance of that.

Her hands flat against his chest, she pushed, needing distance. He tightened his grip, shackling her against him while he inhaled, burrowing deep to press his lips to her pulse point.

The contact—mouth to neck, skin to skin—hit her like a thunderstorm, and heat gathered with an alarming rumble. “I, ah...Are you all right?”

“I’m so cold inside...so cold.”

Cold? Afina frowned and rubbed his upper arms. Odd, he didn’t feel chilled. He radiated heat, a pleasant warmth that roped hard muscle and enlivened the surface of his skin. A fever mayhap? That would explain his strange behavior. She’d seen it many times. The crazed look in glazed-over eyes, the chill deep inside a person even though they burned with sickness. A terrible fear gripped her. Was Xavian’s infection out of hand? Was this the beginning of the blood disease that so frightened her?

If he suffered from the ailment, she needed to know...right now. Her healing satchel was woefully in need of restocking, and
without the proper herbs he would suffer before the poison ran its course and his body fought it off or—

No, she refused to think like that. He was strong. She wouldn’t allow him to die...refused to fail him like she’d done her sister.

“Xavian, look at me,” she said, her tone tight.

One arm nestled against her back, he buried his free hand in her unbound hair, pulling her flush against him. Her fingers curled, and finding the edge of his sleeveless tunic, she shook him. He raised his head, blue eyes glowing with heat that had nothing to do with a fever. Afina froze. She felt her eyes widen and heard her lips part on a strangled gasp. Could he be...what...Good goddess, was he—

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” He cupped her cheek with a warrior-rough palm. Holding her there, his gaze half-searched, half-pleaded as he leaned in and kissed her, whisper-soft. “Please,
draga
. Warm me...make me forget the cold for a while.”

Afina’s breath got tangled up in the back of her throat. Wonder nipped at her, drowning out the little voice that whispered a warning. Somewhere deep inside she knew she should listen, heed the kernel of fear coiling low in her belly. But the fact he wanted her—the way a man did a woman—trumped good sense, spinning her into a world filled with new possibilities.

She wanted them all, craved the moment of freedom. Longed to let loose, and just once, do what she wanted instead of pleasing someone else.

And Xavian? His desire was the perfect foil.

Without shame or seduction, he asked, leaving the outcome up to her. But what to do...accept his touch or deny her yearning? Ignoring the lust-filled ache would be safer, but curiosity was a powerful thing. And as she stared into his eyes, blue as the Danube, warm as a hot spring, she remembered Bianca.
Ever since her sister had danced across their small cottage, Afina had wondered about her secret meetings with Bodgan. Her enjoyment had been obvious, a curious splendor that had left Afina dissatisfied with her own life.

The restlessness hit her full force. It wasn’t fair that everyone knew joy except her. Life had dealt her a series of denials, but not today. Today was about her, about what she needed—what she wanted—and for once, she followed desire, titled her chin up and invited his kiss.

Xavian struggled to draw a full breath. Holy hell, Afina was going to let him. Allow him to lay her down and touch her soft skin, love her the way he wanted—needed—to. He could tell by the way she moved, that subtle shift in weight that brought her a wee bit closer, and the color...Jesu help him, the color. The sweet wave of crimson washed over her cheekbones, a hot rush of feminine arousal that almost leveled him where he stood.

Held fast by her physical response, he swallowed as her eyes dropped, shielding her thoughts behind her lashes. The downward sweep of her gaze branded him, the invisible caress making him squirm while her fingers played across his already too-hot skin.

He was going to come. Right now. In his leathers before he ever got the chance to touch her.

The decadent dreams that plagued his nights front and center in his mind, Xavian pictured her splayed beneath him, wrapped around him, spine arched, mouth open as she screamed in ecstasy.
Rahat.
He needed to pull himself together. If he didn’t, he’d never get to hear that scream. He’d be finished so fast he’d
cut her pleasure short. And he craved her bliss as much as his own, yearned to give her every bit of what he’d imagined her capable of beneath him. Or atop him. Hell, he didn’t care. He’d give her whatever she asked, however she wanted, just as long as he ended up deep inside her.

Just the thought...of her...of him...

A wicked rush swept through him. Xavian groaned, his whole body straining against his fast-slipping control.

“Shh, ’tis all right,” she said, the husky tenor of her voice stringing him even tighter. “Here. Let me warm you.”

And just like that, the dam broke.

His control split wide open, leaving nothing but need in its wake. The rush rolled over him, and before he knew what hit him he was inside her mouth. Kissing her deep, his tongue stroked along her teeth and...Jesu. She tasted better than he’d imagined, a feast of delight without end. And he wanted more. Wanted to savor every bit of her until he glutted himself and left her weak with satiation.

Full of fire, the heat in his veins boiled over as his hands roamed. He explored every curve, caressing her in long, sweeping strokes, unable to decide what he liked best: her sweetly rounded ass, the nip at her waist, or the bounty of her breasts. Hell, he loved every part of her, but settled on the last, slipping his hand between their bodies to cup one of the pair. With a gasp, she twisted against him. He let go of her mouth, eager to watch her as he played with the tightly furled nipple.

She arched and, eyes closed, threw her head back. Unable to resist the invitation, Xavian lowered his head, kissing the curve of her neck as he cupped the lush curve of her behind. Her moan joined his groan, and walking her backward, he headed for the large grain sacks piled in the corner of the chamber. He couldn’t
wait to lie her down, to get at her soft skin and the wet heat between her thighs.

But not like this. Not while he was armed to the teeth and fully clothed.

With a flick, he undid the buckle securing his sword harness and slipped free of the twin blades. As they hit the floor beside the burlap sacks, he returned to her mouth, hungry for more as he attacked the side lacing of his tunic. The instant he was free, he raised his head. Afina whimpered, tightening her grip in his hair as if protesting his departure. He smiled a little, lighter of heart than he’d ever remembered being, then returned, nipping her softly before sliding his tongue between her lips. She sighed, the sound so arousing his shaft throbbed, impatient for the feel of her.

God, she wanted him. ’Twas a miracle, a precious gift that tugged at the tight knot always riding in the center of his chest. He felt himself unravel, slip from gentle to greedy in a heartbeat. Ferocious with need, he cupped her shoulders, released her mouth, and gave her a push. As she tumbled back against the bags of grain, he lifted the leather tunic over his head and tossed it aside.

Landing in a delicious sprawl, color high, hazel eyes wide, she stared up at him.

“Unlace for me,
draga
,” he said, aware his tone was more plea than command. “Give yourself to me.”

Surprise flared in her eyes. Afina blinked, and Xavian prayed she understood what he was asking. He needed to know she was certain, willing to take him all the way without regret or reprisal. Doubt held no place between them. If she harbored any second thoughts, he had to know now...while he was still able to walk away. Once he touched her, there would be no going back.

She hesitated, her attention straying to his bare chest. He held his breath, forcing himself to endure her scrutiny without moving. After what seemed an eternity, she brought her hands to the lacing running down the front of her gown. The tidy bow sitting atop her breasts gave way and his knees almost followed suit. He locked them to remain standing and watched as she drew the folds wide then toyed with the string holding her chemise closed. The corners of her mouth curved, her focus steady on him, she played, wrapping the tie around her fingertip and pulled...a wee bit, but not enough to expose what lay hidden beneath.

Xavian raised a brow, relishing the playful taunt. “Enjoy teasing, do you?”

“Mayhap...” Her tongue peeked out, leaving a moist trail on her bottom lip. “With you.”

He inhaled hard, loving her response. She understood both her power and appeal. And was prepared to torture him with both. The realization cranked him higher and, unable to hold back, he unlaced his trews and joined her on their makeshift bed. She sighed, burying her hand in his hair, arching against him, bringing him flush into her. As he groaned and settled against her, Xavian murmured to her, praising her welcome, her softness, her desire for him.

Afina hummed and tipped her chin, begging for his kiss. But as much as he wanted to taste her again, Xavian needed something else more. He wanted to see her, touch her, hold the soft, warm weight of her in his hands. So instead of kissing her, he did what she hadn’t and released the tie holding her chemise. His heart hammering like he’d run flat out for a mile, he pushed the linen wide.

Sweet Jesu.
She was perfect.

The most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege to lay eyes upon.

“Afina,” he murmured, awe in his tone, hand sliding beneath the folds of linen.

Her breath caught as he cupped her, covering her pretty pink nipple with the heat of his palm. The bud furled tighter at the contact, and she twisted a little, as if shocked...as though unaccustomed to being touched. The reaction told him plainly she didn’t accept men with ease—or very often.

His heart went loose in his chest and a burning rush of tenderness lit him up from the inside out. Precious. She was precious. Someone to be cherished and cared for. Someone for his warrior soul to shield and protect. The depth of emotion startled him a bit, but he took no notice, his happiness that she had chosen him to please her too strong to deny.

Dipping his head, he set his mouth to the soft place between her breasts then turned to kiss the tight bud of her nipple. She started, twitching before arching beneath him, begging for more. He hummed, the sound one of satisfaction, and licked the pebbled peak. Her hands flexed in his hair, drawing him closer as he sucked, lightly. God, she was sensitive, exquisitely so. “Been a while, hasn’t it,
draga
?”

She whispered his name.

The husky entreaty unleashed him, washing every thought from his head. With a growl, he shoved her skirt up, pushed her legs wide, and settled between their spread. Hitching her knee around his hip, he caressed the inside of her thigh on a steady upward slide. The instant he found her heat, his shaft thumped in his trews.

God give him strength.
She was so wet, so soft, so unbelievably hot. He couldn’t wait. She was ready, and his greed, out of control. He needed inside. Now.

Stroking the nub at the top of her sex, he waited until she caught his rhythm then set himself to her entrance and thrust, embedding himself to the hilt. She stiffened, a wild cry rippling from her throat. Xavian froze. What the hell? He’d hurt her. That terrible whimper was one of pain, not pleasure.

He reared, concern stilling his heart until the only noise he heard was the hitching sob of her breath. He cupped her face, smoothed the furrow between her brows with his thumb and tried to think. What had he done wrong? Desperate to soothe her, he brushed the hair away from her face and adjusted his position in hopes of easing her.

As she quieted, he replayed his entry. He shook his head. Nay, ’twas not possible. She...she was...she had a child, for Christ’s sake. But the physical evidence overrode what he believed to be true. He’d felt the membrane tear, the one that confirmed she was untouched.