BlackMoon Reaper (28 page)

“Phelan!”

He smiled gently and eased his finger out of her only a little.

“No!” she cried out, and clamped one hand on his wrist, trying to push his finger

back inside her.

“Easy,
mo rúin
,” he said, calling her sweetheart in the most intimate way. “Lie still.”

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She squirmed at his words, her hips grinding against the ground. When he pulled

his hand from her, she hissed with frustration.

“Wait,” he cautioned. “I’m just beginning.”

A whimper pushed from her throat and she put a fist to her mouth, her gaze

beseeching as she undulated her hips once more.

“Please,” she begged him, writhing.

“Not yet.”

He glanced up to find her eyes squeezed tight together and her cheeks shot across

with color. Her lips were trembling behind the barrier of her fist and she was panting.

Her breasts quivered with every gasping breath. She was wet for him—the scent of her

sex coming up to slam into him like a battle ax. It was a heated, wet smell that made his

blood thicken and his cock stir.

He eased his palm to her mound then pivoted his hand so he could insert a finger

into her moistness once more. “Does that feel good?”

Her head whipped back and forth on the ground. “Aye!”

“Does this?” He put another finger into her, stretching her just a bit.

She said nothing but nodded eagerly.

He eased his fingers in and out of her in a slow, coaxing rhythm. “Then relax,” he

said in a soothing voice. “Relax and let your man take you.”

She shivered hard for a moment then seemed to make a supreme effort to put her

arms to her sides. The vein in her neck was pulsing rapidly and her body was as stiff as

a board, but he continued to move in and out of her until she was oozing with juices

and began to slowly relax.

“Do you like this?” he asked.

“Aye,” she whispered. “I crave it!”

He moved so he was lying beside her again—waving a hand to rid himself of his

clothing before stretching out so his front touched her side. He leaned over to draw a

nipple into his mouth, suckling as he continued the in and out cadence between her

legs.

He added a third finger and turned his hand so his thumb could stroke her clit.

Lucy nearly levitated off the bed the moment he touched that ultrasensitive spot.

Her hips shot up and at the moment they did, Phelan drove as deep inside her as his

fingers would go while rubbing the pad of his thumb over her swollen bud.

“Phelan. Phelan! Phelan!” she cried out.

He increased the speed of his thrusts, feeling the tightening inside her that signaled

the coming climax. Once more she clapped her hand to his wrist but instead of trying to

stay his movements, she jerked at his arm in an attempt to increase the speed.

“Aye,” he said, and moved his lips to her ear, sending his warm breath through the

channel to raise chill bumps on her flesh. “Aye, wench. That’s what you want.”

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Lucy was writhing beneath him and flexing her hips. Her eyes were wide and her

lips parted. She was gasping for breath and, at the moment the release came, she started

to scream, the sound cut off by Phelan’s mouth covering hers.

He felt the ripples of her climax tugging at his fingers and her fingernails clawing at

his back as she came again and again. He made three quick thrusts into her heat then

pushed deep and held it as she continued to come.

“That’s what my woman needed,” he said, and slowly slid his fingers from her hot

sheath. “That’s what she needed.” He brought his fingers to his mouth to lick away her

juices.

“You’ve no notion what seeing you do that does to me,” she said in a throaty tone.

He gathered her to him. There would be time to sate his own raging hunger that

was burning his cock like a wildfire. For now he had something more important that

needed to be said.

“I love you, Lucy-Lou. I need you. I want our life together to last forever.”

She flung a leg over his hip. As the last tremor faded away, she began to sob,

burying her face against his shoulder. “I love you, Phe,” she whispered. “I love you

with all my heart.”

“Shush, little one,” he said, kissing her forehead. His hold on her was possessive

and in that moment had anyone dared to separate them, he would have torn out the

bastard’s throat.

When her sobs at last died into tiny little hiccups, he looked down into her face.

“There is one other thing, milady,” he said.

She gazed back at him with such love, such trust, he thought his heart would burst.

Phelan took a deep breath. “Have you decided whether or not you want to have a

fledgling?”

Lucy tucked her lip between her teeth. “I’ve thought a lot about it,” she answered.

“I talked with the other women and they told me what to expect. Lea said she hadn’t

wanted it and Danielle hadn’t either, but both said they were accustomed to it now and

that it wasn’t so bad. They’ve accepted it. Mystery is eager for hers and Rachel said she

was glad she’d been given one because now she’d always be with Owen.”

“Did you make a decision then?” Phelan asked.

“I have,” she stated, “and I want it.” She looked into her mate’s eyes. “Today. While

I have my nerve and the encouragement of the other women sustaining me.”

“You’re sure now?” he pressed. “There’s no hurry. We can wait.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “This is what I want. I am very sure.”

Two hours later Lucy was lying on her back with her paws in the air, sound asleep.

Her little muzzle was twitching. She’d taken the Transition in stride, better than Phelan

could have hoped. He’d held her throughout the transformation from human to

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wolflike creature as the pain engulfed her, whispering to her, cooing to her, soothing

away the hurt as tears fell down his cheeks. Once she was no longer in human form,

when the popping, cracking, stretching sounds had ceased, she sprang away from him

to leap with a yip across the room. She made a barking noise that was so unwolflike it

made him laugh.

Around and around she chased her tail. She shook herself, seeming to take delight

in the soft mahogany-colored fur that covered her. She took great joy in licking her

paws, scraping her claws on the floor. Her tail was thick and bushy and it seemed to

annoy her at first, but then she ignored it as though it were a train on a fancy gown.

“She is absolutely gorgeous!” Fontabeau whispered as her paws flexed as she slept.

“Aye,” Phelan whispered back, in awe of the rich red color of her coat. Her eyes, he

noted, were still that miraculous, gorgeous green color—now fringed by spiky lashes.

Lucy was sixty pounds of playful she-wolf as she had frolicked about the room,

nipping at her lover until he too Transitioned and joined in her playfulness. She swatted

him with her soft paws, rolled over and over with him on the floor then backed up to

him to tease before scooting away with a growl of delight when he tried to mount her.

She sniffed and sniffed and squatted to mark her territory then scratched her muzzle

and pranced off to discover something else new and exciting. She was in constant

motion until her watch spring wound down and she plopped down on the floor. Within

moments she had fallen asleep.

“She’s going to wear me out,” Phelan predicted as he Transitioned back into

humanoid form.

“When she wakes up, she’s gonna wanna fly,” Fontabeau said. “Is there somewhere

within the Citadel where you can teach her to do that?”

“The Catacombs,” Phelan said. “Deep below Level One are tunnels where all the

ancient records are kept in vaults. There are corridors for miles and miles. I can teach

her there but I’m not up to it now.”

They turned their gazes to Phelan’s lady. Lucy’s front paws were flexing even more

rapidly as though she were running all out in her lupine dream. She made little huffing

sounds as her flews quivered.

“You get ’em, girl,” Phelan said softly, his eyes filled with love.

* * * * *

“I tried speaking to him but he wouldn’t answer,” Arawn told his Reapers and

Lady Reapers the next morning. Both their littlest Reaper Valda was in attendance as

well as the resident Amazeen.

“Should I go…?” Aingeal asked, but seventeen voices all shouted
no
at the same

time—her husband’s voice the loudest among them.

“But I could,” Valda suggested, and all the adults turned to look at her. The little

girl shrugged. “He would have to let me in.”

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“Not necessarily,
babban
,” her stepfather Glyn told her.

“He would,” Valda asserted. “Precious said he would.”

“Perhaps the child would be the best emissary,” Kasid said.

“But wouldn’t she remind him too closely of his own little girl?” Danni asked. “I

sense he’s hurting. Don’t you think it would be like rubbing salt into his wound?”

“That’s why Precious says I should be the one to talk to MOM.”

Every Reaper smiled at the name, even the newest Lady Reaper.

“What are you going to tell him, Valli?” Bevyn asked.

“That we love him and want him to stop being such a silly goose,” she said,

bouncing her ever-present dolly on her little leg. She sighed. “I don’t really love him—

yet—but like Mama says, he’s like kudzu. He grows on you whether you want him to

or not.”

Laughter filled the room where the Reapers were meeting.

“Precious said there’s gonna be a lady for him real soon,” Valli said, swinging her

doll from side to side. “He won’t be lonely too much longer.”

“The Worldly One said that?” Aingeal asked. “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” Valli answered. “Precious said the lady was already here at the ’Del.”

Eyes turned to Penthe Aracnea, who held up her hands.

“Don’t look at me! It isn’t me!”

“Then who?” Owen asked.

“I don’t know, but it sure as hell ain’t me,” Penthe declared.

“I’m gonna go see MOM now,” Valli said as she slid off her chair, her dolly

clutched tightly under her arm.

Eanan opened the door for her, winking as she grinned at him. He closed the door

behind her. “She’s gonna be a heartbreaker one day, Kullen.”

“Aye, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Glyn said. “I’ll be fighting the boys off with a

stick.”

“Just bite them, Reaper,” Penthe said. “That should do the trick.”

Glyn snapped his teeth at her then grinned, fangs extended.

“Are you all right?” Aingeal asked her husband. He’d been quiet throughout the

meeting.

“Aye,” he answered.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Donal Greeley,” he mumbled.

Aingeal frowned. “My ex-husband? Why?”

“I was thinking of going to Farmington to find him.”

She gave him a warning look. “Because…?”

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“I want to beat the ever-loving shit out of him, that’s why,” Cynyr said, clenching

his teeth.

His wife said nothing for a moment then reached up to cup his cheek, turn his

angry face toward her. “Him or Lord Kheelan.”

“Both of them!” he hissed, and she shushed him. He lowered his voice. “Both of

them.”

“Well, you’ll do nothing of the sort,” she stated. “You’ll leave them both alone—

especially Donal. He has a wife and children. Just leave the man be.”

“I want to smash his ugly face in,” Cynyr growled.

“Actually Donal used to be a rather handsome man,” she said.

“He won’t be when I’m finished with him!”

“Big, bad Reaper,” she admonished him. “Gonna go attack the poor weak little

human man and turn him to road kill.” She batted her lashes and put her hands to her

heart. “My hero.”

He snapped at her, fangs extended, and she laughed, knowing she’d drawn him out

of the fury she’d sensed spiraling in him for the last few days.

“I’m trying to be a badass here and you’re making fun of me,” he fumed.

“You are a badass, Reaper,” she said, and bumped him with her shoulder. “You’re

my badass.”

“I want to pulverize Donal Greeley,” he grumbled. “I’ve always wanted to

pulverize him. I want to rip out his guts and feed them to him. I want to pull his head

off and stuff it up his ass. I want to…”

“You know what,
mo shearc
?” she asked, and when he looked down at her, she

wrapped her arms around his biceps. “You have something he’ll never have, do you

know that?”

“What?” he snarled.

“Me.” She pulled him to her and claimed his hard lips—lips that softened to her

warm, loving kiss.

“He’s done for,” Eanan told his brother Owen as they watched the byplay between

the Crees.

“Yep. I’ve always known Aingeal Cree was a very dangerous woman.”

“What I wouldn’t give to be a gnat on Kheelan’s wall when Valda talks to him,”

Danni told Lea, Bevyn Coure’s mate.

“Me too,” Lea said.

“Is he that bad?” Lucy inquired. She was proud of the black Reaper outfit her man

had fashioned for her. She wore it with elegance, her long red hair flowing in a tight

braid down her slender back.

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“Not really,” Rachel Tohre—Owen’s wife—answered. “Just misunderstood.”

“Rachel sees the good in everybody,” Danni said, smiling at Rachel.

“No, not everyone,” Rachel said, and shadows filled her pretty eyes. “Some people