Between Light and Dark (21 page)

Fiona had asked her about the picture and, upon learning whose likeness it was, suggested she bring it to the
Dumb Supper to honor Elaine. Ignoring a twinge of guilt,
she had declined.

Laurell turned back to her plate and away from the
empty chair next to her, which seemed to her both an accusation and a confirmation of her own lack of familial loyalty. She sipped a glass of merlot, and as the liquid pooled
in her belly, heat crept into her limbs that had nothing to
do with alcohol and everything to do with the yearning.

Her skin tingled and she sensed someone watching her.
Axiom. Her gaze twined with his. His silver eyes sparked
with a desire dark and deep. His obsidian hair shone in the
dim light cast by the chandelier above the table, and his
face looked tight and strained. He's having trouble holding his
ward, she thought.

Though he occupied the seat directly across from her, he
seemed much closer. The air around him pulsed, and tendrils of lust swirled through the air, caressing her bare arms
like fingers. Her responding shiver didn't have anything to
do with temperature.

How much longer could she hold her own ward? Axiom
clearly struggled. No offense to the ancestors, but when will this
supper end?

As though he'd heard her silent plea, Reese cleared his
throat and stood. "This concludes our time of silence, but our
love, respect, and admiration for those departed continues." He then offered an explanation of the meaning of Samhain,
the witch's New Year, and asked for everyone to state goals
and aspirations for the coming year.

Laurell tried to focus on his words, but that proved impossible, given the maelstrom of desire pulsing in and
around her.

The responses of the coven, their hopes and dreams and
plans for the time ahead, buzzed in and out of her consciousness until their voices mingled, transforming into the
white noise of static. She tapped the tabletop with one
hand, willing the yearning to calm.

Axiom's hand engulfed hers, sparking a jolt of pleasure
that momentarily kicked the air from her lungs. At her
sharp inhalation, Axiom rose and was at her side quick as
lightning. She didn't even startle at his inhuman speed, just
sighed in gratitude when, with one hand under her elbow,
he helped her from her seat.

"We must take our leave now," he said, perhaps a bit too
loudly. His declaration caused Dawna to jump and interrupted her litany of New Year's resolutions. Almost as one,
the coven turned to them with wide eyes and knowing
smiles.

Fiona jumped to her feet. "Give me just a few minutes,"
she said, then hurried from the room. Laurell suspected the
woman planned to perform some task at Shakti's Den.

Ten minutes later her suspicion was confirmed. Her limbs
trembled with a need so powerful, Laurell found it difficult
to walk to the cabin. She leaned on Axiom for support, but
couldn't help noticing that his breath sounded labored and
short-no doubt from his effort to keep the yearning under
control until they'd secured some privacy.

Inside the cabin, candles flickered from every windowsill
and available surface. Incense burned in one corner, nestled at the base of a four-foot-tall, golden-hued statute of Shiva and Shakti locked in a passionate embrace. The
sweet aroma filled the room. Paintings of gods and goddesses kissing, touching, holding one another-and one of
them doing much more than that-hung on the walls. She
might have blushed had the yearning not already squashed
her embarrassment.

A king-size bed dominated the space, sheathed in silky
sheets of crimson, violet, and amber. She stared, vaguely
aware of what that bed represented.

Then Axiom's large frame filled her vision, blocking her
view, and all thoughts of the bed, the room, and anything
else she might have conjured up fled. He trailed his fingers
over her cheek, traced her lips, and then lifted her chin until his smoldering gray eyes danced with hers. The way he
looked at her made her heart race with excitement.

"Are you ready for this?" he whispered.

"As I'm going to be," she replied, her voice wavering.

"I have longed for this moment since the first time I saw
you," he murmured. She felt her eyes widen at this admission, but hadn't the time to ponder what he meant before a
torrent of desire assailed her.

Axiom had released his hold on the yearning.

Laurell's precarious ward proved no match for the onslaught
of Axiom's unrestrained passion. Pleasure arched through
her and she grabbed his shoulders with fingers turned clawlike. His mouth crashed into hers and tasted, devoured, and
consumed. His tongue plundered, seeking hers, and she gave
it willingly. Images of a deeper and more intimate joining invaded her mind as his tongue darted between her lips and
then out again. In. Out.

Greedy hands tore at cumbersome clothing. A faint tearing noise met her ears as her dress gave way under Axiom's
fingers. She struggled to undo the buttons of his shirt with
shaking hands and sighed in satisfaction when he made
quick work of it himself. White dress shirt and black slacks
pooled between their feet, mating with brown dress and
black bra.

Somewhere along the way, she'd kicked off her shoes,
though she couldn't remember where. Apparently, Axiom
had kicked his off too, as he now stood before her utterly,
gloriously nude.

God, but he was a sight, all lean muscles and pale, almost
luminous skin with just the right amount of dark hair sprinkled over his chest and trailing to his groin. Desire-sharp,
almost painful-stabbed into her in response to the vision
of him hard and ready. She reached out, intending to wrap her fingers around the tender tip of his sex, but Axiom
stopped her.

"No, not yet," he said. He buried his hands in her hair
and his lips pressed hers again. She fell against him, heated
flesh molding to heated flesh. Her nipples tingled where
they rubbed against his chest. Her sex pulsed with need, and
she knew her panties were drenched.

His fingers left her hair and he lifted her easily, dropped
her to the bed, and blanketed her with his body. The
sheets, cool and soft against her hot skin, mocked the blaze
that raged through her veins. She gasped in delight as lips
and tongue tasted her neck, then suckled her ear.

She let her own hands explore him, trailed them along
his spine, and tickled, teased at the crease of his buttocks,
eliciting a harsh intake of breath from Axiom.

When did I get so bold?

The yearning, much as she'd previously hated it, destroyed her usual inhibitions. And right at that moment, as
Axiom's seeking mouth closed over one rigid and anxious
nipple and another current of sharp pleasure lanced her,
Laurell thought the yearning was a wonderful thing.

His tongue licked and teased first one erect nipple, then
the other. Cool air tickled her pubic mound and she dimly
registered Axiom pulling at her panties.

She started to lift her hips, desperate for his touch there,
in that place where she wept with desire, but before she
could, he let out a frustrated groan, and a second later the
thin scrap of cloth disappeared. Seeking fingers slid through
her wetness, a thumb swept softly over her engorged, sensitive nub, and she thrashed beneath him, unable to control
herself in response to the waves of exquisite pleasure his
touch produced.

Her breathing came faster, laborious. Axiom positioned himself between her legs then, and at the first nudge of his
aroused organ against her entrance, she gasped and her gaze
flew to meet his. His eyes glinted with sparks of silver and
light, his face taut with his struggle for control. He hesitated, waiting.

For what? she wondered. Ahhh. For me. He waited for her
acquiescence. For some reason, that small gesture meant
everything to her. The slightest tilt of her head signaled her
assent, and he plunged inside her, filling her completely.

More magical energy surged, and Laurell's body broke
into tremors. Her muscles twitched and pulsed as though
they'd turn her flesh inside out. Axiom slid his arms beneath her back and cradled her tightly. Her legs closed over
his hips and pulled him into her, and she recognized that
the same energy moved through him as his massive frame
shook and convulsed. He placed one palm on each side of
her face, forcing her gaze to his, as though to watch the ecstasy flicker across her features with each of his thrusts.

His movements inside of her were shallow, then deep.
More pleasure. More currents surged until her nerves were
raw from sensory overload. Then his jaw clenched and his
body tensed. A moment later he roared his release. A heat
so intense it bordered on pain shook her womb, and Laurell
cried out her surprise.

An inferno flared in her pelvis and she saw stars. It passed
as quickly as it had come, and she could see again. Axiom's
body grew still atop hers. She blinked, and released her viselike hold on his shoulders. He lifted his head from its resting
place in the crook of her neck and stared at her.

In that moment, she knew without a doubt that she'd
conceived. And by the look on his face, Axiom knew it too.

Hours later, Axiom cradled Laurell against his chest, where
she feigned sleep. He knew she was awake, he could sense it in the tenseness of her body and the way her pulse sped
when he brushed his finger over her neck. He observed
through hooded eyes the way the flickering candlelight cast
shadows over her creamy, voluptuous curves and highlighted the red streaks in her hair.

She seemed so small, so fragile there, curled into him, her
legs tangled with his, long lashes spiked against high cheekbones. His chest constricted with some unnamed emotion,
and he did not bother to try to reason that sensation away.

Instead, he let it simmer inside of him. If it was just this
body, this human flesh, that ached with adoration and tenderness for the mortal woman, he did not care. The feeling
was almost as pleasurable as their mating had been.

An erection stirred at the remembrance of Laurell's passionate response to his touch. His ability to experience her
pleasure had intensified his own, making him lose control.
He had intended to bring her to orgasm before seeking his
own release, but had underestimated the power of the
yearning coupled with Laurell's desire.

Now that the Earth Balancer lay safe inside her womb,
additional matings were unnecessary. There is no reason to
couple with her again. The yearning, no longed needed, had
dissipated. They could spend the months until the Earth
Balancer was born being merely civil and friendly if they
should choose to do so.

Axiom chose not to do so. He could not imagine those
long months without Laurell's flesh against his own, without seeing desire reflected in her exquisite hazel eyes. He
especially enjoyed his part in creating that desire.

At this thought, he decided that he had let her rest-or
at least, pretend to rest-long enough. His hand drifted
slowly along her spine, then cupped her round, full bottom.
He squeezed one cheek and let his finger tease the crevice
there. Her eyes flew open, and she jumped, startled.

He grinned with satisfaction. "Ah," he murmured, "did I
wake you?"

Her brow knit. "An unexpected hand on my ass will do
that." Her tone was light and teasing.

He shifted her to her back and cupped her still-moist
mound. "Is this a better placement for my hand?"

Her head jerked in response, and desire darkened her
eyes, answering his question. He rubbed the outer lips and
playfully tugged at the black, springy curls.

"What are you doing?" she gasped.

"It is time for your pleasure," he answered. His head
dipped and he lapped at one nipple. Her back arched and
she threaded her fingers through his hair.

"But we already made the baby," she said, each word
huskier than the last.

Axiom scooted down the bed, careful to keep his hand
on her sex, his fingers sliding up, down, and around the little pearl that peeked out from amidst the closely trimmed
triangle of hair.

"True," he said, "but I have not yet brought you to orgasm
this night." He had been unable to remove the vision of her
flushed face, twisted in rapture, from his mind. He had
given in to his body's need for release twice since the day
she had burst into his cabin demanding answers and pushing him to the brink of losing control of his ward. Selfpleasuring only left him hollow and still aching for her.

I will witness her pleasure again. Here. Now. Without the
yearning to fuel her desire. It will be only me who brings her to
her peak.

His face hovered over her pubis and he blew on the area,
teasing Laurell until she squirmed. Without the yearning to
fuel his actions, Axiom had wondered how he might fare
with mating. The intense energy of the yearning had erased
all thought and caused him to act on instinct.

This was different. He still desired Laurell-gods, did he
desire her!-but he wanted to please her, more than he
wished for his own sexual gratification. He recalled the
lovemaking rituals he had witnessed between mortals in
the past. He had rarely observed human coupling for long,
realizing that participants typically considered the act a
private one and probably did not appreciate prying eyes.