Myla By Moonlight (23 page)

Taric growled deep in his chest, his brows dipping with brewing lust. “It’s impolite to intrude on others with magic, even harmlessly.”

There was no rebuff to his words. His tone was more awed expectation and she tugged the loose gown over her head. Lust traced her skin with whispered breath. She allowed the cotton fabric to pool to the floor and his throat bobbed with a swallow. She leaned closer, her dark hair feathered across her shoulder to graze his stomach.

“Yes, it is. But I didn’t set out to peek in. I was just curious.”

“About what?” Husky, his voice flowed like melted cream along her bones. “What did you see that intrigued you?”

Her face close to his, she smiled wickedly. “Shall I show you?”

One stolen kiss led to another in place of his answer. His roughened hands buried deep in her hair and pulled her across his chest.

Above him, she delighted in the freedom. Angling back, she made him rise to reach her kiss. Power filled her. Although lying under him was exquisite, having him beneath her sent tingles vibrating through her. This she had not seen but she liked it, reveled in it, took advantage of the newfound liberties.

One knee crept along his leg for balance. He gripped her hips and lifted her to straddle his thighs like a saddle. This perch she delighted in with a hearty laugh smothered beneath a deepening kiss. She resisted, too filled with the intoxication of flirtation to submit just yet. From the arch of his brow to the thrust of his jaw, she lavished light, caressing kisses. She nipped the corners of his mouth, caught his lip in her sharp teeth and slicked her tongue inside his mouth.

Taric’s hands rose from her hips to cup her breasts but she tugged them away with a lilting smile, lacing her fingers in his and placing them on the pillow beside his tawny head.

He grinned up at her. “You’re teasing.”

Myla licked her upper lip. “I am…exploring.”

“Exploring? I see…and I approve. Explore at your leisure, my guardian.”

She did. From the hard knot of his shoulder to the taut curve of his bicep, across the bump of his Adam’s apple to the valley below, along the ridge of his collarbone to the plane of his chest, Myla explored with tongue and taste. He grew from firmness to hard iron between her wide-spread thighs.

Age-old knowledge inborn in all women spread through her blood and she circled her hips, riding him through the linen saddle. His groan spiraled though her belly like a tornado, churning longing and lust into a storm she could not contain.

His fingers tried to slip from hers and she tightened her grip around his wrists, holding him. Shock turned his eyes to amber. They had both known she was stronger but she’d never used that strength on him until now.

“Stop, Myla.” The command in his tone was firm but not unkind and she chose to ignore it. Rather, she rocked her hips, grinding her warmth along his length until his jaw turned white. The cords of his neck tightened and he snarled another groan. She rocked harder, still confining him. Sweat beaded on his brow and his groin arched toward her, raising her off her knees. “Myla, let go.”

The hard peaks of her nipples bit into his chest and she swooped her tongue along his earlobe.

“No.” She sank her teeth into his neck.

Her simple defiance made lust blaze hotter in the room and he arched harder, nearly bucking her off his body. Her laughter trilled like a bird but she did not release her hold. Thighs clamped tightly, she moved with him, wet heat fused to iron.

Moist lips left his neck and scored a pathway to his bondmark. The rough edges felt strange under her tongue, knobby and coarse compared to the smooth expanse of flesh around it. Her tongue lapped at the mark, a cat lapping milk from a bowl. Beneath her hands, his forearms twitched and tugged, fighting her. She would not concede. Taric was wasting his strength.

“Myla, I mean it, stop, I don’t like this.”

Her laugh purred against his skin. “Settle, Taric. You said I could explore and I am.”

A frustrated growl broke from him. From his bondmark, she peppered kisses to the flat male nipple that puckered under her lips. A sharp nip jolted him and he leapt against her core. He pulled against her palms and she relented, trailing her fingers down his arms before reaching for his waistband.

These breeches were in her way. She slid off his legs and tugged them downward with too much force. He sprang from confinement like a rearing stallion and captured her attention. Neither had doused the candles and the light filling the room fell full on his naked flesh. Unlike the darkened shadows of his tent or the shaded pitch of his bedchamber, now she saw everything with clear vision.

The touch of fingers and tongue had removed the mystique but the visual widened her eyes and curved her lip. His legs shuffled the constricting material away with a harsh kick. Oh, she was going to make sure he had a memory to cling to after she left him. One that would fill his nights with remembered passion and heat.

A sudden thought seized her heart in icy fingertips. He would remember her but another woman would one day warm his bed. Taric would find another woman as Balic had. She knew it and it plunged a dagger into her soul.

But this night, he was hers. He would always be hers. Myla forced the knot of tears down her throat. How she would miss him.

Her tongue traced along his shaft, found the pulse there and stroked it. Taric moaned. His palms curled around her shoulders, tugging her toward his mouth. She allowed the slow ascent, dipping her tongue to the curve of his hip, his navel, up to the flat of his sternum. The marked edges of his teardrop burn stuttered her breath. So close to his heart and yet so far from his arms.

How could she stand to leave him? To face a hollow existence watching from within while he lived a safe life with another? A sob pushed against the swallowed knot in her throat and rose with swelling force. Her mouth filled with salted bitterness while the sweetness of his kiss flowed across her lips. To banish her growing misery, she took his kiss deeper.

Sadness. Taric tasted sadness. The difference from her normal berry-wine essence jarred him and he yanked his head back, eyes searching her face. “Myla?”

“Shh.”

Her hush did little to soothe him. He sat, cupped her cheek and gazed deeply into her liquid eyes. She was near tears. Before he could voice his concern, she flung her hand wide and every candle in the room snuffed itself, plunging the room into darkness. She was hiding from him. His mighty warrior of a magical guardian was hiding her tears in the darkness like a woman.

“Tell me,” he urged.

“Love me,” she pleaded.

Love her he did, without restraint or impediment. The gentle kisses he rained on her cheeks licked away the barest trace of salt. The hands which caressed her eased her trembling from whatever she feared to shivers of pleasure. Aching to bring her whatever joy he could, even the temporary joy of blissful flight, Taric took her to places he never had reached for before. Each touch was softer, more delicate, more prolonged than they had ever shared. Slick beneath his tongue, her feminine flesh quivered in honeyed ecstasy. He stretched her release for an eternity. The rasped sound of his name was tinged with tears.

Her trembling slowed and Taric rose to embrace her. The shuddered sobs against his shoulder were mingled sorrow and satisfaction. Flushed and warm, her body melted into his, her arms holding him tightly.

Too tightly. A dark premonition touched him. This didn’t feel like celebrating and looking toward the future, this felt like…goodbye. Panic spiked his blood with an icy spear. A shiver shot through his heated skin.

This had begun so differently. She’d flirted and teased, pinned him to the bed and rubbed her glorious silk against him, driving him crazy, and now she was crying in his arms. Why? Myla was his everything, his heartbeat and his breath. He knew her like no other in the world did but he could not fathom why she wept now.

Gliding his lips along the swell of her breast, he grew frantic to erase her unhappiness. He had to dispel the gloom around them. He needed her to laugh, to smile, to find the joy in their loving she always had.

Inspiration struck with the crack of a whip. Myla had laughed and smiled when she was teasing him, ergo, he would become mouse to her cat. He swallowed his control, his dominance. As prince, he had never been in anyone’s command. He
was
the command. In their loving, Myla had looked to him for instruction, guidance and direction. Even when she stretched her boundaries, learned and explored, she had never taken the reins. She was his protector but had submitted to his touch. Now, he would be the submissive to see her smile. Willing as he was, it was difficult to make the move.

Then love gave him the strength to submit.

He gripped her hips and spun her above him. Myla gasped, her hands shooting out for balance. His back settled against the coverlet, he seated her on his lap and cradled himself in the folds of her wet heat. In the dim light of the open window, his eyes caught hers and he raised his arms, returning his hands to where she had pressed them. He gave her the power of their union. He was hers to command.

Surprise whisked the sadness from her eyes. Delight and resolve firmed in them, burying her tears. In the faint radiance of a faraway moon, her gaze began to glow. A hint of danger seeped into her face.

Taric held his breath, sure she was about to shift to her jaguar but she didn’t. The sensuality of her cat flowed through her body and she stretched above him, arching her back with feline fluidity. Blood rushed to his groin and he throbbed against her softness.

Her hungry kiss stole his breath and he couldn’t stop his hands from falling to her waist, drawing her closer. Admitting he was a terrible submissive, he stroked her spine.

Her tongue dove into his mouth. Did he imagine it or was her tongue rougher? It licked at his mouth with sandpapered grit. Shivers of forbidden ecstasy wracked his bones. Without thought, his hands slid into her hair, angling her head to reach her mouth more, to deepen the kiss.

Myla nipped his lips with fierceness and he nipped back. His reaction pleased her and she purred deep in her chest. The erotic sound stirred his blood. She did not want a submissive, she wanted a playmate. She wanted a mate.

Along his cheek and neck, Myla nuzzled and purred, scoring with sharp bites. A pure animal essence filled the room and something inside Taric responded. Ancient urges surged.

He needed her now.

She rocked along his fully rigid shaft and her moan grew. He tried to lift her, to enter the heat he craved but she clamped her knees to his hips. Thrusting upward, he tried again but she rode his attempt with a chuffing laugh. She was in control and not ready to permit him release yet.

Instinct gripped them. Her nostrils flared. Openmouthed, she inhaled. Her pink tongue darted out, tasting the passion in the air before sliding across lips he wanted again. Her chest heaved and her eyes glowed. A savory flavor colored her kiss, blackberry with a hint of spice. It increased his hunger until he was famished for her. The heat between them had never been hotter. It scorched him, inflamed him.

With catlike grace, she arched her back and ground against him, tormenting him. His hands cupped her breasts, the tight peaks begging for his touch. She snarled her pleasure and leaned into him. The pebbled tip he tongued beaded tighter, changing her snarl to a trill.

Without warning, Myla raised her hips and seated him in her velvet grip. Exquisite elation bolted through him and he moaned against her breast. Had she ever been this hot inside? Was she always this slick for him? How could she be tighter than the first time he took her?

Passion seized him and he thrust up. She rotated her hips, taking him deeper, and his groan mixed with her purr. Myla arched and circled, rose and fell, sheathed and milked. A fine sheen of sweat coated them both. With the promise of relief within reach, Taric rocked hard into her and she pulled away. Her weight left his hips. A chill rushed him, her body heat fleeing, but his desire spiked higher.

Myla leaned back on the mattress and a feminine
mrrrow
echoed in the room.

“Come and get me, Taric. Take me.”

He needed no further prompting. He burned for her. He lunged and she rolled. His hands, which had aimed for her hips, met her smooth, rounded bottom. She leapt to her knees and caught his eyes over her shoulder. Like the Myla-cat in Claverham Castle, she shook her tail at him, winking in pure human wanton lust.

Primal need took hold. Rising to his knees, he plunged inside without mercy. Rumbled satisfaction vibrated his ribs as he filled her from behind, deeper than ever before. He gasped as her wet walls surrounded him with a fiery heat.

Heat.
Yes, Myla acted like a cat in heat, arching into his thrusts, pushing back to him with a growling rumble. An instinctual hunger propelled him and all thoughts of gentleness were lost. He was as much an animal as she was. Gripping her hips, he let the basal need take over.

Flesh met flesh with an intensity which blanked his mind to everything but the feel of her, the scent of their joining and the pounding of his blood. A harsh grunt slipped from his tongue and she responded with a guttural chuff. If she was in heat, she took him with her and baked him with her fire.

Against the linen sheets, her fingers curled and scraped with a loud rasp. A vise-like tremor shook her sheath and she shot upward, her shoulders meeting his chest. With her head against his neck, Myla ground down and back, a wordless scream ripping from her throat.