Lucien's Khamsin (27 page)

“Feel me in you,” he said. “I am a part of you, a part that will forever be there.”

Warmth spread through Khamsin and filled her with a joy she could never have imagined. His strong arms were around her. She felt protected, treasured and—aye, she could say it—needed—by the man lying with her.

He turned with her still locked in his arms until she was lying above him, their loins still clinging together as though with a mind of their own.

“I want to make you a part of me, now,” he said. “I want your life juices flowing through my veins.”

Khamsin was looking into his eyes and she could see the hunger for her invading his green gaze. His lips were slightly parted and he looked vulnerable, almost as though he expected her to deny him. She tilted her head to one side.

“I could never deny you anything, my love,” she said and swept aside her hair, exposing her neck to him. “Take what you want from me. It is freely offered and given only to you.”

Lucien’s heart swelled at her words and he felt tears pulsing in his eyes. She was giving him not only her love, her passion, but her trust and that was something he knew she did not give lightly. Never would he do anything to lose that trust, for she was as dear to him as the air he breathed and now just as necessary to his existence.

“Take my blood, Luc,” she said, leaning over him so her throat was almost at his lips. “Make me that part of you that can never fade.”

With gentle care he flicked out his tongue to taste her flesh and quivered at the sensation that rippled through him. The scent of her filled his nostrils and the pulsing throb of her flesh drew him like a drowning man to a life raft. He could not take his eyes from the hollow at the base of her throat and when he eased his lips over that sweet notch, he felt heat pooling low in his groin. Cautiously, very tenderly, he slid his lips to the side of her neck.

Khamsin heard the slight rasp of his fangs extending. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for the prick of those sharp points. When he scraped against her flesh, she drew in a breath and held it until she felt the gentle sting of the puncture—first one then the other—entering her throat.

Her blood was sweet and warm, and filled with the purest of tastes that rocked Lucien to his foundation. Nothing could have prepared him for the experience. It was like a high-powered aphrodisiac trickling into his mouth and he drank greedily, careful not to suck upon her tender flesh but to extract the crimson drug with the greatest care.

Khamsin’s hands were buried in his hair, massaging his scalp. Her head was thrown back to give him access to her pulsing flesh. She felt his cock slip out of her and groaned, wanting, needing, desperately desiring that intimate contact between them.

Lucien withdrew his fangs and licked at the tiny drops that remained on her flesh. He ached to be inside her for his cock was stirring into hardness once more. The sweet sensation of her blood on his lips was drawing from him emotions he had thought long dead and he wanted nothing more than to share the ecstasy with her.

“You must taste me, Beloved,” he said. “I want to be in you as you are in me.”

Khamsin opened her eyes and looked down at him, hesitation showing on her face.

“It is such an easy thing to do,” he whispered and reached up to drag his thumbnail across his jugular. A fine line appeared then bright blood began seeping from the cut.

“Think of your fangs growing then use them to pierce my neck,” he told her.

“I don’t think I can!” she said, somewhat uneasy with the notion.

“Don’t think, Beloved,” he said. “Just do it.”

She hovered there for a moment above him, staring at the thin line of blood easing down the side of his neck. She licked her lips, her heart pounding.

“Lucien, I don’t…”

“What is mine is yours,” he said. “I wish to share everything with you.”

Pushing aside a moment of distaste, she did as he asked and felt a supreme moment of power as the fangs exploded into her mouth. Running her tongue along the tip of their sharpness, she wasn’t sure she could take blood from Lucien’s neck.

“Share my life with me, wench,” he said. “Share my love.”

Without giving herself another moment to contemplate what she was about to do, she leaned down and sank her newly discovered fangs into Lucien’s strong neck. She drew on his flesh—a bit squeamish at first but the warm flow of his powerful blood soon claimed her and she drank easily. When she finally released him, she threw her head back, thrilled to her core she could feel the power that now coursed through her veins.

“Wherever I am, you will be able to find me,” he told her.

The power encased within what she had just done slammed through Khamsin and she went wild with her desire for the man she had claimed. She felt the hardness of his rod pushing against her and she moved over that pulsing shaft and impaled herself upon it, pushing down hard until it was seated as far as it would go within her. Riding him as though he were the strongest of mounts, she began bucking in her effort to gain for them both that most priceless of sensations—ultimate release.

Lucien could feel the tremors beginning deep within her cunt and those tremors were squeezing him tightly, warmly, wetly, so passionately that his own climax was roaring toward the shore of their completion like a tidal wave. He sank his hands into her hips, lifting her as she rode him, slamming her down upon him over and over, striving to scratch the maddening itch that was driving him insane.

Khamsin shrieked as he rolled her over and drew her right leg over his shoulder, so he could seat himself deeper within her creamy heat. He was thrusting into her with such abandon—grunting with the effort—she thought his heart might burst in the process. His eyes were tightly closed, his face a mask of deep concentration, his sweet tongue caught between his lips as he pummeled his tool into her sheath. His hands were digging into her rump, pressing her upward, bringing her to him.

They rocked together as their passion beat at them. They writhed against one another until their flesh was wet and slippery with sweat. As the itch became a sweet torment that had to be sated, the lovers tensed against one another—both going still at the same moment—as wave after delicious, precious wave swept over them. Twin howls of release echoed as the climax came to claim them.

Exhausted, spent, Lucien collapsed atop her and laid still, his head on her chest, her arms around his shoulders, holding him to her. He could hear her heart slowing its rapid tattoo and knew his own hastily pumping organ was dropping into cadence with hers. His breath slowed along with hers and he closed his eyes to draw in the smell of their mutual juices.

The roaring flames died down. The heat dispersed along limbs and through bellies, pooling into the heart where it lay warm and dormant. The roaring fire had become a smoldering caldron of embers that could so easily be fanned back to life again with a look, a word, a single touch.

“You fair wore me out,” he said tiredly.

“I don’t think I could put one foot ahead of the other you drained me so,” she admitted.

“Well, just lie there while I see to our transportation,” he said, getting up.

“Transportation?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“Have you the energy to walk home, wench?” he asked.

“Find me a horse, Korvina,” she said, waving him away with a smile.

She watched him pull on his britches, go to the entrance and roll the rocks away then duck out of the cave. As she watched, the rocks covering the entrance rolled back into place as though by unseen hands.

“Show off,” she accused.

Stretching like a contented cat, Khamsin later thought she must have dozed for when her lover returned to the cave, he looked refreshed with blooms of color in his cheeks. She hadn’t even heard the rocks rolling away to allow him entrance.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I hope you have at least one horse waiting outside,” she said.

“A bit weak still?” he asked, slipping into his shirt.

She nodded.

“We’ll deal with that later,” he said. He reached a hand down to her and she took it. Pulling her to her feet, he gave her a quick kiss then turned toward the cave entrance.

Outside, the night creatures were creeping about and a gentle breeze blew.

“It smells like rain coming,” Lucien observed as they bent down and exited the cave, her hand in his.

“Right about now, I’d welcome a good light rain,” she said with a sigh. “I feel gritty.” She looked about and groaned. “No horse, milord?”

Lucien let go of her hand. “I have something better.”

Before her eyes Lucien transformed, morphing into something larger, more streamlined, and as she stood there with mouth ajar, shifted into a magnificent snow-white steed with a wingspan that arched elegantly overhead.

“Pegasus,” Khamsin whispered.

Dropping to the ground gracefully, its front legs crooked beneath its snowy chest, back legs tucked beneath its belly, the steed nodded its beautiful long neck as though in answer.

“
Your steed awaits, milady
,”
he sent to her on the wisp of the wind.

“You fed,” she said, surmising this mythical animal had sprung from a replenishment to her lover’s strength.

“A few woodland creatures donated a portion of their lifeblood for me to be able to give you this gift,” he replied.

Khamsin climbed atop the exquisite creature and as its hindquarters lifted, gasped and tangled her fingers in the flowing white mane to keep from pitching forward. Her heart was thundering in her chest as it stood, the heavy wings flexing—sweeping upward, downward, the gleaming white feathers shimmering in the moonlight.

A light mist began to fall from the night sky.

“
Ready?
”

Lucien’s voice wound its way through her mind.

“Aye,” she breathed, thrilled to be sitting so high above the ground, straddling the smooth strong back of her Revenant lover.

The mount walked sedately to the edge of the serpentine rock pathway that time and nature had carved into the side of Mount Duáilce. With one powerful thrust of its hind legs, it sprang off the pathway and straight out into the rain-misted night. Its wings flapped once, twice, then stilled as the downdraft of cool air from the mountains allowed the steed to glide like a giant bird upon the currents.

With the rain kissing her face, the wind blowing through her hair, Khamsin knew a peacefulness she had never expected to experience in her lifetime. Freedom settled in her breast and she gloried in it.

“
You comfortable?
”

“I am in heaven,” she answered.

“
Hang on tight.
”

The flying horse flapped its concave wings once more and began rising upward at a steep incline. Khamsin sucked in her breath, her eyes wide, fearing she’d slide off, but then the magnificent creature banked to the left, gliding along downdrafts, rising with the updrafts, moving this way and that through the air as it sailed the rainy skies and she gripped it tightly between her legs.

“
Now that you can do all evening, wench!
”

Laughter bubbled from Khamsin and she threw her head back to let the rain cascade upon her closed eyes for the force of the water’s fall had increased—though not uncomfortably so—and she was thrilling to the feel of its clean touch. Her breasts tingled as the moisture seeped through the bodice of her gown and she could feel her nipples turning into hard little pebbles.

“
Pebbles I will warm with my hot tongue, milady
,” Lucien whispered as he read her mind.

Between the warmth of the wide back pressed between her legs and the friction caused by the movement of the steed’s powerful muscles, Khamsin was beginning to experience passionate sensations in her loins that made her wet and aching.

“
Imagine my cock sliding through the folds of your tight, hot cavern
,”
came the low, husky whisper.
“
Imagine the feel of it seated deep with you.
”

Sailing, gliding, soaring through the ebony waves of space—completely free of all earthly troubles, liberated even from reality—Khamsin discovered a wilder side of her nature that ached to break free.

“
What would you like to be, wench?
”

She opened her eyes. “Be?”

“
An eagle? A bluebird? What creature would you like be?
”

The implication of what he was asking filled Khamsin with excitement. She was Revenant! She could shape shift!

But she didn’t know how!

“
Think of the creature you would like to become
,” Lucien told her. “
Picture it in your mind.
”

The image of a dove flew across Khamsin’s mind.

“
Hold onto that image and envision yourself changing into its form.
”

What had once been only a fantasy became an exhilarating adventure as Khamsin morphed into the shape of a beautiful gray-brown mourning dove, its outer feathers tipped in pure white. Little red feet kicked at the air as it propelled itself from the horse’s back, spreading its falcon-like wings, and catching a current to ride through the mist and burst into strong, rapid flight on whistling wings.