Shattered Soul (38 page)

Her eyes were hot with desire and when she reached for him, he dropped down on her, chest to breast, belly to belly and hips to hips, and he took her mouth in a kiss so carnally hot he could swear he felt the fires leaping from one to the other of them, scorching them with a voracity that had his darker lust rearing up.

The sudden rapacity almost overwhelmed him, the need to take her, to stake his claim on her body, to pound into her tempting flesh until she screamed for mercy, making the sweat break out along his spine.

His hold tightened, and he opened his eyes to see orange streaks roiling through her irises, a testament to the fact that her own darkness was rising.

Little violet strands filtered through his soul, winding about the shattered fragments of his darkness, holding it back.

“Rani,” he whispered.

She looked up at him with an expression that was almost lost. “Fredrico... Don’t let it be dark. Not now. Not this time.”

The simple plea brought such a flood of tenderness swamping him that he caught her lips in a kiss so achingly sweet, pouring everything he had into it, and the violet pushed through him and into her. He could feel it slide through her darkness and her lips softened against his.

She kissed him passionately, but it was different, not as dark, and when he broke the kiss he saw that her irises were clear green once more.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “Please, Fredrico, don’t let me go.”

“Never,” he replied huskily. “Together always, Rani. You and me. Always.”

Without waiting any longer he shifted his hips, his phallus sliding between the slick, hot folds of her labia to lodge at the entrance to her body. She was so slick, all wet heat, and capturing her gaze, watching her, he flexed his hips and thrust. He slid inside her, her sheath gripping him as he drove so smoothly, so evenly inside her, pushing in deep right to the root of his phallus.

Pupils dilating, her breath caught, her nails digging in as he filled her. “Fredrico.” Her moan was a hot whisper in the night.

Hips rocking, Fredrico thrust in and out smoothly, every movement slow and deliberate.

It was sheer, hot, torturous Eros. Arching back, he glor Sbacout smied in the sensations of wet heat, her sheath like a tight glove on his staff, her body so soft and responsive beneath his as he stroked steadily. Fire burned in his loins, his muscles cording as he thrust so damned smoothly, wanting the moment to last forever.

Finally he was here, where he should be. With her, in her, above her. Rani was his, he controlled their ardour, ensuring their lovemaking remained tender.

Opening his eyes he gazed down at Rani beneath him, wanting to watch as he took her body.

Head arced back, her lush bottom lip between her small, white teeth, her breasts swaying with every thrust of his body against her, she gave herself to him, her hands gripping his upper arms.

Long, slim legs moved against him and she bent her knees, electing a heated groan from him as his scrotum rubbed against her perineum, they were so close. Closer than he’d ever been with any woman, for it wasn’t just intimate flesh against intimate flesh, it was also that little violet thread that was so vivid in his mind.

He could see it, the little glowing strand, so fragile yet so strong, winding between them, filling in the raw, ragged wounds of his soul, the shattered remnants of hers. It wound through each of them, and it wound them together, binding them.

“Rani.” Lowering his head, he pressed a kiss against her throat, moving up to nip her chin with hunger. “Rani, look at me.”

Obeying, she gazed up at him with desire so hot and heavy it made his staff spasm, the seed leaking faster from him to spill inside her.

He felt the urgency, but he felt the sacredness of what was happening as well, and he needed to ensure she shared it. “Rani,” he whispered, “do you feel it?”

There was no hesitation. “We’re being bound together.”

“Yes.” Heat plucked low in him, producing a hiss of agonized pleasure, and he fought to contain himself. Pressing a light kiss to her lips, he added huskily, “It’s magical, Rani.”

“No. It’s a miracle.”

She was right, it was a miracle that in this hellhole they’d found each other, really found each other. That they were together. That they had each other.

“I’ll never let you go,” he promised her, thrusting slow and deep, trying to make the moment last as long as he could. “No matter what happens, I’ll never let you go.”

A shiver of desire coursed through her, but rather than get lost in it, she slid one hand through his hair, pushing the heavy length back over his shoulder, her palm curving up behind his nape. “No matter what, Fredrico, I’ll be by your side.” With ease she pulled his head down so she could breath against his lips, “You and me. Forever.” And then she kissed him, hot and deep, the nails of her other hand raking lightly down his spine.

The act, so sensual, tipped him over the edge. His control snapped, flying from his tightly gripping consciousness, and prurience swept through him. His hips surged, the fire inside him sweeping through to burn a fiery, craving path from his heart to his groin.

He lost himself inside her, her scent and skin, her warm flesh, her welcoming body, her sheath which gripped him with inner strength, holding and squeezing lightly as she tried to hold him inside her.

Heart thundering, fire in his veins, he pumped harder, every thrust a push to get deeper inside her, to feel every part of her.

The eroticism was only inflamed further by the violet thread that wound through them tighter and tighter, heightening every sound, every whisper, every moan of passion, taking the very sounds and pouring it back through them both.

He felt like he could lose himself in her body forever. His scrotum grew tight, unbearable, his staff swelling, the head engorging so much he could feel every inch of her sheath, every little spasm of the slick walls.

“Oh, God, Fredrico!” Her cry was a husky note in the air that seared through him.

Hands fisting in the covers each side of her, muscles straining, he thrust harder, needing more, and when those slim legs lifted to wrap around his waist and she tugged him down to capture his mouth in a kiss so hot and hungry, he was now so hard against her it was hard to tell where he ended and she began.

Oh, God, she was so hot, so hungry, and he was craving her with a concupiscence he’d never
felt before in his whole life.

Every thrust was now a sweet torment. The end was so close, and while he craved it he didn’t want their intimacy to end just yet, not this miracle. But he was only flesh and blood, and even as he tried to hold on she screamed his name, her sheath spasming around him and tearing his own climax from him. Seed burst hot from him to coat her sheath, filling her, and still his hips pumped and pumped as he thrust deep. Straining up on his arms, his jaw clenched, Fredrico pushed into her, straining and shoving, unable to physically get any further inside her, and the last of his seed coated her sheath.

Finally depleted, exhausted, he dropped down onto her, covering her body with his, still buried deep and with no intention of withdrawing. Cupping her head, he held her close even as he buried his face in her hair and panted harshly into the silken strands.

Breathless, Rani hugged him close, and he felt her hot breath on his cheek as she pressed a soft kiss there. “Thank you,” she gasped. “Thank you.”

He couldn’t talk, he had hardly any breath left, all he could do was hug her closer and glorify in the knowledge that he was finally complete. That they were complete.

So very complete, so very happy, so very content.

Chapter 10

Outlaw Sector, outskirts

Planet Ylan

Witch’s Home

Standing by the window, Ceri looked out over the darkness. Close by, the sound of the lazily running river was audible, and she could hear the night flyers calling. It was so peaceful in the little house the white haired woman, Beulah, called home.

“Come, child, it’s time to eat.” The soft voice behind her had her turning her head to study the Beulah.

It was hard to guess how old she was, this witch woman. Oh yes, she’d heard about Beulah, she’d just never thought she’d end up actually meeting her.

“I haven’t thanked you for nursing me.” Crossing the room, Ceri followed her to sit down at the wooden table.

Beulah ladled hot stew into a bowl and set it in front of her. “There’s no need for thanks, Ceri.”

Taking a sip of the stew, Ceri found it tasty and took a spoonful, blowing on it to cool the steaming food. Behind her she could hear Beulah dishing up her own food.

When Beulah sat down opposite her and started to stir the stew in her bowl to cool it, Ceri said, “I still don’t understand how I came to be here, well away from the settlement where I was supposed to be.”

“You were sick, a friend brought you to me.”

“So you say.”

“So why ask?” Black eyes twinkled at her across the table.

“Where did your friend go?”

“She had business of her own.” Spooning up more food, Beulah ate calmly.

“Ah.” Ceri glanced around the room. It was large, clean, and comfortable. Homey. There was evidence of a man living there as well, but she had yet to see him. She looked back at Beulah.

Beulah smiled placidly.

Something trailed across her cheek suddenly, and she jumped, clapping one hand to her cheek. Nothing was in the room apart from herself and Beulah... or so it seemed. But she felt it, something unseen, something odd. Beulah wasn’t fazed, she didn’t even blink when several strands of her hair stirred as though by an unseen and unfelt breeze.

Witch woman. Taking a deep breath, Ceri mentally straightened her shoulders. The universe held many strange things. This woman had cared for her through her illness and held her when she cried. Unable to help herself, Ceri had poured out the whole wretched story to her and instead of questioning or prying, Beulah had simply listened and stroked her back as though she held a child in her arms.

The spooky witch woman was motherly. Sort of. In a spooky kind of way. Ceri liked her, and she just knew Rani would have, too.

The thought made her heart ache just a little, and her appetite dropped away.

“Eat,” Beulah said quietly. “You need your strength.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Eat.” Those black eyes fixed on her. “You are alive and your body needs nourishment. You have your path to travel, Ceri. Walk it well and walk it strong. Your sister would want that.”

Slowly Ceri returned to eating. Yes, she had her own path to travel but just what the hell was it? Where was she going to go?

“Home.”

Startled, she looked across at Beulah.

The witch woman smiled. “You go home, Ceri of the Reekas. You have family to see, decisions to make.”

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

Beulah’s eyes were fathomless, and Ceri caught a glimpse of something in the black depths—could it be a falling star? Heart picking up pace, she blinked. No, the witch woman’s eyes were the same black as always. It had to be a figment of her imagination. It had to be.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, but it was a comfortable, companionable silence. And while it felt as though there were more than just the two of them in the room, Ceri wasn’t going to pursue that feeling any further.

Beulah was a witch woman, and Ceri was just grateful that it was to her she’d been taken when sick, for in [ si to purs Beulah’s presence, she felt so very safe.

But yes, it was time she made plans.

“You need a flight home.” Beulah took a sip of the delicious cold drink she made daily.

“You’re certainly insistent that I go home.”

Ignoring that comment, Beulah took another sip. The witch woman was just like Ceri’s mother had been, resilient in a strong, yet kind, way.

With a resigned sigh, Ceri spooned up more stew. “I suppose you have a flight all ready to chuck me on, too.”

Beulah smiled.

~ * ~

Witch

Standing near the wall, Learta looked through the space shield at the universe beyond. Stars, planets, moons and suns, it spread out before her infinite and awe-inspiring. How she loved it, the freedom, the danger, the very essence of life there for eternity.

Strong arms came around her waist from behind and she leaned back against her husband’s chest, feeling his warmth seep into her body.

Cormac brushed a kiss on top of her head. “You’re lost in thought.”

“Just thinking how lucky I am.” Reaching up, she laid her palm against his cheek. “How very lucky.”

Lowering his head, Cormac pressed his lips to the scars on her cheek. “It’s me who is lucky. Not many would take on a craggy old ex-bounty hunter.”

Turning her head, Learta angled her head up to look up at him. “No one would take on a scarred woman.”

His eyes were warm, his love for her clear to see. “My woman is the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“You’ve a silver tongue,
mi debar
.”

One big hand came up to cup her breast through her flowing bodice. “I do, don’t I? I surprise myself.” The big hand squeezed gently. “I know you like it.” The big palm slid down her body to span open across her lower abdomen, causing a rush of heat to surge through to her very womb. “I know I like using my silver tongue on you, my little pot of gold.”

Need filled her, such aching need she only ever felt with this man who was so hard with others, yet so gentle with her. She leaned back into his arms, loving the way he surrounded her with his strength. “I have work to do,
mi debar
.”

“When we get to the fortress, yes, but meanwhile...” he nibbled her neck, “We have a couple of days to while away. I have some ideas.”

“I bet you do.” She arched back when he lightly bit her throat, her insides tightening deliciously as his hand worked her skirt up and then slipped beneath to grip her thigh in a firm hold.

“Let’s see if you approve.”