Trefoil (21 page)

Juices flooded him and he moaned at the sensation, plunging deeper, harder, faster into her wet slit. The walls of her pussy convulsed around him, and she felt him grow rock hard. His muscles stiffened, carved abs taut and biceps straining. They quivered at the edge of orgasm, green eyes hot on grey, his blood pulsing in her veins.

In a rush, they exploded, her pussy pulsating as he poured his come into her in long spurts. She held her breath and rode the wave of release. They opened to each other in entirely new ways. The second heartbeat that had resided in her chest shifted to reside in her own heart.

Nathan. Nate. Mine,
she said into him, and he drew the words tenderly into his soul, where they would live forever.

As the last contractions flowed away, he dropped his forehead to hers.
It’s complete.

She leaned up and kissed the lone tear that streaked his cheek.
That’s not all,
she said, lifting her wrist.

He gasped and rolled her on top of him without separating their bodies. He clasped her wrist, which was not only bare of the wedding cuffs, but unblemished. John’s medallion was no more.

A grin spread over his handsome features, and the bracket appeared about his mouth. She kissed it softly, trailing her lips across his as relief flooded her. The shaking was gone, leaving behind a warmth in her soul she never could have imagined.

They smiled into each other’s eyes as she stretched atop him, limbs entwined and her hair fanning over his chest and arm. He locked her to him with an arm around her waist, the other hand toying lightly with one breast. He rolled and pinched the nipple between his fingers, teasing it into a hard bud once more.

“I never thought it would feel like this,” she whispered against his skin.

“Me either. Lillian, I love you. Now we’ll never be parted.”

Nathan rubbed his lips back and forth across Lillian’s unmarked wrist, tasting nothing but her sweetness. It was finished. She was his for eternity. Deep in the shelter of his soul, her name had been carved. And when he looked into her grey eyes, his light marked her like a candle glow.

She quivered beneath him, quivered within him. He took her down once more, mouth to mouth, to breast, belly, lower still to the slippery lips of her pussy. He scraped her sensitive inner thighs with his beard while tasting the thick lips. Her flavor mingled with his on his tongue.

His hands traveled back up her body to the mounds of her breasts. He kneaded them gently, feeling the nipples harden beneath his palms. She moaned and arched. Beneath them, the feather mattress gave like no mattress they’d been on together. It sagged perfectly beneath them, cradling her ass and the dip of her lower back, cradling her spine and the immortal tattoo.

But the most beautiful tattoo she bore was the one over her heart. Nathan’s dark red blood marked her—a thick circle of blood with four tiny lightning bolts inside, representing north, south, east and west. At the center, the North Star was the true guiding point of the compass. It had led him to her countless times.

He pinched her nipples hard, his cock stirring once again at the reaction of her body. Juices wet his tongue. He slipped his tongue into her slit, moving from her hot hole to the stiff swell of her clit. He loved the way her big clit filled his mouth and danced against his tongue. He wiggled it between his lips, making her hands twist in his hair.

“Mmmm,” he rumbled against her flesh. His fingers probed the blood medallion and she sucked in a breath at the new shocks that rent them. Electricity shot to his rod infusing it with need. His balls drew up tight against his body and ached, ready for another release. He would keep her in his bed for a decade, loving her.

The tip of his tongue found her core and he ground it gently into her body. He slipped one finger into her tight sheath, his cock pulsing at the hot, slick feel of her gripping his finger. God, how many times had he waited to slide into her body and own her? Now she was his.

She squeezed his shoulders, trying to draw him up her body. “Turn around. I want to taste you,” she begged.

A shiver ran through him at the thought of her sweet lips closing over his cock. He lifted his face and grinned. Then positioned himself atop her. The excitement he saw in her mind doubled his pleasure. She held his cock at the base and guided it toward her lips.

At the first flick of her tongue against his shaft, his muscles clenched. He bit down hard on his need to explode in her mouth right then and there. But he wanted to feel his entire cock in her mouth, the head nudging the back of her throat.

He drove his face into her pussy once more, submersing it in her delicious juices. She sucked the length of his cock into her mouth, making him moan. His hips rocked against her face. She cupped his balls in one hand, caressing them, stroking the sensitive flesh between his balls and anus.

He sucked her clit into his mouth and flicked his tongue against it rapidly. Around his finger, he felt the first contractions of her pussy walls. Her desire burned in her soul, bright and hot, feeding his passion. Their bodies rubbed against each other, her breasts soft and full against his belly.

She squeezed the root of his shaft, taking him in and sucking hard, then releasing and circling the head, where a string of pre-come wet her tongue. She swallowed his cream, begging for more.

Fill my mouth. I want to suck it all down.

Her hot words drove him to the edge. He plunged two fingers into her pussy, eating her ripe clit with fervor. Her ass rose and fell in time with his finger thrusts. He crooked a finger against the back wall of her sex, probing her g-spot. She started to come, suspended in a quivering release as he pounded his cock into her face. Her fluids soaked his hand and face, squirting in long, fast gushes.

Balls clenching hard, he felt the deep burn that meant he was about to blow. Her hot, moist mouth squeezed him, and he burst, pouring his seed into her. She gulped the thick come, fingernails lightly scraping his balls. He jerked against her, feeling her lips scald him, her tongue sweet torture.

Beneath his mouth, her contractions stilled. He rolled off and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her softly, tasting him on her, loving that she was bathed in his scent and he hers. Her smile infused him with new tenderness.

Amazing woman. Beautiful woman. Charming woman. Delicious woman,
he said.

She giggled.
Are we starting a new alphabet game? We haven’t finished the last.

What letter did we leave off at? U? U—unbelievable.

V—victorious.

He grinned at her selection.
W—well-loved.

X…um, what could I possibly use for X?

He flipped her beneath him.
Forget it. You’re mine. I’ve got all I need.

Me too.

As dawn’s first rays of light spread through the sky, the scene with John LeClair surfaced in her mind. His blood ran cold with renewed fury. He sat up abruptly, fists clamped in the sheets to keep from springing up and storming out in pursuit of that fucking man. The pieces of the puzzle were revealed to Nathan through their link, and it was unbearable. Knowing John LeClair had stolen her mortal life in order to possess her made Nathan boil. She squeezed her eyes shut at the memory. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes and wet the pillow.

Nathan wanted violence so bad he trembled with it. But first, his immortal mate needed him. He drew her against his chest, smoothing her hair. “Oh, Lillian, I’m sorry you’re hurting,” he whispered, trying to absorb her wracking sobs. When his fingertips found her tattoo, injecting her with a measure of calm, she sagged in his hold. “It’s all right now. You’re free. We’re together.” But he knew some of her tears were for the loss of John LeClair himself, for the love lost between them and the ending of a chapter.

She curled against his side and drifted to sleep while he watched the sky lighten, his emotion warring between passion, lust, and anger at John LeClair.

Suddenly, he heard tires crunch on snow. He roused Lillian, who had been sleeping mere minutes. When she saw the thoughts in his mind, she hurriedly dressed, shooting glances out the window at the visitors.

Dante’s Land Rover stood before the farmhouse, black against the glaring snow. Nathan clutched her hand and led her outside into the view of their four friends and one enemy—John LeClair.

“Nathan?” Dante questioned.

Nathan blinked into the glare. “It’s done. We’ve bonded. She’s mine,” he said, and lifted her unmarked wrist for all to see, especially John LeClair.

Maria gasped and leaned heavily on Dante. Will and Richard wilted with relief. They slapped one another’s shoulders. But John LeClair’s eyes snapped with rage.

Lillian stepped forward to shield Nathan from his rage, and John LeClair went berserk.

A roar rent the air. He charged across the yard. Nathan gripped her waist and put her aside, tossing a look at Will, who ran to tug her to safety.

Nathan and John LeClair collided like hammer to stone, rolling in the snow. John sank a punch in Nathan’s gut and the air whooshed from his lungs. They grappled, kicking and twisting, raining blows on each other.

“No,” Lillian cried. “Nate. John.”

Nathan’s mind processed that she now called his name first. That he held more importance. John slammed a fist into Nathan’s ear, making it ring. Nathan gave one back, knuckles scraping tooth. Blood welled on his hand, but he felt the give of John’s tooth with great satisfaction.

They rolled to their feet. “Let’s go, LeClair. You’ve had it coming your whole life, you filthy murderer.”

“Nate, stop,” came Lillian’s cry.

“Murderer?” Maria said from far off.

The men circled each other in the knee-deep snow drifted before the barn. Nathan’s blood roared in his ears. Adrenaline surged through him, spurring him to end it. He knew John LeClair couldn’t just walk away. It was death or nothing. But could Lillian forgive him if he took LeClair’s life?

“John, no,” she screamed as his fist rocked Nathan’s head.

His mouth split and he spit blood into the snow, laughing. Suddenly, John LeClair lunged for the open barn door, snagging a wood splitter, long-handled and sharp. With all the force he could muster, he swung it at Nathan, intending to remove him from the earth.

Someone whizzed past them, and Nathan looked up to see Will wielding a scythe. He swung it in a slow arc at John’s midsection just as Lillian stepped into the midst of the battle, arms outstretched to intercept the blow meant for John. The blade bit into her flesh and she collapsed with a grunt. Her pain struck Nathan before his mind could react. Blood poured from her mouth and chest wound

“Lillian! Oh, my God, no!”

Nathan dropped to her side, supporting her, wiping blood from her mouth as fast as it ran out. “Oh, no. No, no, no, baby. You can’t leave me now.” He felt his face drain of blood as her blood spurted into the snow.

Will hit the snow beside her. John collapsed on the other side.

“John,” she choked around her blood. “I forgive you.” Inside Nathan’s soul, she said,
I have loved you more than I ever thought possible. I’m sorry it was so short.

“No. You’re not going, Lillian. I love you,” Nathan burst out, pressing his face to her hair. She smelled of rusty blood and bile. She smelled of death.

“I will give my life for her,” said the gravelly voice of Ricardo.

All eyes flashed to him. He stood with palms up, as an offering.

“Will, you know what to do,” he said.

Will looked at Lillian, crumpled, lips blue, blood soaking the pristine snow. Nathan held Ricardo’s eyes for a long second, knowing this was right. Ricardo’s suffering would end and Lillian would be free to Walk with Nathan.

She was fading.

“Will,” Nathan cried.

Will did not hesitate. He grabbed the scythe and whirled on Ricardo, striking him squarely in the chest. Ricardo’s body fell slowly, covering Lillian’s, his life’s blood filling her veins and re-Making her. Her body began to jerk to life, her bloody hands lifting to embrace Ricardo’s limp body as a final smile grazed his lips. He had been her savior.

“Oh, God. Oh, Lillian,” Nathan said, clutching her to him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw John LeClair’s fist close around the handle of the abandoned wood splitter.

“Don’t move, LeClair,” ordered Will’s cold voice. “I’m going to do it to keep Nathan’s hands clean for his immortal mate. I’m going to do it for Lillian, for the life you stole from her. And I’m going to do it right this time.”

The wind of the blade whooshed, raising the hair on Nathan’s neck.

“No,” Lillian shrieked, pushing Ricardo’s dead body to the snow and crawling across the pool of blood to John. She threw her body over his.

“N. . . Nate,” he stuttered. Nathan knelt beside him, looking warily into the black eyes, the eyes of the man who had Made him and Made Lillian, creating a three-sided bond. “T. . . take care. . . of her,” LeClair grated out.

“I will,” Nathan answered.

“John, no matter what happened, you loved me, and you were a good husband.”

“Love…you…still.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, her tears falling fast.

His voice grew suddenly stronger as he said, “I Made two immortals in my time. And it seems I Made you for each. . . other.” Then his breathing hitched and his body relaxed into the snow. Lillian leaned forward and put her mouth over his, taking his last breath into her body.

Nathan disentangled her arms from John LeClair’s body and he lifted her against him. Her emotion roiled through him, a mixture of grief and shock and relief. She, too, had known it would come to this.

Will approached, looking dazed after taking the lives of two men. “Go take care of her, Nate,” he said raggedly.

He didn’t hesitate. He took Lillian into the bathroom, where he turned on the shower. Steam poured into the space while he stripped her, then himself, of their blood-soaked clothes. She stood frozen, eyes wide and staring.

He put her into the shower and supported her weight as the hot water poured over them. It swirled down the drain, red, then pink, then clear. Her mind was numb with shock, a haze of white.

Nathan fingered her spine and her knees buckled.

He swung her into his arms and stepped out of the shower with her. After he dried her and wrapped her in his robe, he stretched out on the feather mattress with her. She clung to him, one fist twisted in the back of his hair.

“It could have been you,” she whispered.

“It almost was you,” he said, closing his eyes and kissing her temple.

They both shuddered. “Ricardo was brave.”

He nodded against her, already feeling the loss of that friend. In turn, she felt John LeClair’s absence.

“We’re together. We’ll be okay,” he said. He looked into her eyes, shiny with tears.

She nodded. “I love you, Nate. I couldn’t have lived without you.”