"I have every right," he murmured, breath warm across her lips. "And every intention."
His kiss was a honeyed affirmation of his words. A gentle possession she could not escape. Didn't really want to escape. The moon was high, and given this afternoon's and last night's frustrations, she so very desperately needed his touch. Needed him. Though she would never have admitted as much.
His mouth moved on, trailing fiery kisses down her neck to her br**sts. She still wore her sweater, but he didn't seem to care. His teeth encased one aching nipple, biting lightly. She squirmed, trying to deny pleasure as he sucked and nipped one aching nub, then the other. As the gentle assault continued, she gave in to the urge to touch him, and she ran her hands down the muscled plain of his stomach to stroke the still hard length of him. He shuddered, thrusting into her touch. An oddly primitive sense of power ran through her. Whatever else he might think or feel about her, he couldn't deny his need for her right now.
A small comfort that was better than nothing, she supposed.
She continued to explore as he explored — by taste, by touch. Heat rose, shimmering between them, warming the night. Warming them.
His touch pushed her into a place where only sensation existed. The air was hot and thick and almost impossible to breathe. Every inch of her quivered under the relentless assault of his fingers and tongue. Then the convulsions began, the power of them curling through her body like a tidal wave.
It was a wave that became even more glorious as he thrust inside her again. She groaned and wrapped her legs around him, forcing him deeper still, until it felt as if the rigid heat of him was claiming every inch of her.
Her cl**ax hit, stealing her breath, stealing her sanity, sweeping her into a world that was sheer, unadulterated bliss. A heartbeat later he went rigid against her, the power of his release tearing a groan from his throat. He held her for one last thrust, then his lips sought hers, his kiss a lingering taste of passion.
In that one moment, all the fears that had plagued her the first time they'd made love returned in a rush. Because this time he hadn't only let her glimpse the stars, he'd well and truly taken her past them.
Worse still, there was something in the way he touched her that she'd never felt before, and it scared her. Because no matter how powerful the dance, it would never mean anything to a man like Duncan Sinclair. He was a lone wolf, a man who lived for momentary pleasure, who searched for nothing beyond it. He'd certainly proven time and again over the last twenty-four hours that he cared nothing for her.
And the mere fact that she was even thinking something like that, after the abominable way he'd treated her, showed just how dangerous the next four days were going to be.
He rolled off her onto his back, one arm flung across his forehead as he stared up at the ceiling. He might have been alone for all the notice he seemed to take of her. The night air caressed her rapidly cooling skin, but it had little to do with the shiver that ran down her spine.
"You'd better be getting dressed," he said. "We have to be back to the mansion by twelve."
His voice was flat, unemotional. She certainly wouldn't have thought they'd shared a mind-blowing dance only moments before.
"Right," she said, keeping her voice as flat as his. "I'll just go take a shower."
"Don't."
She stared at him. He didn't look at her, didn't acknowledge her, just continued to gaze at the ceiling. And it was beginning to grate. "Why not?"
"Because I want everyone to smell my scent on you. I want them to know you're mine, and mine alone."
Relief slithered through her. At least he was keeping one promise. "I can't see how having a shower will affect that."
"It's the dance and the moon rides high. They must know I have claimed you tonight, or there will be challenges."
Her stomach began to churn. What in the hell type of dance was he taking her to? "What do you mean?"
He shrugged. "What I said. Tonight is my pack's get-together. Some bring mates. Others bring dancers to be shared. If you don't have my scent on you, you'll be considered the latter rather than the former."
The implications of that swirled through her and settled like a weight in her stomach. "So it's an orgy?"
He finally glanced at her. Amusement sparked briefly in his eyes before it was lost to the shutters. "The whole moon dance is an orgy."
She supposed it was — at least where the Sinclairs were concerned. "Can I at least clean up a little?"
"If you hurry." He hesitated, and a mirthless smile touched his full lips. "Wouldn't want to miss any of the fun, now, would we?"
Her stomach began to churn, and she wondered yet again just what she'd gotten herself into.
Wondered how in hell she was going to get through the rest of this night, let alone the next four.
Five
Duncan stopped at the top of the stairs and let his gaze roam across the lust-filled darkness. This ballroom was far smaller than the main one, but no one here really cared. Tonight was a night for the main pack to come together and rejoice in the freedom of the moon. And if ever there was a time to discover discontent, it was tonight, when the heat of the moon and the whispering magic entwined through the music to make blood boil and tongues loosen.