A melding of
essence and sexuality--the basis of creation--the powerful healing could only
be used between normals and beasts for reasons unknown. And humans never mixed
with their kind unless to kill them. Certainly never sexually.
Still, it was the
one chance the woman, Swan, had. If it worked, she would likely kill him when
she recovered, but he thought it a small price to pay for life.
Bending, he
gathered her effortlessly into his arms. She trembled but remained
unconscious. He nodded at Arion as he stood. “Let us make haste. We must
reach Barakus before the silver moon sets.”
CHAPTER TWO
Touching an
unconscious woman held no appeal for Raphael. But the actions of a few rogue
hunters forced him to make amends.
The woman had
been bathed, and her wounds cleansed and tended to the best of their ability.
It had done little to ease the fever racking her body. Doubtless her flight
through the woods had only worsened her injury.
She’d been placed
on his bed, soft furs draped around her body. In the room, lit dimly by basins
of flame and the watery light of the red moon, she appeared unnaturally bleached
and sickly. Her dark skin was dry when it should not have been--should have been
soaked through with perspiration at her heat. He wondered that the wound
affected her so harshly, but suspected dark magic had more to do with her
illness than any natural cause.
Raphael climbed
into the bed and knelt beside her. He smoothed a gold strung lock of
brown/black hair from her face. He’d never seen the like of it before and the
highlights threading through her coarse dark hair fascinated him.
Her eyes moved
rapidly beneath her heavily lashed lids, her body twitching slightly, her mouth
parted on a sigh. She was dreaming, likely of the chase or some other horror
he could only imagine.
Anger seeped into
him. He clenched his hands into fists, then realized what he was doing.
Deliberately, he drew and released a slow breath, forcing himself to remain
calm. Reckless anger would do neither of them good.
From Blasien, he
knew the
kharez
was inherently sexual. Blasien’s woman had healed him
with her body and unintentionally formed a connection between them. Sensual
touch sparked the reaction. And it was time to begin, before she worsened ...
or roused enough to refuse him.
Raphael traced a
finger lightly over her lush parted lips and down her right arm. Her skin was
soft as down, smooth and perfect. Taking her hand in a gentle grip, he lifted
it to his face and pressed his lips to her fingertips, feeling the rapid pulse beat
of her heart. He moved over each slowly, lingering, sucking each small pad
into his mouth to rake lightly with his teeth and soothe with his tongue.
She moaned softly
and shifted, drawing closer. The furs slipped down at her movement, revealing
the soft, generous globes of her breasts, tipped with delightfully dark nipples
in the light.
His hands itched
to curve around them, test their weighted softness in his palms. Heated blood
rushed to his groin, his length swelling, hardening beneath his short kurt.
Long had he been without a woman to touch ... to taste ... to bury his hard
shaft deep inside. This woman--the human--tempted him.
Smoothing his
palms over her alluringly defined collarbone, he moved lower, watching her face
for reaction as he skimmed her breasts with the softest touch. Her lips parted
on a breathy sigh as her nipples pebbled, begging, needing more.
He swallowed
hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He pinched the tight buds, rolling each between
his thumb and forefinger until she moaned and arched her back, thrusting her
breasts closer to him.
Unable to hold
his baser side back, Raphael growled low in his throat and descended, brushing
his lips down the column of her neck. He suckled her flesh, dipped his tongue
into the hollow of her throat, felt the fragility of her life beating against
his tongue.
His teeth
elongated with the bloodlust surging through him, the pulse beating at the base
of her throat tempting him to taste her life’s essence. He’d not felt such
longing in many years--had banished that side of himself that ached for the
taste of innocent blood.
He wrenched away
from that temptation, breathing ragged and harsh, but she caught him, held his
arms tight. Looking at her dark face, he saw that she watched him. Her eyes
were slumberous, dark and glazed with lust and fever. She licked her lower
lip, drawing his gaze, maddening him beyond reason.
Descending on her
with a ferocity borne of long denial, he crushed his mouth to hers. Sucking
her lips, he nicked her with his sharp teeth. Traces of blood mingled with the
sweetness of her mouth, fueling the lust consuming his senses, threatening to
push him over the edge of control.
Swan made small,
whimpering throat noises, moans of pleasure as he thrust the furs aside and
settled his body against her naked flesh. He groaned into her mouth as she
rubbed her tight, lithe body against him. She closed her arms around him,
digging her nails into his back, clutching tight as he ravished her mouth.
Sliding his tongue inside, he probed her dark crevices, curling his tongue
around hers as she sucked him deeper.
Her heat
enveloped him, searing sanity, banishing reason. His hands moved with a mind
of their own, down her taut stomach, past the thatch of coarse dark hair hiding
her sex. His fingers teased her slit, moist with her desire. The evidence of
her arousal was nearly his undoing. Raphael dragged his mouth away, along her
jaw to her ear. Tracing the shell with liquid heat, he plunged his tongue
inside as his fingers sought and found her clit.
She moaned
loudly, gasping as though she could not get enough breath. She spread her legs
wide, tilting her hips to him. Fingers rapid, he worked the nub in tight
circles until she lay panting beneath him. He broke his hand away from her
lushness to rip his kurt away, until nothing barred him from taking her.
His cockhead
nudged her opening, wet with her juices. She was smaller than he’d reckoned,
tighter. Bliss beckoned his possession.
“Yes. Please,”
she begged, her voice husky as she wrapped her legs around him.
Beneath him, he
could feel her body wracked by an unnatural heat, a fever that overtook her,
leaving her senseless to his possession.
He stilled,
poised above her, tense. He’d lost his damned mind. Strained, his arms shook
with the effort to control himself. A cold sweat broke out on his body. It
would take little movement to sink into her depths. She was slick and needy
for him.
Swan arched
beneath him, and his cockhead teased her entrance, jerking with need. He
groaned, slipped infinitely inside. His arms shook more violently as restraint
slowly crumbled. Her wet heat enticed, threatening to snap the remainder of
his control.
“Don’t stop. I
beg you,” she cried, tossing her head back and forth on the silken furs, her
eyes squeezed shut.
“You know not
what you ask,” he said through gritted teeth, pained with resistance.
“I do,” she
whispered and went still of a sudden, collapsing back.
Raphael drew up
as though the tension between them had shattered, surprised as her arms and
legs fell away. Moisture beaded on her body, sliding down her curves. Her
skin brightened to a warm sun-infused brown, suffused with life, healthy and
perfect. The fever had broken.
He moved from
between her legs, beside her prone body. Tension shook him to the core, for he
still felt that desperate need to claim her body in every pore. How he’d
managed to not sink into her depths and ease his lustful needs, he did not
know.
Kneeling over
her, he touched her face. She slept. Her skin was cooling. No longer did the
scent of illness cling to her.
Had the
kharez
worked?
He could not
know, but it was likely so. And dawn was fast approaching. If his suspicions
were correct, she would be changing soon.
Raphael stood and
covered her once more. His body thrummed with need, insatiate. He touched his
still hard cock and groaned at the pleasurable pain. He promised himself that
he would have this human when next he saw her, until the unbidden lust she
aroused as woman and prey was cleansed from his body.
* * * *
An alien hardness
nudged the opening of her sex, probing, painful. She arched her back,
welcoming the intrusion with all her being....
Swan awoke with a
start, gasping with remembered sensation, a cold sweat broken across her brow.
Shivering, she wiped the moisture away, realized she was trapped in place. An
unfamiliar heat lay at her back, cradling her length. She shifted, but a heavy
weight held her in place, draped across her hip.
Looking around
from her vantage point, she saw she lay in a strange bed, covered with dark
furs. Beside the bed sat a squat table with the remnants of her robes. Bed
posts rose from the corners, carved in the likeness of rampant wolves. In
their teeth, dark gauze stretched between them--a net that could be dropped to
protect from annoying insects, she presumed. Large stone blocks made up the
walls of the room. An arched window was cut into the side wall she could see.
Further down she could see a basin of flame that gave off flickering light and
warmth.
Her attention
returned to the bed, the other occupant, and the hand draped possessively
around her. She had no memory of coming here. And she was as naked as the day
she was born. Swan wondered frantically if she’d been sodomized, but a mental
body check confirmed there was no tenderness, no aching, torn flesh. Her
sexual muscles were relaxed and whole as the rest of her body.
The weakness she’d
last recalled was gone, as was her nagging injury. Swan flexed her left hand
in wonder. The consistent pain had vanished though the shock of the missing
digit still greeted her. What magic did these beastmen possess?
From her
position, she looked out of the window that faced her, though she could see sky
and nothing else. Twilight reigned, that hazy darkness that warned of
approaching dawn ... or coming night. She could not remember changing, but
then, she usually did not, no more than the barest sense of it. Could an
entire day have passed without her knowledge?
And if she had
changed back and been healed, who then lay at her back? Logic dictated it
would be her captor, Raphael. He would naturally be the most powerful hunter
if he ruled them. Spoils always went to the victor. Seized by curiosity, Swan
turned into his embrace for a glimpse at the man who would call her prisoner.
His hand slid
down her hip at her movement, dangerously close to her femininity. She
stilled, held her breath as she awaited some sign he’d awakened. The deep
rhythm of his breathing greeted her. He’d not been disturbed.
Lying at an angle
now, all she could see from the corner of her eye was a shock of black hair.
Her hip began cramping from the twisted position. She couldn’t hold it for
long. She wondered just how deeply he slept. With the time, she must’ve
changed a short while ago, so he could not have slept near her long. Certainly
he’d not fallen into a deep sleep so quickly. The sky steadily darkened to
pitch as she waited. The moons slowly began their ascent.
As she lay
studying him, an outrageous plan began to take form in her mind. She dismissed
it at first, daunted by the enormity of it, unnerved that it had even occurred
to her, feeling her pulse quicken with an odd mixture of excitement and alarm.
Still, it nagged at her, refusing to be quelled until she examined the idea for
flaws.
There were, she
concluded, a wealth of them. On the other hand, she was in no position to
dismiss a plot she perceived as holding tremendous potential for gaining what
she needed. With an effort, she forced her doubts to the back of her mind,
forced herself to calm reflection. The plot would only work if he was sound
asleep as she suspected. It was wicked, not at all the thing for a lady to do,
but it was her one chance to convince the beastman she was serious. If he
wouldn’t willingly help her--she’d force his hand.
Swan listened
once more to confirm her safety. Satisfied, she began inching away from him.
Sweat dotted her skin as she concentrated on small movements, moving with
excruciating slowness. Finally, she managed to dangle one leg over the side of
the bed. She was near spread eagle from the position, and his hand slipped
steadily down, until it rested between her thighs. She gritted her teeth at
the contact, flushing. Her body felt like a flower thirsting for water,
thirsting for the heat and feel of him. Long had she been without a man’s
touch, not since she’d lost the seal of her body so many years ago in one
careless act of defiance. An inch more and he could delve into her womanhood--