Drawing Deep (20 page)

When Ria had questioned her reservation on that, Gwen had only rolled her eyes, stating, “It’s protection duty.”

Recalling that comment now, Ria looked at those around her with different eyes.

Annie and Bob were accepted no doubt due to long-term familiarity, plus the fact the older couple lived in a small apartment off the kitchen. Gwen was validated as one of their own as she and Rome were obviously in an intimate relationship. In fact, Ria wouldn’t be surprised if Gwen wasn’t sporting an engagement ring soon. Lance, by extension of his sister, was also taken into the bosom of the family.

But why herself?

To discombobulate her even more, Santos once again took a seat next to her, making her very aware not only of his heat and masculinity, but also of the sexual tension that sparked between them. Even after hours of intimate play last night, she found herself wanting him again. It was crazy, the compelling need to strip him bare and touch every inch of his hard, honey-colored flesh. His taste was in her mouth, and she craved more. She craved sinking her fangs into his neck and drawing into herself the hot, rich blood that flowed through his veins, blending his essence with her own. Making them one.

Santos pressed his hard thigh against her own as if he couldn’t not touch her when she was near, and the searing contact had a million nerve endings spark to life. A fine tremor tickled her spine and desire, barely restrained, surged in liquid waves of heat low in her belly. She recalled all too well how his thigh felt, naked and hot between her own. As the sensual pressure mounted, it made her jittery, and she reached for her glass of iced tea to cover her fidgeting, eyes flitting around the table to see if anyone notice her discomfort.

Porter sat between Santos and Lance while Gwen, Rome, Annie and Bob were across the enormous table built for well over a dozen. Andreas and Melinda resided on either end.

“Now that we’re all here, I have announcement to make.” Rome said, drawing every eye to him. He lifted Gwen’s hand and pressed a kiss to it. “My lovely Gwen has accepted me as mate and soon-to-be husband.” He beamed with joy. “We’re getting married.”

As congratulations flew around the table, Ria nearly spewed out her tea. Mate? Mate!? Lord she was an idiot. A certifiable, card-caring can’t-see-the-forest-for-the-trees moron. Mate. Mating heat.

She knew about the mating heat of shifters. Legends and myths always came from some type of reality and a shifter’s mating heat
was
a reality. Though according to her psychotic family, it was a vicious sexual chemical reaction that turned the male shifters into insatiable and feral beasts who took the female of their choosing again and again whether they wanted to be taken or not.

In essence, the woman became a sexual slave. Ria looked hard at Gwen’s glowing face and knew that that woman was no one’s sexual slave. If anything, the love and admiration in Rome’s eyes just before he closed them to align his lips to his new fiancee’s, Rome was Gwen’s slave.

It wasn’t the same old twisting of facts that surprised her, it was the undisputed knowledge that she was well acquainted with the intricacies of the mating heat between a male shifter and a female whose chemistry, once they touched, exploded into a feral hunger.

She was living it. Living with a kind of touch-hungry need that could only be quenched by the man sitting next to her. An all-consuming desire that now, seeing past the veil of her own trepidations at working amidst those she once thought would tear her to pieces simply for being what she was, actually started two months ago, when Santos had laid his hands on her bare arms to steady her before she tripped on her face.

The mating heat was why she’d dreamt about him for over sixty long and lonely nights. And because of the herbal cigarettes she’d been on for years to alter her scent, that mating heat hadn’t manifested in an explosion of need, but a slow, rising simmer that eventually flamed to life when they’d connected once again.

She was the mate of a jaguar shifter. Kalin and her father would probably die of cardiac arrest if they knew.

Hmm. Maybe she should make a long over-due call home.

While the idea of tormenting her once tormentors was a nice side-bar, the reality was that
she was the freaking mate of a jaguar shifter.

To keep her hands from shaking, she squeezed them between her thighs and offered her own congratulations to the happy couple.

Intermixed with ideas for the upcoming nuptials, the group discussed the latest findings in the ruin including Gwen’s soil results, leading them all to believe the crater was once a salt pond connected to an underwater cave and out to the ocean. That led to more ideas and questions on possible tunnel entrance locations from the bay. All in all, it was another entertaining meal, one that thoroughly drew Ria into the various and constant conversations flowing around the table.

After dinner, Melinda requested aid in obtaining the Christmas decorations once again, and, after a short battle when Lance insisted he felt good enough to carry a box or two, Ria, Santos, Rome, Gwen, Porter and Lance went to retrieve the containers from the attic.

“That’s how Ria figured out how to open the door to the tunnel,” Santos nodded at the uncovered portrait of Cort Fylin, but when his eyes settled on hers with a gleam of heat, she knew he was recalling what happened between them directly after seeing the painting. When his gaze flicked to the sheet-covered couch and back to hers, she felt her cheeks flush and she looked away.

“I don’t understand.” Porter frowned at the large canvas. “What was the clue?”

“The letters on the cane.” Ria informed him, sidling up next to Santos and the others standing in front of the portrait.

“The initials?” Rome asked.

Ria shook her head. “They’re not initials, they’re...”

“Roman numerals.” Lance finished for her with a grin. “Nice job, Ree.”

Beside her, Santos bristled. “Ree?”

“Down boy,” Ria admonished under her breath, laying a calming hand on his arm.

Unperturbed at the scowl on Santos’s face, Lance shrugged. “It’s just a nickname.”

“Fabulous.” Gwen muttered. “I’m Wren and you’re Ree. Together we sound like a demented duo.”

“Sounds more like someone watched too much Scooby-doo as a child.” Rome pointed out, flashing his teeth.

“Rut-ro,” Lance said. “You wound me out.”

“Come on, Wance. Let’s see if we can find a Scooby snack.” Porter winked, obviously tickled at the by-play.

“Oh, Good Lord,” Gwen groaned in exasperation laced with affection. “Our men have reverted back to their childhood.” She picked up a green and red box and headed for the exit. “We’d better go, Ria. It might be catching.”

Copying Gwen’s actions, Ria glanced back in time to see Santos looking at her butt rather than throw himself into the male mix of boyhood bonding. She sucked in a breath when he lifted those glittering eyes, the intensity on the rugged planes of his gorgeous face unmuted by his surroundings. Her nipples tightened into painful points and the low embers of arousal ignited liquid and hot between her thighs. She saw his nostrils flare, and as his lips curled in a wicked smile, she fled the room.

* * * *

In short order the first floor of the house was transformed. It reminded Ria of a magazine article she’d once skimmed over on the best interior decorated Christmas homes. Cheerful stockings hung from the fireplace mantle, on top of which rested a swath of garland and various holiday themed knick-knacks. The stair railing was twined with more garland that boasted little gold bells. The scents in the rooms altered as current candles were replaced with ones that smelled of pine, cranberry and sugar cookies. Faux poinsettia plants in a variety of sizes and colors were placed throughout the house, their large leaves giving the most mundane of corners a holiday pick-me-up.

In the dining room, Ria helped Santos hang oversized tree ornaments from the ceiling. They were large, fun, and yet someone tasteful in understated colors of burgundy, green, and silver. As she stood back to see their handiwork, she found herself smiling at the display. Intermixed with the ornaments were strands of white snowflakes that took on a whole new dimension when Santos suddenly flipped off the light switch.

They glowed. She wanted to laugh as the strands shimmered and swayed. Glow-in-the-dark snowflakes. Who knew?

“What makes them move?” She whispered to Santos as he drew near, not wanting to dispel the moment of its whimsical magic.

“Air vents. Soft breeze whenever anyone walks by.” Santos moved behind her and slid his arms around her waist, one hand splayed low over her belly, pressing her back against the hard length of his erection. It made her toes curl.

Burying his face in her neck, he inhaled. “You’ll come to me.” His voice was wicked silk. “I want you in my home.” The rough and wet glide of his tongue sent a shiver down her spine. “In my bed.”

She drew in her own ragged breath. “Yes.” A solemn promise. “After everyone’s gone to bed.” To ward of any protest, she folded her hands over his, adding, “Otherwise it’ll be awkward.”

He rested his chin on her head. “You think no one knows we’ve become lovers?”

Ria closed her eyes at his quietly amused question. Yeah, it was probably impossible to hide much from beings with heightened senses, but Ria was used to a certain amount of privacy, and adjusting to all the noise and affectionate prying would take quite a bit to get used to.

Get used to? Where did that come from?
It wasn’t like she had plans to stay. She had a deadline, needed to finish up her work here and get back home.

Home to what? Your father is looking for you. You know longer have a home in New Mexico. But you could have a home here. With Santos. Your mate.

The sly voice was tempting, achingly so. She tightened her grip on his arms, turning her head so it leaned against his strong jaw. Breathed him in. Beyond the sexual need was an underlying sense of safety. Security.

Belonging.

She licked her dry lips. “That may be, but there’s no need to be blatant about it.”

His mouth touched her temple. “There’s every need to be blatant about it, however, this time, we’ll play it your way.”

Edgy with need as she was, Ria flinched when Santos flung open the door before she could knock. He stood in the entry of his home, radiating so much masculine virility she lost the power of speech. His hair was loose, falling in a luxuriant stream down his back. A dark brown sweater, the same color as his eyes, molded over his sleekly muscled chest. Bare feet peeked out from under black jeans that hugged his thighs, straining unashamedly over the thick ridge of his erection.

Her belly clenched at the bulging outline of his desire, which in turn kicked her own hunger into higher gear. She fisted her hands at her side so they wouldn’t move of their own volition and molest his gorgeous body. A momentary difficulty as, without a word, he snagged her arm and drew her in his house, only to push her back against the door after he closed it. Not giving any quarter, he moved in, placing both forearms on the door on either side of her head.

“You can’t do that,” he set his mouth at her ear, his body a hard haven that made her ache in all the right places.

“Do what?” She murmured, melting into his luscious heat.

He bent his head, laid open-mouthed kisses along the smooth patch of skin where her pulse jumped with erratic frequency. “Look at me like you want to eat me alive.”

She purred at the enticing image. “I do.”

Groaning, he nipped at her sensitive flesh. “God Ria, you’re killing me.” Then he took her mouth in a hard, passionate kiss, the deep penetration of his tongue a silent promise of sinful delights. Feeling a sense of urgency that bordered on frenzy, she twined her arms around his neck, her hands tunneling into his thick mane, and hung on for the ride.

He wedged a thigh between her own as the kiss deepened, his cock hard against her swollen center. In a flash she was right at the edge of insanity, her need to have him inside her, filling the aching emptiness, a raging hunger that made her whimper and clutch his head in desperation.

“You make me so fucking hard I can’t even think.” Santos breathed out, trailing his hands down her torso to slip under her top. Taking a moment to savor and caress the silky skin of her stomach, he slid his hands up to fill them with the weight of her breasts before circling the puckered nipples with his thumbs through her bra.

“Oh God,” Ria gasped as electrical currents arrowed from her breasts straight to her clit, causing an almost painful throb between her legs.

One sneaky hand shimmered down her waist and hip before unsnapping her pants. The sound of her zipper being lowered made her belly quiver in anticipation, her eyes glazing over when he cupped her mound.

Santos bit her bottom lip lightly when he found her panties soaked. “Damn, kitten,” he whispered almost reverently. “You’re so wet for me. So soft.” He crooned as his fingers stroked the damp material, making her moan and arch into his touch. “Take off your shoes.”

She toed off the canvas flats in a heartbeat, her breath coming in great ragged gulps when he quickly rid her of her pants and underwear. Naked from the waist down, she watched Santos through heavy lids as he rested on his knees in front of her, his thumbs parting her soft folds for his delectation. He inhaled deep.

“Beautiful.” His voice was strained, as if he was starved for her. “I need to taste you.” It was all the warning she had before he swooped in and laid his mouth on her. At the first intimate swipe of his tongue along the delicate folds, her head hit the door, pleasure swamping her and threatening to buckle her knees.

He threw an arm across her belly, bracing her between his sensual assault and the door. “Spread your legs for me.” When she complied, he made an approving sound and went back to work, slicking his tongue from her glistening opening to her throbbing clit. He licked every crevice, sampled every glistening fold, creating a wild firestorm inside her that scorched her blood and short-circuited her brain.

Two fingers thrust into her wet sheath, his tongue flicking over the tight knot of nerves in a fast vibration that had her twitching and pressing into him, a silent demand to ease the savage tension coiling in her gut.