Windburn (Nightwing# 2) (14 page)

When I thought the burning had cooled, an electric snap stung me deep, searing through muscle and bone. Lorian swallowed my cry, an arm sliding around my waist and holding me tight, firming against my pliant body. An inferno scorched me clean, my defiant will evaporating like smoke, as not only our bodies became one, but our souls as well. Emotion swelled and poured out through tears down my cheeks. For in that moment, I knew, I
knew
he would be mine till my dying day, till my last breath. Till the last beat of my heart.

He pulled gently away, keeping our faces close, our breathing quick and ragged.

“Are you okay? Did he…did he hurt you?” Such pain in his voice.

“No. I’m okay.” I wouldn’t burden him with my fear that he wouldn’t come in time. Because he did, and all would be well now. “Except he did cut me with that damn knife.”

I peered down at the place where Fallon had nicked me over my breast, but there was no wound.“What the—?” I jerked my arm out of the water with a splash. No scratch. Nothing at all.

“Lorian, how am I healed?”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to my cheek, another near my ear. “We’re in Singing Wind Wood.”

“What? You mean this is a magical healing pool or something?”

“No, I doubt that. I’ve never heard of a magical healing pool.”

“What are you saying?”

“I know these woods grant favor to ones they deem deserving. Magical favors.”

My eyes searched the line of trees. A gentle whistle rustled on a passing wind. The leaves whispered. The gibbous moon, high above us, shimmered on the surface of the water where steamy mist hovered and floated like dragon’s breath. We were not wholly alone, but protected here, guarded under these sacred trees.

“So Singing Wind Wood likes me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” He kissed me on the temple, his voice grave. “I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”

My stomach lurched. He’d never said such words to me. But there was no refuting how deep our emotions went after soulfire.

I smiled. “You’re in love with me?”

He arched one dark brow. “You know I am.” Strong hands held me tighter.

“Show me.”

His brow creased into a frown. “Sorcha, after what you’ve been through, I don’t think so.”

I cupped his face in my hands. “Lorian, after what I’ve been through, I need you to love me.” I placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Now.” Another one. “Here.” I traced my tongue along his bottom lip. “In this magical place.” I opened my mouth on his, whispering against his lips. “Love me, Lorian.”

No further persuasion was needed. We laughed, trying to remove his wet clothes, clasped in each other’s arms, unwilling to let each other go. When we were finally skin on skin, Lorian lifted me in the water and eased inside my body, filling me deep, holding me close. We both sighed with profound pleasure.

Joined in every possible way, my legs wrapping his waist, his arms banded me so tight not a sliver of space separated us. He rocked slowly inside me, water lapping in slow ripples around us. His mouth on my neck, caressing me in gentle sweeps, his tender loving awoke a well of emotion. Another stream of tears spilled down my cheeks.

He stopped and held me, buried deep. “What is it, baby?” he asked, his usual cool mask broken with worry. For me.

I shook my head, blinking away the tears, born not of fear and anger but of a myriad of emotions I thought to never experience with a man—safety, belonging, deep abiding love.

“I never”—voice breaking, I cleared my throat—“I never thought to trust a man again.” He waited as I regained composure and continued. “My father abandoned me and my mom. Left us and never came back. Never called. Cut us off like we were nothing.” I sucked in a shaky breath, having locked away my bitterness toward my father long ago. I’d dismissed him, as he’d dismissed me. I’d pretended his breaking of my heart as a girl meant nothing to the woman I’d become.

Lorian lifted one hand out of the pool, dripping warm droplets on my shoulder as he combed his fingers around my nape in a gentle but firm grip. “You are everything. I’ll never leave you,” he said, voice gravelly with his dragon’s possessiveness. “I’ll never let you go.”

I smiled, my heart hearing the truth along our newly-made bond. “I know.”

Our gazes lingered on each other, as if permanently pressing this image, this moment in our minds forever. Then he slanted his mouth over mine and burned his promise into my body, my blood rushing in a mad torrent at his bidding. He began to move again, pulling out slowly and thrusting deep, showing me with his hands, his body, his mouth that I was the center of his world, his most precious treasure to be coveted from now till death do us part. Soulfire lit aflame again, bringing us to ecstasy multiple times. In the shelter of the woods, we made love again and again, while the wind sung through the trees, whispering words I couldn’t understand, but resonated in my bones—warmth, home…love. A soft, beautiful melody I would never forget.

“You did an outstanding job. Outstanding!” Adicus Nightwing clapped Lorian on the shoulder. We looked out over one of the fourth floor balconies at the milling crowd of humans and Morgons.

Spire Maiden had been put on hold for weeks because I hadn’t been in any state to focus on finishing the final touches and marketing for the grand opening. After the nightmare with the Larkosians, I wasn’t in a frame of mind to do much of anything at all, except seclude myself from the world and meet with a psychiatrist several days a week. When I finally had felt ready to go back to work and finish the job we’d started, Lorian refused to let me. “You’re not well yet.” I had told him to go to hell, but he’d been adamant, insisting my mental health was more important than a fucking job. He was right, of course. So Willow had carried on in my stead for another month until I was finally able to venture out into public without breaking into a sweat and watching over my shoulder for an unseen enemy.

“Thank you, Father.” Lorian tipped his glass to me at his side, a protective hand heavy on my waist. “It would be nothing without Sorcha.” He dipped his head closer to my ear. “I’d be nothing without Sorcha.”

I elbowed him as my mother approached from the elevator area. “Mr. Nightwing, I’d like you to meet my mother, Miriam Linden.”

She pecked me on the cheek with a smile and held out her slender hand to Adicus. It didn’t escape my attention his eyes widened at the sight of her. Though in her late forties, my mom was a knockout. With flaming hair and creamy skin like mine, her gentle, brown eyes softened her face. Mom said mine always “shone with mischief.” Not hers. She looked like a fiery angel. I had always thought it was a waste of a good woman to spend all her time slaving at the office.

Adicus engulfed her hand in both of his. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Ms. Linden. We’ve spoken so often and never actually met.”

“Call me Miriam, please. And yes, it’s wonderful to put a face to the voice. I must say you match your voice.”

“Oh?” The Morgon man hadn’t let go of her hand.

“Yes.” She smiled and tilted her head. “Strong and husky.”

Good God, my mother was flirting with Lorian’s dad. And he was entirely too receptive.

“Would you like to get a drink, Miriam?”

“I’d love to.”

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her away.

Lorian bit back a laugh, watching them go.

“Stop it. What if they hit it off and date or something?”

“What if they do? Nightwings and Lindens fit each other well.”

“You’re talking about our parents.”

“No. I’m talking about us.” He nuzzled into my neck, planting a kiss at the curve between my neck and jaw.

I sighed. “I can’t think when you do that, Lorian.”

“I know.” He did it again.

“Stop it.”

“There you are!” Jessen hauled me into a hug before I could even register it was her. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. This place is freaking
amazing
!”

Lucius shook his brother’s hand. They conversed in low tones. As soon as they’d moved off, Jessen bounced giddily. “So we’re really like sisters now!”

I laughed. “We always were.”

“True.” She grinned. “Oh, wow. Who’s that guy?”

Kol had joined the Nightwing brothers, their voices low, their faces grave.

“That’s Lorian’s best friend, Kol Moonring.”

“He’s, um, well, intense.”

“You have no idea.”

Lucius and Lorian’s cousin, Paxon Nightwing, joined the huddle of Morgon men, his voice dipping low so only they could hear. The Nightwings held a monopoly of nighclubs, retail stores, and even owned a percentage of the Vaengar Stadium where a Morgon sport was played and celebrated. I’d overheard Lorian speaking to Paxon on a couple of occasions about his management of the stadium.

Jessen frowned. “What’s going on? Is this about you?”

By the bent of their heads and their aggressive expressions, bordering on anger, I knew they weren’t talking business. “I think it’s about the Larkosians.” I’d already spent an entire day telling Jessen the whole story, omitting some of the uglier details. “Fallon’s threat is hanging heavy with all of them.”

“Yeah. Lucius has been worried there are more out there.” Her eyes softened. “I’ve been worried. About you. How are you doing?”

“Me? I’m fine. Have you seen the hunk of man over there who’s all mine now?”

We laughed as Ella walked up with a guy, a human guy, I’d never met before.

“Hi, girls.”

“Hey, Ella. Your mom let you out of the house?”

She smirked at me and gestured toward the guy whose arm draped around her shoulder. “My parents like Clayton. Jessen and Sorcha, this is Clayton Kerrington.”

That was a mouthful. The dude had sandy-blond hair and perfect teeth. Even deep dimples when he showed off his pearly whites. “Hello, ladies. I’ve heard so much about you.”

I eyed him skeptically. “So, you’re in favor with the Barrows, Ella’s parents?”

“They seem to like me.” An arrogant arch of the brow.

“And how do you feel about Morgons?”

“I’ve got no problem with them or anyone else. Hell, I love the Vaengar games. One of my favorite sports.”

The three Nightwing men joined our little party. Kol had disappeared. Not surprising.

“I think I’ve seen you before in the Box.” Paxon stood between myself and Ella.

“Yeah, yeah. I remember. You were with the Rowanflame brothers. I’m Clayton Kerrington.”

Still a mouthful.

“Paxon Nightwing.” Paxon shook his hand, but his eyes were elsewhere. I followed his gaze to…Ella.

Hmm. Interesting.

Paxon dragged his attention away from my oblivious, blond friend back to Clayton. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon. Of course, if we had a better stadium”—he turned to Lucius—“we’d have more room in the Box.”

The Box section was delegated for the more affluent Morgons, but sometimes humans squeezed their way in.

“Pax, it’s on the agenda,” muttered Lucius. “A project of this magnitude takes time.”

“Yes, well, I could lure more elite teams to play here if we had a proper stadium. We can’t handle the crowds like Drakos and other Morgon provinces.”

Lucius wandered off again with Paxon, muttering about funding and political support.

“Holy crap! Look at Jed’s new band,” said Jessen.

The grind of a guitar warming up and the beat of drums drew the crowd’s attention to the stage.

“Wow.” Ella stepped up to the balcony.

Four blond rock-gods, three Morgons and one human, warmed up for their debut performance. Jed stepped up to the mic. “Welcome, everyone, to the grand opening of Spire Maiden. Everyone having a good time?” A whoop and a few whistles lit up from the audience. “Well, grab someone and hold on tight. We’re
Elysium
and we’re gonna make you party tonight.”

Jessen tossed her head back and laughed. “Jed and his cheesy opening lines.”

Ella giggled. “Yeah, but it works.”

The band slammed into their first tune to the sound of screaming fans. Jessen joined Ella and Clayton at the balcony.

Strong hands wrapped my waist, pulling me against a familiar, hard body. I draped my arms over his. Lorian swept my hair over one shoulder, his mouth pressing an intimate kiss to my neck.

“Lorian. Have you noticed we’re in a crowd full of people?”

“I don’t care. Let ’em watch. They might learn something.” He nipped the shell of my ear.

“Lorian.”

“Did I tell you I had special furniture delivered for the office?”

I crooked my neck to the side so he could have better access. He took full advantage.

“No.”

“I’d like to show you.”

“You’d like to show me the office furniture?”

“I had a custom-made, black, marble-top desk delivered yesterday.”

Heat sizzled where his mouth trailed down my neck and coiled my body tight.

One of his hands slipped over my hip and back between our bodies, sliding down and cupping my bottom. “Would you like to see the desk?”

“If memory serves me correctly, my last experience with a slab of black marble didn’t turn out so well.”

“I’d like to make that up to you.”

“Show me.”

He threaded his fingers through mine and led me to a private place where we’d both give and take pleasure. An act I had once thought would only ever satisfy my body, had finally come to satisfy my soul.

And my heart.

Juliette Cross
calls lush, moss-laden Louisiana home, where the landscape curls into her imagination, creating mystical settings for her stories. She has a B.A. in creative writing from Louisiana State University, a M.Ed. in gifted education, and was privileged to study under the award-winning author Ernest J. Gaines in grad school. Her love of mythology, legends, and art serve as constant inspiration for her works. From the moment she read
Jane Eyre
as a teenager, she fell in love with Gothic romance—brooding characters, mysterious settings, persevering heroines, and dark, sexy heroes. Even then, she not only longed to read more novels set in Gothic worlds, she wanted to create her own. Visit her website at www.juliettecross.com