The Last Warrior (Shifters Unbound #13) - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,81
bestowed on him.
Rhianne had said the full thing, Gilbenarteoighiamh, never stumbling, the entire name flowing out sweetly.
The sound fanned his desire into high flame. He managed to roll her under him, coming up on his fists to drive hard into her. Rhianne’s face softened as she arched to him, her eyes starry.
No passive lover, Rhianne clung to him and met his thrusts, her hair, loosened from its braid, wrapping around Ben as it had in his fantasies. The silken touch of it warm on his skin sent him into spirals of madness.
He pumped faster, she crying out as she welcomed him inside her. Ben pounded one fist on the sofa, his hand sinking into the cushion.
This coming was intense, Ben closing his eyes and drowning in her. Rhianne’s shouts met his, her silvery voice mingling with his grating one, fusing into a soothing harmony.
Ben and Rhianne continued to move together, the couch cradling them. Ben vaguely wondered if the noise they were making disturbed anyone inside the house then immediately ceased to care. They must be used to it. Shifters lived to mate.
After a long time, their rhythm slowed into something calm, a languid back and forth as Ben and Rhianne basked in each other. Eventually, they stilled, Ben kissing Rhianne in relaxed afterglow.
She traced his lip with a gentle finger. “Need you too, Ben.”
Ben thought of the L- word that had nearly slipped out. He’d swallowed it in a blaze of passion and also to keep from confusing her.
But she knew. Rhianne gazed up at him in serenity, understanding.
Ben licked her finger, then bowed his head into her shoulder, wondering what would become of him.
Rhianne watched Ben as they slid on their clothes a while later. His T-shirt was torn, and Rhianne flushed as she remembered how fervently she’d wanted it off him.
To cover her embarrassment, she focused on settling her own clothes. “Tiger’s cub, the young woman. What is her name?”
Ben shrugged. “No one knows. Not even her.” He smoothed the T-shirt, spreading the torn part and then dropping it in resignation. “They’re calling her Tiger-girl for now. She’ll choose her own name, so says Connor.”
“Is sparring really what those two are doing in here?” Rhianne asked in amusement. “The couches are quite convenient.”
Ben nodded, serious. “They are. Tiger-girl is going through her Transition, which is the Shifter coming of age. Shifters remain cubs a long time, until the late twenties as humans calculate years. Before the Transition, sex is the noisy and annoying activity adults are too fond of. During and right after the Transition, however, it’s nothing but crazed mating frenzy.”
“Then Tiger-girl is going through that?”
“She is, but Connor isn’t. Yet. He’s still technically a cub. During the Transition fighting—anything, anyone, anytime—helps a Shifter deal with the raging hormones. Thus, sparring. Tiger-girl will be horny as hell soon though, if she isn’t already. She’ll have to look to another Shifter then, as Connor’s not ready.”
“I don’t know.” Rhianne gathered her hair in an awkward attempt to braid it. “She seems quite taken with Connor. Not letting him far out of her sight. She certainly warned off that other Shifter girl.”
“Connor was there when Tiger and Carly found her locked in an underground compound out in Arizona. Shifter Bureau had her and didn’t know what to do with her. Poor kid. Carly says she didn’t calm down until Connor talked to her.”
“Uh huh.” Rhianne fumbled with the braid. “Being rescued from a cell is a pretty powerful stimulus. A girl doesn’t forget that.”
“Is that so?” Ben came to her and turned her around, taking her hair in competent hands. “If you’re Shifter, you must have gone through a Transition. Even half Shifters do.”
Rhianne thought back through her life, dredging up memories from the dust of her past.
“There was a time,” she said slowly. “I suddenly couldn’t stand being in my mother’s house, puttering in the garden, waiting for the cook to make his next fantastic meal. I wanted to be out, roaming the mountains and the ocean’s shores. Being home drove me crazy. I didn’t know why, because I’d always loved puttering in the garden and pestering the cook.”
She remembered how her skin had burned, how she’d been peevish and snarling with everyone.
“My mother and I had been so fond of each other,” Rhianne went on. “We took care of each other once she threw my father out. But I suddenly couldn’t stand the sight of her.