Moon Burning - By Lucy Monroe Page 0,25
his Chrechte markings on his bicep and back, he had several small scars obviously obtained in battle. Each one made him that much more alluring to her. A man who fought and received wounds in the effort to protect those he called clan was a man she could admire on every level.
Even if he was a wolf.
Regardless of the sexual need coming off him, he took the time to put his daggers where they could easily be reached if he had a need.
Her own trained warrior instincts could not help noting what it would require for her to reach them, too.
He laughed as he put one knee on the bed, the sound low and seductive, sending quakes of longing through her.
“What amuses you?” She’d never been further from joviality.
“You calculated the distance to my daggers as I put them away.” The knowing smile on his face was reflected in his voice.
“And you find that worthy of laughter?”
“I find your attempt to play the maiden in distress more than worthy.”
His assurance of her deception did not seem to have made him angry.
“I am what I am.” He could take that how he liked. She was beyond dissembling.
“And I am eager to discover exactly what that means.”
It wouldn’t happen, but telling him so would probably make the daft laird laugh again. “I do not want to desire you.” That was one piece of honesty she could share.
“Why?”
“You are a dangerous man for me to mate.”
“So you feel it, too?”
“I thought it was obvious.”
“I wonder what your voice will sound like in my mind,” he said as he lowered his head to capture her lips for her first kiss.
And it was only as the words repeated in her conscious mind that she realized they’d been talking about two very different aspects of mating. She’d meant sexual intimacy.
He thought they were true mates.
God would not be so cruel.
No matter how appealing his person, or how intriguing his character, she could not be true mates with a wolf. Heaven would not play such a vicious trick on her.
Her disturbed thoughts splintered as his lips moved with possessiveness against hers. The taste was incredible, like spices and fresh water from the spring. Intoxicated by his nearness, she was glad to be lying down. Were she standing, she did not think she would remain upright.
She’d never known such sensations.
In her whole life, she had never considered her mouth such a bastion of sexual temptation, but the feel of his lips against hers went clear to the depths of her soul and back again.
His tongue flicked along the seam of her lips in a silent demand her body instinctively knew how to respond to. She let her lips part, giving him access to the inner recess beyond. His tongue took instant advantage, intensifying the amazing flavor scoring her senses.
He ravaged her with a warrior’s power and she returned the kiss with her own feminine need to meet him strength to strength, desire to desire, softness to hardness. Neither superior to the other, and yet no question that his body was bigger, his muscles more powerful. He should frighten her, but he did not. She found his size and strength unbearably exciting, especially so close to her unencumbered nudity.
He was all she could have ever wanted in a mate and yet was the one man she could not invite into her true life. Nevertheless, she would enjoy this moment of pleasure while she had it. She had known little enough joy in her life; she would not reject this moment her raven insisted was hers. She would never know such pleasure again, of that she was irrevocably convinced—she hadn’t thought to know it now. But while she dwelt among his people she would indulge in the carnally feminine side of her raven and human natures both.
He reared back, his huge body shimmering in the torchlight. “You taste like the food of the gods.”
She smiled at his exaggeration. “I taste like a woman.”
“My woman.”
“For tonight.”
“Forever.”
She could not make her mouth utter a denial, but nor would she allow it to speak agreement.
He flexed his big muscles, making them bulge in ways that had her raven trilling with desire. He was not Éan, but he understood the need to display his strength and prowess for her, to draw her raven closer to the surface than Sabrine had allowed it since making the change in the air as she fell to the earth. She reached up and nuzzled into his neck with