Noah (15 page)

The Vampire slowly began to inspect her surroundings, walking with ease throughout the sprawl of rooms in the lower level of the Demon King’s holdings. The staff was used to strangers coming and going, their master liberal with his open invitations, so she wasn’t questioned as she wandered around.

Of course, being a senior Vampire and quite skilled at becoming a part of the shadows around her, she found it almost too easy to slip past the sentries that
were
posted here and there. Jasmine would have thought that Noah’s guards would have more experience detecting her type at this point, what with the traitor Demon Ruth at large and rogue Vampires tagging after her. It was assumed that Ruth and Nico, her Vampire compatriot and an old enemy of Damien’s, had survived their last battle with the Vampire Prince and his new Lycanthrope bride. A battle Jasmine had attended. If those turncoat Nightwalkers had survived that kind of devastation, then they were fearsome enemies indeed.

Jasmine left the shadows as she continued to explore. Everything around her was made of painstakingly laid English stone. It made almost every room a uniform shale or dark gray color. Every laid carpet and heavy hung drape was just as elegantly detailed and anachronistic as the rest of the place.

It was equal to the citadel in which she lived as counselor to her Prince. Since Damien had only opened court and living quarters just at the beginning of the year, there had not yet been time to have its blank walls filled or the touches added that would make a home. Here it was obvious that family had lived in the maze of rooms.

Compared to these personalized and elegantly adorned rooms, Damien’s citadel was decorated like a monastery. It probably had not improved much over the past nine months because its new mistress had lived all of her life in a monastery. The least Syreena could do was try and be like other Lycanthropes. They, at least, knew what it meant to enjoy the richer comforts of the world. Of course, Jasmine’s quarters were decorated with all these elegant comforts and an assortment of sins in mind. Had she been in charge of the—

Jasmine stopped the fruitless thought.

She would never be the mistress of Damien’s household again. Not unless some unfortunate accident befell the Princess. However, even she couldn’t take delight in contemplating that. Damien was in love with Syreena, and if anything ever happened to her, it would destroy him. Jasmine would never want to see that, no matter how much that woman got on her nerves. Ignoring her deeper personal feelings in the matter, she focused solely on the fact that if Damien were to die any time soon, she would very likely end up taking his place just to keep their race from being run by some arrogant jackass.

Frankly, she wasn’t the right sort of Vampire to play royalty, and since she could think of no one better, she would rather help maintain the status quo. Damien had ruled for centuries, and she would see that he continue to do so in as much happiness as she could manage.

Jasmine stopped short in her thoughts and in her steps as she sensed something out of place nearby. Curious, she turned toward a nearby door and touched the handle lightly.

Human.

There was no mistaking the heat and scent of a human, even through the door. It was not usual for Demons and humans to associate. Not full-bred humans, at least. Jasmine was already beginning to know how to sense the difference between usual humans and the Druids that were suddenly being resurrected into Demon society. She could be mistaken, as the talent was new, but she could swear there was nothing Nightwalker about the human she was sensing beyond the door. What was more, the mortal was not alone.

Now, this is interesting,
Jasmine thought with delight.

One minute it mattered who and what they were; the next it didn’t. The next instant was about nothing but chemistry, wanting, and gripping, starving needs that had yearned for this connection for far too long. The moment where Destiny demanded obedience.

Kestra’s fingers slid into the crisp, curling hair at Noah’s collar. She couldn’t help herself. She had dreamed of him as often as he had dreamed of her. Whether she would admit to her needs or not, she craved the reality of him. The feel of his thick hair curling between and around her fingers was rich realism. Her opposite hand skimmed fast and hot over his clothing in search of far more carnal sensations. Kestra shaped him with her fingers and palm, down his chest, over his ribs, and around to his back, a thorough exploration of the musculature of his flank.

The Demon King responded, his broad hands just as alive and active over her long, sensual shape and fit contours. Her body was truly athletic, firm beneath the stroke of his searching palms, but it was easy enough to find the soft, feminine curves that were generous and delightful. His huge palms cupped her hips and bottom, stroking and drawing her into his body, making sure she felt their tight fit. He traveled upward, curving into her waist.

Noah’s hands slid up her sides beneath her arms, only his thumbs breaching the curve of her rib cage, sliding up toward her breasts. Kestra was braced between his body and an equally solid wall. She lifted one stiletto-heeled foot from the floor, her knee drawing slowly up the outside of those soft breeches he wore. The fabric of his clothing was the only thing besides his hair that was soft. The rest of him was like granite baked in the sun, immovably hard and incredibly hot.

The moment they had entered the same room it was flint and steel, with the touching of their bodies becoming the major spark. Once he’d cornered her and kissed her, that was what had truly set her to burn. A single kiss. Just as he was kissing her now, hot and skillful, his tongue catching hers again and again until she burned from head to toe just from the fire of his mouth.

She’d needed this for so long. This wildness and heat and danger. A career of death-defying escapades, not to mention thrill-seeking hobbies that most men would shy from, and none of it had shaken her, stirred her, or brought her to understand the truth of danger.

Now it was here, all around her, invading every pore and flushing her with adrenaline as it pumped into all corners of her bloodstream. She knew that this was danger in its rawest form, this man and all the places within her he had the potential to reach. She had known it from the very first time she had fallen asleep and then fallen into the dream of his determined hands.

Hands that were now sliding up her body with ferocious intent.

She felt the stroke of his thumbs on the undersides of her breasts with astonishing sensitivity. He broke away from her mouth, using his hold beneath her arms to jerk her farther up between his body and the wall. Instantly his lips were burning trails of flame down her throat. Whirlwind emotions welled up in her. She didn’t know how she had borne life without the heat of his mouth, hands, and body pressing against hers. The thought was surprisingly dependant for the fiercely independent nature of her soul.

Noah had learned her in dreams, studied her like he would any of his treasured tomes. But this was like a brand-new language. Soft beneath his hands, warm against his body, delicious against his tongue. She even tasted like candy, sweetly melting beneath his mouth as he stroked his tongue over the rise of her breast where it was exposed by her neckline.

Clothing suddenly seemed wasteful and clumsily hampering.

Kestra abruptly came alive, catching his dark head in her hands and dragging him up to her so she could devour his mouth. She needed that rich, masculine taste against her lips and tongue. She was starving for the reality of it. Even as she entrapped him with her kiss, she began pulling at his clothes. Noah reached out to catch on to something far steadier than himself, his fingers coming to curl around the corner of the stone wall. She managed to free one of the tails of his shirt from the waistband of his pants and her eagerly searching hand found his naked skin beneath it. He broke from her mouth and gasped, unable to help himself. Nothing could burn him, and yet her touch was like fire exploding over the entire surface of his skin, and this time he felt the singe of it soul deep.

Noah was truly hot to her touch. It was hardly a metaphor to say he scorched her palms as her left hand joined the right in her foray beneath his shirt. Instinct ought to have made Kestra pull away, jerking back just as she would if she had touched a hot stove. Mere instinct, however, didn’t stand a chance in the face of the pull as base as evolution that now gripped them both.

“Months…” he muttered against her ear, following it with a soulful groan as her strong fingers glided up his back beneath his shirt, over his shoulders, and back down again.

Months
. Kestra knew what he meant. There was a world of torture and agonizing frustration in that one word, a world she was all too familiar with. Like long-distance lovers reunited after too long a separation, each pushed past any and all simplistic needs. There would be time for all of that later, perhaps. Niceties were not what either of them needed or wanted.

Noah’s hand pushed at the hem of her dress as hers fell on his waistband and fly. They alternately kissed and then drew for breath. Noah found the thin holster to her weapon strapped around her thigh and he yanked it from between her legs, the tearing of the Velcro fasteners sounding just as satisfying as the holster leather did when it hit the floor.

Noah heard her laugh briefly at his actions, the humor bracketed by murmurs of distracted pleasure and encouragement. Still it made an impact on him, skipping down every major artery in his body, flooding him with renewed fervor and need, though the initial emotions had never flagged.

“Don’t stop,” he heard her demand of him. Using the wall at her back for leverage, Kestra made sure he felt every inch of her burning body, broadcasting its message of hunger. The effect was like a heart attack, tossing the beat out of syncopation and stealing his breath away.

It threw him off stride enough to allow her to flip their positions against the wall. Stone bit into his bare back, making him realize she had freed him of his shirt entirely. He did not give it another thought, though, as she ran her hands down the front of his body, seeking out the details of his body’s landscaping with bold, efficient fingers. Noah ground his back teeth together as she tested his patience and his sanity. She wasn’t shy or hesitant, exactly as he would have expected, instead sliding down the entire length of his body as she investigated him strictly for the sake of arousing him. Her hands went first, her mouth following in a wicked little trail of expectant fire.

Need clutched at him, ferocious and violent in its anticipation. Her hands bracketed his waist so she could lick and nip her way down his belly. It was quick and thorough, meant to tease and succeeding famously. His hands locked into the white silk of her hair, the strands caught into his fists. He closed his eyes because it was unbearable to watch her. He couldn’t keep his sanity if he watched her.

Kestra’s hands slid down to his hips and without hesitation sought the feel of his straining erection through the fabric of his breeches. The sensation of her sure, strong hands went surging through him with volcanic force as she took in his form and heat, molded her fingers to the thickened hardness of him. She kept her curious, stroking hands against him but she came back up to her full height. She reached for his mouth, licking at his lower lip with a slow sensual stroke to get him to open his eyes. She made a deep, appreciative sound as she noted the hunger he couldn’t keep at bay within his gaze.

“You feel so good,” she whispered against his mouth, making him groan in response to her observations and touch. Kestra could feel the fine trembling that shuddered through his body. She liked having the power to do that to him. She had always liked it.

She pushed just a little further. Waiting. Wanting.

Kestra slid her fingers over the closures of his fly, releasing him from the strangling confinement of the fabrics. She closed her fingers and her palm around him. He was scorching hot, incredibly hard, and she could feel his pulse surging thickly through him. She went one step further, stroking a sly thumb over the very sensitive tip of him.

Danger.

She felt it explode out of him like nuclear fire. She gasped when he locked his fingers around her wrists, removing her taunting hands, and then reached for her. Both his hands were suddenly gripping her with bruising strength as she was hauled up off her feet. Her limber gymnast’s body seemed to fly with the ease it took to bring them together, sex to sex, a burning massage of two pelvises communicating the intent of the same promise in need of fulfilling.

Kestra’s hand flew out, bracing against the wall near his head as she threw back her head in a silent cry of overheated anticipation. He had hold of her hips even as the vise of her legs wrapped around him. He made damn sure she could feel the heat and raging hardness she had created.

The thong she wore gave way with a snap as he whipped it off her body. He immediately sought for her once she was exposed to him, his hand slipping between their writhing bodies. She cried out with a sense of shock as his fingers slid over her, searching through ready wetness and heat. Noah caught that cry against his tongue. Kestra felt the flick of a teasing thumb as a long, seeking finger slowly made its way into her body. Kestra shuddered at the unexpected pleasure of it, at how easily he riled her senses. He slid a second insistent finger into her just as his teeth closed gently around her nipple, right through the fabric of her dress.

“Oh!” she exclaimed breathlessly.

Then his eyes were locking with hers, his mouth hovering close to her aching lips. “In all these months,” he said breathlessly, “one of the things I wanted most was to hear my name on your lips.” But he didn’t request it. He merely stated the desire and decided to let her do with it what she would. “I am so delighted you are ready for me,
Kikilia
,” he murmured against her lips as he made tight little circles around her clitoris with his thumb, making her moan and arch into him.