First, Lan was killed by a vamp and there wasn't a thing that he or Kay or Ram could do to stop it. Next Elora had literally materialized out of thin air as an unrecognizable pile of goo. When she'd recovered they learned she was an alien who had been forced into this dimension. He fell in love with her. She chose Ram and broke his heart. End of story. Boo hoo.
Did he want to be interested in a woman? No.
Was he interested in a woman? He wanted to say, "Not only no. But hell no." Problem was that might not be the truth. In his mind, he replayed the look on Litha's face when she was leaving the pub and it made him feel like he had to be the biggest bastard who ever lived. How f**ked up was that? Deep and wide.
Storm pulled on the light drawstring sweats he liked to sleep in, threw the covers back, turned off the lights, and lay down on top of the sheet. He thought about jacking off, but went to sleep before he could follow through.
In his dream he undid the drawstring on his sweats and pushed them down far enough to expose the erection that pulsed against his abdomen, begging for attention. When his hand traveled down and cupped his balls, he hissed in a breath while he tried to remember how long it had been since he'd needed release so badly. He slid his hand up to the thick width of his c**k and wished it was her hand encircling him, applying just the right pressure, in just the right way.
As his hand started to massage the pressure of aching arousal he saw the wall beyond the foot of the bed begin to shimmer. Litha stepped out of a diaphanous light and walked forward to stand at the foot of the bed. She was a vision, wearing an old-fashioned white cotton nightgown, sleeveless and loose, with a low cut neckline revealing the swell and the sway of her unbound br**sts. Even in the darkened room he could see how red her mouth was and he knew even without touching that her hair would feel like silk when he fisted it in his hands.
This dream was sexy. Sexy and romantic and there was something about having her stand there watching him caress himself that aroused him even more. On some level he knew that he moaned out loud in his sleep.
"Here," she said softly, "let me do that."
She raised the skirt of her nightgown above her knees so that it wouldn't catch and, never taking her eyes off him, started to climb onto the bed.
"I'm not interested in a relationship." His protest seemed somewhat compromised by the fact that he held an engorged penis in his hand. If he'd been awake, he would have been painfully self-conscious about that, but his dream self was not the least inhibited.
Kneeling on the bed next to him, she cocked her head to one side. "This isn't a relationship. It's a dream."
"It feels real."
"But it's not." Her gaze skimmed over Storm's exposed body appreciatively. When her eyes came back to his, she smiled. "You can be yourself. You can do what you truly want."
Without asking for permission she straddled him and then released the nightgown so that it drifted down and settled feather light on his legs. When she leaned toward him, he stared at the pendant that fell between her br**sts and caught her rainstorm scent.
"Is this a dream spell? Are you using magicks on me, witch?"
She looked surprised and cocked her head to the side, studying him. "This is your magick, Storm. You called me from my sleep."
He considered that, assessing the odds and, oddly, coming to the conclusion that she could be telling the truth. "And you had to come?"
"No, of course not. It's my choice to be here." She looked down his body. "Were you thinking about me?" Gently, but insistently she moved his hand, replacing it with her own, wrapping around him. "Is this what you were thinking? Did you imagine my hand here instead of yours?"
His gaze darkened and his breath started to come faster. Seeing that he liked what she was doing, Litha leaned over him so that the loose neckline of her bodice drooped exposing her br**sts to his view. His eyes locked on them like heat-seeking missiles.
She leaned even closer so that she could speak close to his ear, increasing the intimacy, and she felt his erection swell even bigger in her hand. "Beautiful knight. I love that you compelled me. You could have summoned anyone, but it was I you called to in your sleep. Would you rather I watched you?"
Storm was so switched on he thought he might come out of his own skin. He'd never been so hot. When the pad of her thumb skimmed up his engorged staff and began to massage vee just under the base of the head, he grabbed fistfuls of bedding with both hands, and gave a tight shake of his head in answer to her question. She smiled. Eyes never leaving his, she leaned down and lazily drew her tongue across the drops of pr**um that glistened in the darkness. His organ jerked in her hand and he let out a sound that was something between a moan and a shout.
He was too excited to continue to lie there passive. He had to touch her, had to feel in charge. He let go of the bedding, grabbed her face with both hands and pulled her red mouth into a possessive kiss, a kiss of claiming, one that said: "Mountains may crumble. Seas may go dry, but I will never let you go'."
His tongue invaded her mouth and then she was the one who was moaning. She let go of his c**k so that she could lower herself and press her body where her hand had been. Her moans implied that her arousal was keeping pace with his own. Feeling the soft swells of her br**sts and the vibration of her murmurs against his chest ratcheted his passion even higher. He was thinking he hadn't known that it was possible to want something so badly and, now that he did, he would never be the same.
When Litha pulled back from the kiss she was breathing hard. "Take what you want."
Suddenly he knew exactly what that was. He flipped her over so that she was under him, pulling her nightgown up as she curled her pretty legs around his waist. "Take what you want." Every repetition of that was said more urgently until his tachometer was on overload.
He sat up long enough to take the pretty white nightgown in both hands and jerk it open unceremoniously so that little pearl buttons went flying. For a split second he stared at the miracle of the woman who was laid before him, then he remembered it was just a dream. Just a dream.
He lowered his body to hers and felt the dizzying rapture of skin on skin for the first time. Perfect. He wanted to slow things down, to savor touching her, feeling her. He wanted to learn her body slowly with hands and then slowly with his mouth, but his need was too far gone for that. The smoldering desire burst into hot flames and he was suddenly pushed to a frenzy by the demanding way the witch pressed her naked entrance against him.
When he pulled his hips back and drove into her she cried out in triumph and surprise. In response, he made a sound that was more animalistic than human. He didn't care. The only thing in the universe worth thinking about was the luscious witch who was writhing under him, chanting his Anglicized name in fevered whispers.
"Angel. Angel. Angel."
As their bodies moved together, she made him feel like his thrusts were heroic. She made him feel like he was the only man ever born who could make her ripple like a river. He wanted her to know that she was the only woman who could bring him out of a half-life haze and make him crazy for her.