Embrace the Wild (The Blood Rose Series Book 6) (7 page)

At the same time, he sent a vibration through his cock, one that had his balls seizing and her well pulling on him. She cried out and the vines began moving at the same time in quick small jerks so that he was shouting as well.

Lightning streaks of pleasure flowed through his cock as ecstasy arrived. Willow’s cries of release and pleasure added to the incredible mix of sensations that wouldn’t stop. The forest scent of her sex filled his nostrils, adding one more layer.

The orgasm kept coming as he filled her full of all that he was as a man.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as she continued to cry out.

When she finally eased down, he would have stopped, but his cock was still hard and he felt the impossible happen. “Willow? Can you come a second time?”

Her eyes opened wide. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. It must be your blood.”

“And yours, because I’m still feeling you and loving your cock. Malik.” Her eyes rolled and her body once more tensed. “I’m ready.”

He sped up again, moving fast like only a vampire could move.

This time Willow screamed and the vines vibrated against his skin, stroking him between his legs. When he came this time, he shouted repeatedly. He felt as one let loose like a great northern wind, his body releasing as it never had before.

When at last his shouts dimmed and Willow’s cries became soft moans, he felt the sweet tightness of her well with his last thrust. He stayed within as he relaxed against her, and the vines began to loosen their grip, receding slowly.

Even that sensation soothed him in a way he just didn’t understand. Some kind of miracle had come to him with Willow, though he couldn’t quite make sense of it. She was incredibly powerful and connected to these vines with a fae magic he’d never heard of before.

Yet the vines reflected the sweetness of her disposition. There was nothing of war in Willow, only of love, kindness and protection.

As he rested on her body, he savored the mounds of her breasts against his chest, the way she stroked the nape of his neck, and that she played with his long hair.

Her breathing evened out, and in time his did as well.

He was so replete; he could hardly move. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time, if ever, as though he’d come home after being away for centuries.

Was Willow
his home
?

Even if she was, other memories intruded of how her father had died and that Malik was responsible for his death, of his need to stay focused on his realm, and of his deep commitment to prevent The Society from hurting Ashleaf one more time.

Slowly, the feel-good of the moment faded and his responsibilities returned. He should call Evan and see how things were going. “I have to get back to my men.”

She rubbed both of his shoulders. “I know. And I need to shift my focus to the wraith … that is, to those families I’m protecting.”

He eased out of her and went into the bathroom. He found a cloth in a woven basket below the sink and brought it back to Willow. He tucked it between her legs, smiling down at her. “Thought you might need this.”

She smiled softly, her gaze full of affection. “Thank you. For everything, Malik. This was extraordinary. I can’t tell you how much this meant to me. I feel now as though I could continue another century because I swear your blood has given me some much-needed strength.”

At first her words pleased him, then suddenly they spoke to his own condition. Putting a hand to his stomach, a terrible suspicion ripped through his mind.

She leaned up on her elbows as the last of the vines slipped back through the window. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” The suspicion worked in him badly, disrupting his peace. But he didn’t want to speak the words out loud. “I just feel a need to be going.”

She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Then do that, Malik, but without any guilt. And please, don’t set anything aside for me or worry about offending me. Please. This is very important to me.”

Her words stunned him. He’d had a few, brief relationships over the decades and usually the opposite words fell from a woman’s lips, always demanding more not less. He knew then that whatever this was between them would never be simple.

He nodded. “I have to go.” But panic had started eating up his heart. He touched his stomach and cringed once more. This couldn’t be happening.

He went into the bathroom and cleaned up, then returned to don his clothes. Once he was dressed and ready to get the hell out of there, Willow caught his arms and kissed him once on the lips, a full kiss.

“Malik, I can feel your distress. But truly, you don’t have to think of me ever again. This finishes things. We’re agreed on that, right?”

“Absolutely.” Her words sort of eased him. Somehow he’d make this right, despite what he’d begun to believe was the horrible truth about who she really was in his life.

He moved unsteadily to the doorway and once on the bridge, he drew in a deep breath, willing the truth away.

He flew, but almost crashed straight into a thick branch of oak that would have had no give. Talk about distracted.

He’d meant to go south, to return to his Guard facility. Instead, his mind was so muddled with this latest bizarre turn of events that he flew north.

What he believed might be true felt almost tragic to him. He had nothing to give Willow and he’d been the cause of her father’s death.

But he kept going north because he had to think.

As he flew, he used his cell to let Evan know where he was and that he’d be back in about half an hour. Evan related that things in Birchingwood had calmed down considerably and that most of the villagers had started going about their business. The RIU agent had finally returned to complete his investigation. “Otherwise, the realm is quiet. No Invictus sightings tonight.”

“Good. That’s good.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll talk to you later.”

When he reached his destination, he landed on a massive slab of granite that protruded from the hilltop of one of Ashleaf’s highest mountain ridges over a mile high.

He placed a hand on his stomach once more and shook his head slowly in complete disbelief. He wanted to deny that the lack of cramping he experienced meant something, but he felt it in his bones that Willow’s blood had strengthened him. Even his muscles felt bulked up. He looked down at his thighs and could see that his leathers were tighter than before.

Power flowed through him as well with streams of energy that made him feel like he could do anything.

But it couldn’t be true.

Please don’t let it be true.

His mind rolled backward to how Willow had bathed him. And that’s when a profound longing slammed through him all over again, and he stumbled, losing his footing.

He levitated quickly or he would have fallen over the precipice.

Sweet Goddess, this just could not be happening. Not to him.

And the sex and the vines and Willow’s soft yielding body beneath his … and her blood. Her own responsiveness and their shared cravings for each other …

His heart hurt and his chest felt caved in. He gasped for breath he couldn’t find.

Willow.

No, please, no.

Surely the pain in his stomach would return any minute now and set him free from an entanglement he couldn’t afford.

Surely.

He waited a minute … five … then ten. But for the first time in two-hundred years, since he’d risen to mastyr status, he had no pain. And from the events of the past two years and from the first time he chased Willow through the woods, it all made sense now, especially his complete and utter obsession with her.

There could be no doubt; Willow was his Goddess-be-damned blood rose.

He roared the depth of his frustration, letting his loneliness, his anger at the evil forces in his realm, and his blood-needs rage into the air. He was only surprised that the entire forest didn’t catch fire with the depth of his distress.

When the last roar echoed down the hollows, he began coming back to himself.

Willow was a blood rose.

And nothing could change that.

The problem was that she could never be
his
blood rose.

He’d been in his recently built communication center and he’d read the exchanges of the bonded mastyrs, those who’d gone through exactly what he was experiencing, but who had also embraced their women. He knew the signs, especially the sudden release of centuries of terrible cramping in his stomach because only a blood rose could take that kind of pain away.

In his case, however, there were tough obstacles preventing him from ever bringing Willow fully into his life and he honestly didn’t see how they could be overcome. His own duties demanded all of his time, and he couldn’t be distracted by a woman. There was that. But worse, he’d played a terrible role in her father’s death, so how would Willow ever be able to forgive him for what he’d done?

He cringed inwardly. The memories flooded back of when her father held a sharp blade to the troll’s throat, threatening to kill him. Malik had tried to calm the grief-stricken husband down, but nothing could reach him. When the tall, fae professor sank the blade, cutting deep, he’d given Malik no choice; Malik had fired a single, powerful hand-blast straight into his head, killing him instantly.

The troll had almost died as a result of that cut.

Willow’s fae father had essentially chosen death-by-Guardsman rather than live without his half-wraith, half-fae wife, leaving Willow orphaned.

And now the woman whose father he’d killed was his blood rose.

What a fucking nightmare.

Just when he was ready to release another set of roars, his phone rang. Pulling his cell from the pocket of his leathers, he was surprised to see that his housekeeper, Francesca, was calling him.

And she never called.

Sweet Goddess, what now?

“Francesca? What gives?”

“I am so sorry to bother you, Mastyr, but Davido is in your living room asking for you.”

“Davido? The ancient troll who lives in Merhaine Realm?”

“Yes, that would be him. Davido the Wise. And he’s pacing.”

“He’s pacing?” Malik tried to recall if he’d ever seen Davido
pace.

“He seems sorely distressed, Mastyr, and can’t raise you telepathically. He says he needs to speak to you at once.”

At once. Holy shit. He glanced around. He’d flown two-hundred miles and was a helluva long way from his southern home. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Can’t you get here sooner? He has smoke rising from his elbows.”

“I’ll put on some speed.”

~ ~ ~

Willow sat on the porch of her smaller meditation treehouse, a cup of cinnamon tea in hand. She wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, sitting with her knees up and her bare feet balanced on a footstool. She was listening to the night-birds chatter happily. An occasional bat flew by, something that always made her smile.

Bats were her particular friends, inclined as they were to swallow up insects by the ton-full each night. They kept her garden free of the small winged predators that could gobble up her fresh produce in a heartbeat.

She still had so much feel-good flowing through her veins that all she could do right now was smile. Of course, Malik had seemed distressed, but she knew that he’d deal with whatever was bothering him in his own time and way.

She sipped her tea and smiled a little more. She was in trouble. No question about that. But her veins had all these little joyful bursts of sensation exploding now and then to give her another dose of post-coital bliss.

She’d forgotten what it could be like or maybe she’d never really had this experience before, the savoring of sex with a man as powerful as Malik.

His shoulders. They were so well-muscled and yes, massive, even. She loved how he looked and felt physically, but then again what was not to love? He was a Vampire Guardsman, tall and built. His pecs were so beautiful that she wished she could call him back and spend some time feeling him up and maybe even sinking her wraith-fangs …

She caught her breath, closed her eyes, and forced the thoughts away or she’d be fully aroused all over again.

She’d meant for this to be nothing more than a first-and-a-last time with him, something to cleanse the palette so she could move on and return to her duties as the Protector of the wraith colony. Malik needed to become a distant memory.

She made herself relax and to release the images of him naked in her bed and on top of her, still joined. She wanted more, but she had to let him go.

What surprised her, as another sip of her tea brought the cinnamon sweetly into her mouth, was that she felt better, even stronger after having been with Malik. Maybe it was because she’d taken some of his blood, but she sensed that her ability to support the shield had improved.

Oh, but his blood. Dear sweet Goddess, the memory of not just his exquisite forest flavor, but of how she’d felt and how his blood had been like the most erotic fire down her throat, made her crave him all over again. And the more she’d suckled at his wrist, the more pleasure she’d felt deep inside her well.

If only she could be with him again.

But there was another obstacle besides her role as a Protector, which was something she needed to keep in the forefront of her mind. Malik was a Guardsman, and in many ways his lifestyle was opposed to her deeply committed fae life that always sought peace and a non-violent resolution to all problems.

Malik made war. He killed when necessary.

So, how could she ever be truly connected to all of that?

As the blissful sensations finally began to dim, and her responsibility as the Protector rose once more, she renewed her commitment. She knew her duty and she would fulfill the job given to her above all else.

And though she would always hold this night as one of the finest of her life, she had to let Malik go.

Taking a deep breath, she did just that.

As she stared out into the forest, however, she saw a faint light through all the branches and the leaves of the oak wood. Her heart set up a quick racket. No one should be able to find her here.

She tested the powerful spell that kept her home hidden in complete secrecy, and the charm held.