Parallel Heat (45 page)

A devilish gleam flashed in his tired eyes. ‘‘I’m counting on it.’’

‘‘It might take time,’’ she told him, feeling an unaccountable shyness as he cupped her warm face within his palm. ‘‘To, well, you know. Show you. Teach you . . . take you there, I mean.’’ She shook her head, frustrated by her stammering explanations. The truth was, slipping into her natural state was the most intensely personal experience she knew. The idea of sharing it with him—and awakening it within her lover—well, it left her feeling strangely like a virgin all over again. ‘‘It’s just very . . . erotic.’’ There, she’d told him.

His long-lashed eyes drifted halfway shut, his swarthy face seemed to flush a little red, and he sighed. ‘‘Why else do you figure I’m so interested in it?’’

‘‘Because you want to know your true self?’’ she supplied in a helpful voice, but she knew better.

‘‘Partly,’’ he purred. ‘‘And partly because I know you’ll be even more of a wildcat when we’re having royal sex.’’

‘‘Oh, please!’’ She swatted him on the arm. ‘‘Royal sex?’’

‘‘What else should I call it?’’

‘‘Try . . .’’ Well, he had her there. At least in English. She pressed her lips against his ear, murmuring sweet words of Refarian love and pleasure, and called it exactly what it was.
Llala durshk.
Translation: at least the rough, imperfect one, ‘‘the sharing of fire.’’

He nuzzled her cheek, pressing his full, warm lips against her face. ‘‘In other words, I’ll show you my fire, if you show me yours?’’ He laughed huskily.

‘‘Sort of like.’’

‘‘Mmm, this will be most interesting, my lady.’’

And inside, right in the center of her belly, Thea felt a quaking, trembling heat begin. Closing her eyes, she knew that their mating rites had really just begun.

Chapter Twenty-seven

After breakfast, Jared finally returned to the cabin in search of his wife. She’d been sound asleep when he’d left for the day at five A.M., and now that sunlight pierced the dawn he found himself desperate to make love with her. Strange, but his compulsion to make love with her had intensified dramatically in the past day, so that it seemed the only thing he could think about. Erotic thoughts crowded his mind—images of Kelsey astride him, riding him hard, or images of them tumbling before the fire, thrusting and groaning. From the beginning, his desire for Kelsey had been nearly maddening, but . . . this rampant craving was unique.

Every new husband yearns for his mate. That’s all that I’m feeling,
he tried telling himself.
Of course I want to bed her as often as possible.

But a quiet part of his heart wanted to believe that perhaps it was something far more monumental—perhaps greater than a new husband’s unrelenting passion for his wife. What he wanted to believe, when he actually admitted it to himself, was that maybe the gods were smiling upon them—maybe he
wasn’t
actually done with his first mating season.

He discovered Kelsey at his desk poring over a small book, glancing back and forth between her handheld translator and what he would have sworn was one of Prince Arienn’s journals. With iPod headphones over her ears, and her attention focused on the pages before her, she never noticed his entry. Making his footsteps light, he crept up behind her, feeling heat sweep from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. Flushing heat, the sort that came from nowhere and made you dizzy.

Bending over her chair, he slid his arms about her and she jolted in his embrace. ‘‘Geez, Jared!’’ she shouted in an overly loud voice thanks to her headphones. ‘‘You scared the living crap out of me!’’ He laughed, pointing at his ears, and she ripped the headset away.

Nuzzling her, he nibbled at first one ear, then the other. ‘‘I was feeling frisky.’’

‘‘How frisky?’’ She set the iPod on his desk.

The flush in his face deepened. ‘‘I wish to bed my wife.’’

‘‘That’s definitely frisky.’’

Bending over her shoulder he asked, ‘‘What are you reading?’’ He gave the book a glance—it
was
one of the prince’s journals, but not one he’d ever seen before. ‘‘Arienn’s diary?’’

This time it was his wife who blushed, and deeply. ‘‘It’s something Thea gave me,’’ was all she said, placing it atop a stack of Refarian science texts.

He plucked the book from her grasp with his most kingly manner. ‘‘I see that, but the question is why.’’

Kelsey averted her eyes, and he briefly scanned the journal pages, grasping the reason for her embarrassment. In painstaking detail Arienn had outlined the specifics of the first night he lay with his wife—his human wife.

‘‘Arienn coupled with a human,’’ he observed, shocked to the core.

Kelsey gave a nod, saying nothing.

‘‘I’ve never read anywhere that he mated with a human.’’ Jared read on, skimming until he came to one particular entry that caused the beating of his heart to increase rapidly.

 
‘‘By the Gods!’’ Jared could hardly contain his excitement. ‘‘They experienced the heat . . . together!’’

Kelsey gave him a bold smile. ‘‘So they did.’’

Jared gulped, feeling something powerful lodge in his chest. Was it hope? Perhaps fear? He couldn’t be sure. ‘‘If they did, then you know what that means, Kelsey . . .’’

Her smile, so radiant and broad, turned much more beguiling. ‘‘That things are going to get
very
interesting between us eventually.’’

‘‘Are you . . . repulsed?’’ he asked, his lifelong shame about his mating compulsions surfacing yet again.

‘‘Will you get over yourself, Jared? Please?’’ She swatted him on the hip. ‘‘I don’t know how many ways to say this, so I just will: I am into this. It turns me freaking on. Okay? Do you finally get it?’’

Chastened, he bowed his head, grinning from ear to ear. ‘‘The thought of you in the throes of mating frenzy turns me . . .
freaking
on.’’

‘‘Don’t say freaking.’’

He cocked his head, confused. ‘‘No? Is it somehow wrong, the manner in which I used it?’’

‘‘No, it just makes me want to giggle at you.’’

‘‘Ah, so I see.’’ He preened like the king that he was. ‘‘I do not wish to amuse you in bed. Only pleasure you.’’

‘‘My point precisely.’’ Still, she did giggle—and quite loudly.

With a final glance at the page, he realized one question still concerned him. ‘‘Tell me, love, did they . . . conceive? Have we hope from their own conception?’’

For long moments she did not reply, until at last she rose from the chair, pulling herself to her full six feet of height. ‘‘Yes, there’s hope.’’

‘‘They conceived a child?’’

Her lovely wide smile vanished. ‘‘It doesn’t say—but they did cycle together, repeatedly.’’ She indicated the journal he held in his hand. ‘‘Arienn writes about three of their cycles in there.’’

A jolt of heat shot straight to his groin, causing his cock to stiffen in proud salute. ‘‘Three cycles—together.’’ He growled possessively, jerking her against his body. ‘‘We best begin to call the fever upon ourselves immediately.’’

‘‘You’re not afraid of it anymore?’’ she asked, uncertainty darkening her freckled face.

‘‘Damn it all, I have my pride to think about now! I won’t be outdone by Arienn.’’

With a quick kiss on his cheek, she rumbled in his ear, mimicking his mating sounds. ‘‘If my king commands it, how can I deny him?’’

‘‘It’s me who can’t ever deny you, sweet queen.’’

Then, as the king had indeed decreed, they took to their bed for many long, lusty hours. During that time something foreign fanned across their naked bodies: Subtle, barely noticeable, that thing wooed them. It lured them closer, yet remained concealed beneath the surface of their bond. In fact, they never knew it had entered the chamber, so stealthy was it.

Yes, their blood fever waited, simmered slowly, whispered their names like a creature of mischief, until the perfect moment when it would explode full-force upon their mated bodies.

 
Marco and Thea fell into exhausted slumber, tangled together like a serpentine
wtlsi
sculpture—arms, legs, bodies twined as one. And soon enough after that, they woke, staring at each other in wondrous silence. There were no words; just long, slow caresses, their only form of communication.

Without speaking, Marco drew Thea up onto her knees so that they faced each other in the center of the bed. As they’d done during their near-mating, they placed palm against palm, allowing energy to radiate back and forth, quickly building to a pulsating climax. Thea’s body tensed as she felt Marco’s power encircle her, intoxicating her, arousing her. Sliding one palm down the front of her chest, he caressed first one nipple, then the other with a strange kind of innocence; as if they’d never touched each other before that very moment. As if they hadn’t already lost their virginity together.

He’s seeing me through new eyes,
she thought in amazement.
Because we’ve both changed. Because we’re nearly soulmated!

That’s true,
came his throaty, sure voice right in her soul’s marrow.
I kept thinking I was going to change you, and look what you’ve done to me! You’re my princess.

A princess; a royal wedding; mating rites. Thea gaped at Marco in wonder, her fingertips stilling against his bare chest.
How did I overlook something so symbolic and important on our wedding night?
With a quick glance at the sheer drapes that billowed from the canopy, she fingered a bit of the silky fabric, unfurling it between them. It wafted over her body, cool and sensual in its texture, creating a veil of separation—hiding her from her mate while also enhancing every detail of her bare body.

Thea, what are you doing?
he asked gruffly, reaching to push the thin material out of the way, but she stopped his hand.

‘‘Then what happens?’’ he snarled, his impatience undeniable.

Lifting up onto her knees, she pressed her lips against his, the diaphanous material brushing between both their mouths. ‘‘The prince uncovers her.’’

To Thea, it had always been a beautiful metaphor for the sealing of souls.

‘‘We’re not on Refaria,’’ he argued, his voice edged with threat. ‘‘And it’s not our wedding night now.’’

‘‘But we aren’t yet soulmated,’’ she reminded him, her soft exhalations causing the veil to billow with each breath.

Bunching the material in his fist, Marco moaned his impatience. ‘‘I want to see you, baby!’’

‘‘Trust me.’’

With his fingertips he rubbed the silken material across her abdomen, sliding it downward between her legs. Back and forth he used it to pleasure her, massaging it against her most intimate place until the fabric dampened with her arousal. Glimpsed through the veil Marco was a shadowy image of darkness and power, of ruggedness and majesty. She wrestled against her own impatience, clamping down on it almost violently.

She edged forward onto his lap, planting herself astride him, then stroked the veil against his sandpapery cheek, letting him feel its erotic coolness. Their faces pressed together again, and their heavy breaths caused the material to billow back and forth between them.

Lifting the bottom portion of the fabric, Thea took hold of Marco’s erection with her free hand, sliding atop his jutting length. She was wetter than last night, burning for him, wound tight. So ready for him, so urgent.

‘‘Take this off,’’ he begged, clutching at the veil.

‘‘Not yet.’’ She panted. ‘‘Not quite yet.’’

‘‘Damn it, Thea!’’ He groaned, wrapping his arms about her waist. ‘‘I want you now!’’

‘‘It-it’s arousing us.’’

‘‘I know that, b-but, I-I,’’ he sputtered, but she cut him off by driving herself onto his rigid cock. His erection filled her completely, driving up inside of her hard. She gasped, steadying herself by clutching his shoulders, barely able to see him through the thin membrane that separated the rest of their bodies. Clasping her hips, Marco teased her into a frantic motion, up and down against his body; not like the virgin he’d been just hours ago, but as if he’d spent many nights in her arms and bed.

Within moments she felt his soul; sensed it as soon as it made explosive contact with hers. Last night they’d stopped—not this time.

Throwing her head back, she cried out her pleasure; his soul was gorgeous—a shimmering palette of more colors than she could identify. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in him, body and soul.
No stopping, no stopping,
she whispered within their bond.

Never again,
he pledged, their frantic pace intensifying. Then, without hesitation, they coupled souls, fire dissolving into shards of color right between them. She felt the moment it happened, as if Marco himself lodged suddenly within her chest; as if she burrowed right into his core.

And at that precise moment, Thea ripped the veil away, crushing her mouth against his right as he came inside her, her hips thrashing wildly, a growling moan exploding from within his chest.

‘‘I can’t—breathe,’’ she barely managed to squeeze out, and he pinned her against his muscled, heaving chest.

‘‘Hold on,’’ he urged thickly. ‘‘Hold me.’’ He was trembling against her with a ferocious intensity.

‘‘I’m here, I’m here,’’ she promised him, feeling his heat sizzle to life. His body now sated, his D’Aravnian self was about to demand its own due. ‘‘Don’t be afraid.’’