Authors: Cindy Paterson
Balen was no
saint, and her rough assault made his insides roar. He grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her up so her legs wrapped around his waist. He heard her sharp intake of breath as he sank himself inside her, wetness clinging to every inch, warmth cascading.
“Oh
, God,” Balen groaned at the tightness that enclosed him. His control was faltering. He could feel it shifting, and the savage needs soaring. He took several deep breaths and calmed his mind by thinking of fresh fruit. He grinned at the memory and the easy nature came back over him.
Still inside her
, he walked across the room. He placed her backside on the dresser and withdrew from the sweet wetness. She wiggled her body, so she was on the edge and then hooked her arms around his neck.
“Better put that thing on real damn fast,” Danielle said.
When he looked into her eyes, his heart soared; she was smiling with a radiance that melted his insides. He was astounded, having expected fear maybe or hurt, but this . . . this was why he had come back and risked everything. To see this look in her eyes and feel it emanate through her body into his.
He cupped her chin and leaned forward
, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “Radiant. You are the most radiant woman I’ve ever known.”
She smiled. “Show me.”
Balen needed no further urging as he pushed himself inside her, instantly feeling the muscles clutch around him. His loins ached to be released. She kissed him, hands delving into his hair as the urgency built. He moved harder, faster, unable to be gentle any longer. Possession was taking control as his arms gripped her body to him, fingers bruising her hips as they dug into her flesh. He furiously locked her to him, pumping like a crazed animal until he shouted her name and his release tore through his body, creating blazing flames of spasms.
Sweat poured down his brow, clung to their naked skin
, and their scents meshed together. He remained frozen, unable to speak for several seconds, waiting for their heartbeats to settle and minds to calm.
He had
his arm clasped around her waist, her face snuggled into his shoulder. He was afraid to pull away and see her eyes. Terrified that he had been too rough and he’d see tears. If he did, he was walking away without another word. He’d collect his clothes and leave her to find another man, a good man, not one who’d betrayed his own sister and warriors.
“Holy crap,” Danielle said.
She pulled back and stared at him, her eyes wide with . . . happiness? Could it be? Had he pleased her, even after he had been rough? Please let him do one thing right in his lifetime.
“Are you okay?” Balen
asked, his voice hesitant.
“Am I okay? Of course. I’m shocked, that’s all. I understand what you were talking about when you said you lose control. That was losing control
, wasn’t it?”
“Partial,” he admitted. “But you weren’t frightened, I mean . . .”
She stopped him by placing her fingers over his mouth. “I was fine. I think because I felt like I could get away if need be. It’s the lying on my back and a man hovering over me that freaks me out.”
The relief that poured through him was
so overwhelming that he had to swallow a few times to ease the tension in his throat. She liked him. She was okay with him being the way he was as long as she wasn’t lying down. He could do that, they could do that.
He stiffened. What was he thinking? He was leaving, whether
exiled or Rest, the result was the same.
“What is it?” Danielle asked.
Balen slipped out of her and helped her off the dresser and then went to the washroom to get rid of the condom. He came out and gathered his clothes. Pain swelled in his heart like a rotten apple ready to turn to mush if he stayed any longer. He had thoughts of a future with this woman lying in his arms, laughing together, crying together, tasting, sharing every part of life that came barreling at them.
He closed his eyes.
“Don’t leave,” Danielle said, coming up behind him and taking the jeans from his hands. “Stay.”
“So I can torture myself further?” Balen said with a sneer. “Bloody hell, Danielle. This is it. I’m leaving and not coming back. I can’t protect you and I sure as hell can’t be with you like this ever again.”
He sighed and his voice lowered to barely a whisper. “I’ve never felt so bloody vulnerable to anyone in my life.”
Danielle trailed her hands down his chest. “We have one night for the rest of our lives. One night. Stay. I swear I won’t ask you about why you’re leaving or where or anything else like that. Can’t believe I just said that, but . . . crap
, Balen, there is this something between us that . . . well, I can’t explain it really . . . Seriously, can’t you just stay?”
He groaned
, knowing that he would say yes. How could he deny her anything? Her eyes looking into his like she cared for him with everything she had. Never had he had that. Never had he felt that and he wanted the feeling if only for one night.
He led her to the bed, threw back the covers and she crawled beneath them. He came beside her and she rested her head on his chest, her leg
on top of his thigh. He caressed her hair with soft, familiar strokes, memorizing every strand that clung to his fingers.
He sought her mind and knew she was dying to ask him millions of questions about himself. Questions he couldn’t answer without revealing the Senses to her. He ran his finger down her arm. “Your tattoo, what is it?” he asked.
Danielle smiled and tilted her head, so she could look at him. “You saw it? I didn’t think you had the chance.”
“I took every chance to look at your
backside. However, I only managed a glimpse,” Balen said with mischief.
“I was a bit of a rebel when I was growing up. My mother died when I was ten and my father looked past his daughter
’s radical ways. Crying for freedom of expression, I dragged Anstice with me on my eighteenth birthday and got a tattoo. Anstice copped out at the last second, but she held my hand while it was being scoured into my skin. It means nothing, really, just something I designed. I’m an artist, remember. My tattoo was my first real work of art. Can’t sell it though.” She snuck her hand underneath him and pinched his buttocks. “We can get dressed and go get a matching one put on you. A reminder of tonight.”
Balen groaned and then chuckled. Her finger slid over his tattoo around his
left biceps. An intricate design that incorporated the sun, moon and eyes, lines that weaved and blended, making nothing appear as it was. His tattoo on the back of his right shoulder was a scaled dragon breathing fire, but the body was transforming into a fish that was immersed in water. The one on his lower back he’d had all his life. It appeared simple, a tiger sitting on its haunches as if waiting for something. Well, the tiger would have to wait a mighty long time because Balen had no intentions to letting the Scar lose. His tiger was unmanageable, deadly and would destroy any its path. When he released the tiger, it devoured without consequence. Lucky for him, Talu—that was what he called the Scar—was content to remain concealed until he called upon him. Unlike Damien’s Scar, which sought to rise every time he flew into a rage.
“I like this one,” Danielle said as she lowered her head and kissed his bicep
s, then swept her tongue across the heated surface of his skin. “Do any of your tattoos mean anything?”
“No,” Balen quickly replied. “Get some sleep, Danielle.”
“Are you certain you don’t want to tell me where you so urgently have to go tomorrow? I can keep a secret, you know. Actually, Anstice and I have this thing—pinkie swears. We link baby fingers together and that means we will never tell a single soul.”
Balen tensed at the mention of his sister. Danielle had no idea who he was
—more important, what he was. Putting Anstice in the mix was a whole other can of worms. Open it up and Danielle was going to be feeling pretty damn pissed at all of them. Obviously, Anstice didn’t use the pinkie swear thing when it came to revealing the Senses to her best friend. If she had, Danielle would know exactly who he was, and Anstice would be in deep shit for breaking one of their draconian laws.
He took her hand that rested on his chest and inter
locked their fingers. “Even though this linking baby fingers sounds pretty damn erotic, it’s better you don’t know.”
“But
. . .”
Balen groaned.
“Okay, okay. I get it. But will you come back?”
He heard her say
for me,
but she didn’t say it out loud, her pride wouldn’t allow it. “No. I’m not coming back. Ever.”
She remained quiet for several minutes, their heartbeats matching in a slow
, easy rhythm. “Balen?” she asked in a soft whisper, just audible.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for this,” she said.
A tightness in his chest erupted at her words, stealing his breath. No one had ever told him
thank you
in his entire life. Not once. It was like music to his ears, especially from this woman, this remarkable woman who’d given everything of herself to him tonight. God, he didn’t deserve her even for one night. She needed a man who was faithful and kind, soft with a heart of gold. He was not that guy. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t even normal.
He felt her body relax and then she sighed as she drifted off to sleep.
He remained awake, wanting to remember every second he held her in his arms, cement the memory to his mind for all time. Near sunrise, he gave Danielle a kiss on her temple and slowly got out of bed. He put on his clothes and then pulled the covers up over Danielle’s sleeping form.
“Be well, little one.”
The time had come to end this.
Waleron wore a classic black wool overcoat that concealed
the array of weapons holstered to his waist and legs. His combat boots were soundless as he walked with long casual strides across the solid stone floor. The exquisite council room had no effect on him as he strode towards the oblong marble table. Pale blue candles shimmered from two oversized iron chandeliers that hovered over the council table. Columns of white silk curtains hung every five feet along the wall frescos. He didn’t bother removing his coat as feeling temperature in the realm was nonexistent. One was neither hot nor cold, something he valued about this place.
The four Elemental Wraiths remained in their realm of what he considered a fantasy land because what you saw was not always what it was. The Wraiths
were creative when it came to their home. When entering the realm it took time to adjust to the invariable blue haze that settled over your vision. Blue being a color of peace and calm, it was a favorite of the Wraiths, except perhaps of Edan, Wraith of Fire, who was said to have a territory in the realm of crimson.
Genevieve walked across the room in long
, graceful strides. She was the Elemental Wraith of Water, and a powerful Healer for those of her kind. However, she rarely used her gift, since the Wraiths were seldom harmed. She had a fascination with the emotion of love, although she’d never been known to be linked to any man, or woman. She was a bystander, allowing others to be spellbound by what he considered an illusion of love. Genevieve failed to see it that way, but he certainly did.
Her eyes alone could melt a man’s heart and bring him to his knees by her sophisticated beauty. Inquisitive and yet diffident, her eyes sparkled a cerulean blue when calm and changed to a deep golden when in turmoil. He sensed that beneath her apparent
quiet nature lay an impish woman. Despite knowing the Wraiths for three centuries, he didn’t live among them, and therefore he couldn’t be definite as to what Genevieve was really like.
Waleron
approached the table and made a subtle bow with his head and met the gaze of each council member. There were four Wraiths, a witch, and then himself and Zurina on behalf of the Senses. One remained absent from the council meeting, Enid, the Goddess who created them all. Attending a council meeting to discuss a Senses’ fate was too far beneath her to even consider making her presence known.
The Wraiths had abilities to control certain aspects of nature and were nonviolent. Their weakness was fighting against the evil that walked in the shadows of the human
world, which was where the Senses excelled. By combining their capabilities, they had been able to control the evil that continued to rise among them.
His eyes met Mariana, the representative of the
witches’ covens, who sat at the far right of the table beside Edan. She wore a white silk double-breasted coat that clung to every curve of her sensual body. Her long hair hung over her left shoulder in a swirl of pure ebony with three dreadlocks on the right side of her brow line. Skin alabaster, eyes dark walnut, lips narrow, which she loved to run her tongue across. She had an incredible ability to read thoughts, even his, which never sat well with him, considering he could block all others from entering his mind. In the hundreds of years he’d known her, she’d never once revealed any of his thoughts; for that the seductive witch had gained his respect. However, trusting any witch completely was just not a viable option for him.