Nights of Roshan (4 page)

Roshan scooped the sheaves of wheat under his arm and placed them at the edge of his roof-top wheat field. He’d never witnessed a ritual like it. The charge of energy in the air, the lyricism of Neiri’s voice as she recited the hymn, even the scent of the wheat in the brisk winter air. He felt at one with the elements. Deified. Masculine. His gaze instantly went to find Neiri. With the statue cradled against her belly, hair softly drifting across her forehead, and that dress, a thing sure to haunt his dreams for an eternity, she resembled priestesses of the ancient world.

He had the briefest vision of her placing down the statue, unravelling the dress from her frame and allowing the moonlight to caress her naked skin. Just like he wanted to. In his mind, she would wander through the cut wheat path and turn her back to the climbing post. She would raise her arms above her head, and silver light would brush her dark nipples as she wrapped the ribbons around her wrists. He blinked. Neiri arched her back, her eyelids low and her mouth parted. He had to be hallucinating. He blinked again. She still stood before him. Entirely nude.

“What…?” he began.

“We’re going to make sure this worked.” She beckoned to him, a siren call, with the simple raise of her leg, her sole pressed to the base of the post. “Finish the ceremony.”

“I thought you said it didn’t involve sex.” He spoke, but he had no idea why he was disagreeing with her. His body moved closer, step by step, obeying her command. His brain wanted to know the catch.

“It’s not for me,” she reminded him. “Come here.”

Lust moved him, shoving him with near-blind desperation through the cut wheat to the goddess at the post. He knelt at her feet, his head resting against the warmth of her gently rounded stomach. Yes, he would
worship
… Pearl light deepened her skin to a rich ochre, glowing. His hands stroked over her legs from ankle to hip. His fingers framed the width of her bones in nothing less than pure admiration. The touch translated to him everything he needed to know. She was an intensely sexual being. Something that had scared her husband. Her sexuality had been beyond his control. She would be an excellent if strict mother, and she was more than made to carry tiger cubs. It amazed him that she thought she was deficient because she hadn’t had children with her ex-husband. The truth was, her body was attuned to a shifter only. Not any weak, ignorant man but a male. Him.

He lowered his hands to one of her ankles, lifting her leg to his mouth, and pressed his mouth to the bone. She shuddered; a cold breeze passed over them but when he touched his mouth to the other side of her ankle, she shook again. A heated, spicy scent trailed from her, speaking of Neiri’s desire. All for him. His willing offering to Min. He would not offer her. The god could have whatever else He desired, but Neiriouri belonged to him tonight.

His kisses brushed higher until he felt a dampness beneath his lips. Such delicious wetness made him crave more. “Hold on,” he commanded, in a growl that was more beast than man. He felt his canines elongating as he hooked her thighs over his shoulders. A shriek left her throat but she tightened her legs around him. Trapping a thigh to his body with a huge forearm, Roshan parted the soft petals of her sex, his fingers instantly glistening from the smallest of grazes over her.

He glanced up at her. “What’s the lucky number for your ancestors?”

“Three.” She breathed the word, arching against him.

His lips lifted in amusement. “We can do better, I think.”

The taste of her was sweet ecstasy, slipping down his throat in nectar-like trickles. His canines tingled with sensation. Grazing then lightly over her flesh only made him harder. So damn hard. She felt so silken and so plump against his lips, he feared he would pierce her with his teeth if he didn’t take care. The way she moved against him, chanted his name and yelped, the goal of three seemed too much of an easy target. His hands tightened about her thighs as she undulated frantically. Without warning, she jerked again and his teeth sank into her. He lifted his head to see where he’d caught her. Four pinpricks marred his view. Slowly, he drew his tongue over each impression and within seconds they healed over. Lucky. He wasn’t sure how her cat disposition would change if he scarred her.

He set her trembling limbs on the soil and rose to his full height. Taking the ends of the ribbons, he rubbed the silken material over the buds of her nipples and pressed his thigh between hers.

“I think you should say the hymn again.”

“What?” She opened her eyes, looking clouded with confusion and lust.

“Say it again.” He pressed his thigh more firmly against her, until she moaned so hard it pulsed through every vein in his cock. Grabbing it by the base, he moved his thigh to keep hers spread and drew the swollen head over her drenched pussy until they both vibrated with pleasure. She whispered each word of the hymn, faltering when he could feel her rising towards an orgasm.

She pushed down against him, until the head pressed inside her. A shudder stiffened his whole frame, every nerve focused on the grip around his cock. With her delicious juices slipping over him, he followed on instinct and grabbed her by the buttocks, lifting her to meet his thrust.

“More,” she groaned. Meeting him each time he moved, she accepted him inch by inch until at last he pressed his full length inside her. Something about the light of the moon, the taste of her cream and the briefest taste of her blood on his tongue, the movements they made against one another was utterly primal. It spoke to his baser needs. To his tiger. It forced his cock to widen, lock deep inside her until his pubis rubbed hard over her own. He barely recognised himself, only the need to roughly drive into his goddess until the sun rose in the sky. The ribbons were taut in Neiri’s hands and she pulled on them in unison with their bodies. He lowered his lips to her arched torso, nudging the ribbon ends out of the path of his searching mouth, his fingers almost clawing into the cheeks of her arse. His orgasm took him by surprise, ripping from his balls to coat her womb. He rested his mouth against her shoulder, breathing heavily. Reaching up, he unravelled the ribbon from her hands and sank to the soil, his cock still buried deep inside her.

“Where did you read this part about the ritual?” he asked, still catching his breath.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” she muttered. “And, just so you know, you’re one orgasm off a really lucky number so…”

He rested on his back, his hands braced on her hips. He rocked her slowly against him and with his cock still lodged firmly in her, he watched her shiver in a growing arc. “You’re welcome,” he grunted.

She touched her fingertips to his torso, tilting her head back. “So are you. Ooh…ooh, and that’s nine.”

His palms drifted over her buttocks, smiling when she shivered. He didn’t feel the cold but he was certain she would soon enough. But she hadn’t moved. Her head still rested back and her hands were still braced on his chest.

“Neiri,” he said softly. She wriggled against him, and it took nothing less than the greatest effort in his soul to slip out of her.

The motion seemed to bring her to her senses. “I don’t know what came over me,” she said eventually.

“I didn’t, but if you wanted me to…”

She slapped him on the torso. “Not appropriate right now. Not when I’m having a mini mental breakdown.”

It’d be a fundamental waste if he did. Her pretty skin wasn’t made for that. Unable to help himself, he leaned up and sucked one nipple into his mouth. A hint of neroli oil teased his taste buds as her hands thrust through his hair, pulling him closer. “Let’s,” he said around her delicious breast, “go inside.”

He didn’t wait for her to agree. He sensed disagreement in the tension of her muscles and would rather they argue without the risk of her suffering hypothermia. Carrying her back down the stairs, he abandoned the instruments of the ritual and their clothing for the heat of his flat.

“Where are we going?”

“To get food. And then you can tell me about any other ceremonies you’ve come across.”

“I told you I don’t know what came over me. It was just… all a bit intense.”

“Uh huh.” He walked her into the kitchen and sat her down on a high-backed stool. She folded her arms over her chest and crossed her legs. Disappointing.

He washed his hands briskly in the sink, then turned on the industrial-sized grill that sat beneath a huge fume hood and removed the tray of marinated meat from the side.

“How do you like your meat?”

“Normally wrapped,” she muttered under her breath.

“Excuse me?” He laughed at her tone. “Not what’s swinging between my legs, I meant rare medium or well done.”

She hid a grin behind her hands. “Ah. Well, what do you have?”

“A variety of cuts of beef. And a rotisserie of wild boar that should be perfect.”

“And you’re going to cook?”

He scratched his chin. “Yes. You’ll note we’re on our own, and there isn’t a team of servants catering to my whims.”

“Just me.”

Roshan rested his hands on the marble counter and leaned into her. “You want to satisfy my every whim?”

She clapped her hands over her eyes. “God’s sake. That’s not what I meant.”

His gaze ran over her flushed face. “Enlighten me.” He watched her mouth as she stumbled over her words.

“I’m not… Well, look, I just…”

“Not enlightened.”

“Oh, be quiet,” she snapped. “I don’t always make sense after…” She waved a hand in the direction of the roof. “So let’s eat and then I’m going to my flat.”

He pressed his mouth to hers briefly. “No.”

She touched her hand to her lips then demanded, “What do you mean no?”

“Exactly that. No. You can stay where you are until you feel articulate enough to let me know what you’re thinking.” Serving up pulled pieces of meat from the rotisserie, he retrieved couscous, spiced rice and a range of sauces for her. Quickly, he grilled the marinated meat for himself. It was grilled for politeness only. He had no issue with meat served
tartare.
She ate ravenously, only pausing to demand water.

He wondered if there was any tiger lineage in her heritage. She certainly had all the traits. A healthy appetite, demanding and snappy. It would explain why he put up with her. That and the overwhelming instinct to please her.

“Are you really allergic to cats?” he asked.

“Can’t be if I’ve had sex with you.” She shrugged. Her eyes widened briefly and she glanced up at him. “Which I did not mean to happen.”

“It’s all right. The power of Min and my all-encompassing masculinity made you.”

She nibbled on a rib. “Well, yeah.”

“It was just the ritual.”

“And the moon. I’m a woman. The moon does strange things to us.”

He nodded slowly, pushing a rum and raisin custard pie towards her. “I concede, that does happen.”

“And with the relief of finally being free from my ex-husband… My feelings are a little skew whiff.” She took a big scoop of the pie. “This is amazing. Did you make this?”

“I made a few.”

“So what are you doing for Christmas?” she asked, munching her way through the dessert. “I’m sure you've got lots of cubs or whatever you lot call yourself coming to rain terror.”

“I told
those lot
not to come.”

She paused. “Why would you want to be alone?”

He blinked slowly. “Do you want to meet them?”

She held up her hands, her breasts bouncing as she jerked from the counter. “Whoa, no! Holy God! No no no. It won’t look good on you. The moon-mood divorced lady who had to swallow your fur in her pool.”