Knight of Pentacles (Knights of the Tarot Book 3) (15 page)

Drawing back, he set his forehead against hers. “I accept your terms, Jenna. But fully intend to continue in my efforts to persuade you to commit yourself to our arrangement long term.”

Her eyes softened and the tears stopped as she stared back at him, her forehead docked against his. “I guess I can live with that. For the time being, anyway.”

Encouraged, he rose from the couch, helped her to her feet, and slipped his arms around her waist. “Now that we have negotiated a temporary truce, what do you say to decamping to the bedroom?”

She smiled. “I say, lead the way.”

“I have a better idea.”

Bending, he scooped her into his arms, carried her down the hall, and laid her upon the field of blossoms covering the bed. A meadow of wildflowers on a bright May morning. May Day, his birthday. And she was his gift from the gods. His, to have and to hold. His, to keep and enjoy and cherish until the end of time. If she feared growing old while he remained young, he could solve that inequity easily enough.

She need only give her consent.

He pulled off her jeans before stripping off his own clothes. She still wore her bra and panties. Red this time. As red as blood and as lacey as cobwebs. Laid out like this in the soft moonlight pouring through the window, she was a feast—for his senses as well as his appetites. Moving over her, he planted his palms on either side of her shoulders and gazed into her eyes.

“Is growing old while I stay young a serious obstacle for you?”

“Yes.”

“If you could be like me and never age, would you agree to be mine?”

She smiled up at him, her eyes shining like two emeralds—his birthstone. “Yes.”

Mirroring her smile, he showed her his elongated canines. Would she be frightened? He hoped not, because he desperately longed to sink his fangs into her lily-white flesh. To take her lifeblood into him as she took his cock into her—forever balancing the scales of their union.

“You look like a wolf,” she said.

“Does that frighten you?”

“No. I’ve always thought wolves were noble creatures.”

He laughed. “You would not think so if you had ever met a warg.”

Moving his smile to her chest, he pulled down the left cup of her bra, exposing her breast. Setting upon the perfect pink nipple, he sucked and flicked to heighten her arousal as he reached between her legs. Being careful not to catch her maidenhair, he closed his fingers around the delicate lace of her panties and plucked them from her body like a faded bloom.

“Will it hurt?”

They were so attuned to one another, her knowing what he intended did not surprise him. “Only the bite,” he reassured her. “But if it should hurt overmuch, or you want me to stop—for any reason—just say the word.”

“I trust you, Axel. Make me your equal. Make me your eternal beloved.”

Her words, as powerful as Thor’s hammer, struck him squarely in the chest, making him as weak all over as in the aftermath of battle madness. He leaned over and brushed his lips across hers, sampling her nectar. Longing dragged its tongue from the tip of his cock to the base of his cods. Parting her thighs, he moved between them and posted himself at her gateway.

“Are you sure about this? About us?”

“Yes.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes soft and inviting. “Tell me what you’re feeling, Jenna.”

“I’m a little afraid, but mostly happy.”

Her words filled him with warmth. “I’m happy, too.”

He pushed forward, watching her face for any sign she had changed her mind. Her body closed around his, all moist heat and sheathing pleasure. Never had he felt so gratified. Or so comfortable. He felt as if he were coming home again after centuries of wandering in the dark or awakening from a nightmare to find he was safe in bed beside the wife he loved, but had forgotten in the dream.

She completed him in ways he never believed another person could. Closing his eyes, he drove deeper, sluicing through clasping heat until the hair at his groin met the fiery red nest between her thighs. He groaned and shuddered under the ensuing wave of intense enjoyment. Holy Valhalla, she felt divine.

“Jenna,” he gasped.

“Axel,” she breathlessly whispered.

Easing back, he thrust with more vigor. Moving one hand to where their bodies were joined, he worked his finger through her pubic curls to the epicenter of her pleasure. As he caressed her swollen bud, she clenched so tightly around him he nearly unloaded. Halting his thrusting, he breathed through the urge until he regained control. Then, while still teasing her clitoris, he bent over her, drew her left nipple into his mouth, and bit down.

His teeth pierced delicate flesh. Blood, metallic and salty, flooded his mouth. She wailed in pain and bucked her hips. He held on, sucking and swallowing like a ravenous infant.

Little by little, her body relaxed under his. The scrumptious sensations coursing through him were beyond human experience. He had been lifted onto a higher plane, elevated to a state of pure consciousness.

Having fallen in battle, he was gulping the restorative mead of the Valkyrie who’d come to escort him to Valhalla. He was lost in a dream, but fully awake; flying, but still locked in coitus; himself, but also part of everything else.

She convulsed around him, arched against him, and cried out—from excruciating pleasure this time. Still drinking her blood, he thrust into her madly as she writhed under him like a wild animal. His orgasm gathered in his cods, tightening his body like a drawn bow. The tension increased until it bordered on pain. Then, it snapped, shooting fiery arrows of bliss through every inch of him.

When the dizzying climax had passed, he pushed up on his arms and looked down at her. She was limp from the loss of blood and her eyes were staring and glazed.

“Jenna…” He bent to kiss her. “You must drink from me now.”

Pushing himself up on his arms, he lifted his right wrist to his mouth, tore open the vein with his teeth, and pressed the bleeding wound to her lips. While she drank, he kept his cock buried inside her. He was still rock hard, ready for another go as soon as she recovered. Human blood had that effect on him, which always seemed nonsensical, since blood was full of iron—the bane of all faeries.

* * * *

Axel could not stay with Jenna while she recovered, but each night, he brought her a gift. Wildflowers he’d gathered in the glen; a piece of antler into which he’d carved a heart crossed by two arrows—an Old Norse symbol of sensuality, eroticism, and love; a branch inscribed with a symbol he called a tine of true love; a magic wand into which he’d also carved a runic inscription; and a book explaining the meaning and symbolism of the glyphs.

Though she cherished all of these gifts, her favorite by far was the book of poems he’d brought her by one of her favorites—Christina Georgina Rossetti, the daughter of poet Gabriele Rossetti and the sister of painter and poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

The night Axel brought her the book, he’d read several of the verses aloud, which spoke so deeply to her heart she’d actually wept.

Tonight, she and her tender-hearted warrior had arranged to meet at midnight under the canopy of the ash beside an old well. “Faeries are powerless to harm anyone standing in the shadow of an ash tree,” he’d explained while drawing the map she now carried.

As she approached the meeting place, Jenna gazed at the waning moon with a hollow feeling in her chest. Over the time it had taken to recover from the blood exchange, she had watched the glowing silver ball dwindle to a half circle. Soon, it would be gone—as would her beloved knight, whose approaching departure was tearing her apart.

The days would be easier to endure than the nights. She’d be starting her new job at the library soon and needed to find a place to live and get settled. Unfortunately, everything she owned was still in boxes at the vicarage in Ayr.

Yesterday, she’d sent an e-mail to William, asking him to ship her belongings to Rosemarkie. She’d kept the note short and sweet, saying nothing about either past or future. He didn’t need to hear she was happier without him. She just hoped his non-response didn’t mean he was going to be surly about sending her things.

Three low hoots startled her out of her ruminations. Looking in the direction of the sound, she spied a large gray owl perched on the branch of a nearby tree. The huge yellow eyes were trained on her. She’d seen the same bird a few times before, always watching her with an intensity that gave her goosebumps.

Unnerved, she moved on toward the old well where she was meeting Axel to cast the
sian
to protect him during his quest. He’d written down the words she was to say on the back of the map. As she rounded the next bend, she saw him—her knight, as naked and resplendent as the first time she spied him bathing under the waterfall.

He was using his wand, which he called a
gandr
, to draw symbols in the dirt as he chanted, “Might of the gods, come to me. Might of the gods, empower me. Might of the gods, work through me.”

In the silvery glow of the waning moon, he was almost too beautiful to look upon. Her throat tightened and her heart swelled with an affection bordering on pain. God, how she loved this god-like man. How would she ever do without him when he left her?

She brushed away the tear that rolled down her cheek and stepped closer to Axel and the well. The crunch of her footsteps brought his eyes to hers. As he offered her a bone-melting smile, desire ignited between her legs.

With a hard swallow, she bit her lip. She was supposed to be clearing her mind in preparation for magic, but all she could think about was ripping off her clothes and pouncing on her beautiful shaman-warrior. Ever since the blood exchange, her libido had been in overdrive. He’d kissed, caressed, and held her during the nights that followed, always stopping short of bringing her to climax.

“The stored energy of orgasm denied,” he’d explained, “will make your magic more potent.”

If that were true, her five years with William should have made her more powerful than Merlin. Tonight, however, she’d have her release. After she’d cast the charm and they’d exchanged their handfasting vows, he’d promised to make love to her under the stars.

“Are you ready?”

As warmth flooded her system, she touched her face and offered him an alluring smile. “More than ready.”

He grinned, having obviously read her mind. “I meant, ready to cast the
sian
.”

Stepping up to him, she set a hand on his chest and lifted her face for his kiss. How could she not adore him when he already knew her so well?

He gave her a peck on the lips before helping her remove her clothes. When they both were naked, she took up his wand while he stood at the center of the cast circle with his arms outstretched and his face toward the sky. She walked around him nine times, stilling her thoughts and gathering her power. When she was ready, she stopped before him and, while visualizing a golden light surrounding him, drew a star in the air with the wand.

“No weapon shall wound thee,

Nor river drown thee,

Nor woman wile thee,

Nor creature maul thee.

From the crown of thy head,

To the soles of thy feet,

I cover thee with the armor of Odin,

Fill thy heart with the courage of Freya,

And place in thy hand the hammer of Thor.”

Jenna stepped back and looked him over. Though the bond between them felt stronger, his outward appearance remained unaltered. “How will we know if it worked?”

“When somebody tries to harm me and fails in the attempt.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “So, is that it?”

“That’s it for the
sian
.” He stepped to her.

Longing shivered through her. Suddenly, she was acutely aware neither of them had on a stitch. Tingling with the need for physical connection, she looked up at him. “What now?”

There was so much tenderness in his expression. It was all the excuse she needed to push up on her tiptoes and offer him her mouth. Her heart rejoiced when his arms went around her. He pulled her against him, flesh to flesh, and pressed his mouth against hers.

As their tongues entangled, her blood caught fire. He might belong to Queen Morgan; he might never return from his quest; but right here, right now, he was all hers.

Too soon, he pulled away. In the soft moonlight, she could see lack of interest wasn’t the problem. Clearly, he wanted her as much as she wanted him, so why had he stopped? Then, she saw the fur blanket he’d left on the wall of the well.

Taking up the quilt of pelts, he walked toward the trees. She followed, thrumming with curiosity and shivering from the cold. After spreading the blanket out under the canopy of branches, he took her by the arm and brought her down to sit beside him.

“Now, we handfast,” he said, answering her question at last.

He looked just the way he had that night he’d taken her virginity—except his eyes were now filled with love. That night seemed a lifetime ago.