Waking Eden (The Eden Series Book 3) (26 page)

He smiled. A beautiful, genuine smile that ricocheted through every fiber of her being. God, she could swear she actually felt his happiness. A carefree rush of emotion. “I said
you
wouldn’t hurt.”

He guided her hand from his chest, laid a reverent kiss to her knuckles, and lifted her arm so she could better see it. “You’re mine.” He traced the proud horse reared back and ready for flight. “My baineann.” He fingered the detailed wings. “My Spiritu.”

Oh. My. God.

She sat up so quickly she nearly knocked heads with her new husband. “There’s color.” She glanced at Ramsay, now kneeling in front of her. “Lexi’s doesn’t look like this.”

“No one’s looks like that.” He leaned in to appreciate the silver and gold glinting in the feathers. “But then no other Myren has a Spiritu for a mate, now do they?”

It was beautiful. An amazing artistic feat that shouldn’t be possible on a living body.

Her gaze drifted to the welts deepening to bloody crimson on his chest. “I can’t believe you did that. For me.”

He lifted her face with a gentle touch beneath her chin. “I’d do it all again. I’d do it every day, if it meant having you.”

A thousand flutters winged inside her chest. The world around them dimmed and the sweetest instinct tugged her forward. Nothing mattered right now save his touch. The perfect press of his lips against hers.

She smoothed his hair off his face. “You said you’d give me what I want?”

His trademark bad boy grin kicked into place. A little weary and more lopsided than normal, but there all the same. “Anything.”

She rolled to her knees. “All this uncertainty and guesswork has left me a little out of balance.” She nudged his shoulders, urging him to lie back on the cushions.

A wicked glint fired in his silver eyes. He shifted to his back, centering her between his bent legs and giving her the most delicious view of his impeccable body. “Can’t have that. I suppose you have an idea what would get you centered again?”

She stood tall on her knees and ran her hands along his upper thighs toward his hips. The sparse hair tickled her palms, a stark contrast to the powerful muscles beneath. “I think I’d like to drive.”

His eyes darkened and his smile slipped.

The wind snapped around her like the tail of an angry cat. She scraped her nails down the prominent V at his hips, stopping just short of his rapidly hardening erection. “Does that bother you?”

His cock jerked in answer before he could. “Does it look like I’m bothered?” He thrust his pelvis up suggestively and threaded his hands behind his head. “Take what you want. Just get your hands on me before I take over.”

His shaft lay long and thick against his belly, the flared head slightly darker than the tanned skin beneath it. Shadows from the firelight accented every dip and groove of muscles along his abdomen, chest, and arms. So much to enjoy. The question was where to start.

“Hands, Trinity.” The heat behind his stare nearly engulfed her. A giant inferno so violent it wouldn’t leave so much as ash behind. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

She crawled over him, purposefully avoiding his cock. “Just thinking about how my instructor would have suggested I tackle my assignment.” She anchored her hands at either side of his head. “He seems to be a fan of long, drawn-out torment. I’m thinking I should give that approach a try.”

His eyes were locked on her breasts, his mouth slightly ajar and ready for action.

She dipped her torso just enough to tease him, then shifted downward and pressed a kiss to the starburst welts above his heart.

“I’ve created a damned monster.” Playful, but strained. Talk about a boost for her feminine morale. He didn’t just sound like a man who wanted sex. He sounded like he’d die in the next few minutes if he didn’t find release.

She licked along the center of his chest, tracing each indentation with slow, lingering kisses. His skin tasted of salt and warmth, one hundred percent male and potent. With every inch and every kiss, his anticipation became her own, his need, her want.

She flicked her tongue against his navel, careful to avoid the waiting erection just beneath.

His abdominals rippled and his breath hissed between clenched teeth. “Need your hands on my dick, Trinity.” He flexed his hips. “Now.”

Angling sideways, she nipped the tight flesh at his hip. “Hands?” She kissed the same spot and inhaled deep. His earthy, exotic scent blended with the wood smoke and the ocean’s salty breeze.

She lifted her head, mouth poised over his cock, and clashed into his silver gaze. “I was thinking of something a little more…” She licked her lower lip and cast a coy glance at his staff. “Wet.”

He uncurled one arm from behind his head and fisted his hand in her hair. To his credit, he didn’t force her so much as an inch, but the tension was there. Demanding need. Fierce determination. “You enjoying yourself?”

A smile spread wide before she could stop it, one she was sure her Black brethren would be pretty darned proud of. “Infinitely.”

“Good.” He undulated again, bringing the tip of his sex to her lips. “Remember that when I’ve got you begging for my cock.”

Her core clenched and the image of him behind her, fingers digging into her hips as he plunged deep flashed vivid in her mind.

Okay. Maybe she’d toyed with him enough. Especially if it meant making that picture a reality. She licked the slick head and his tangy pre-cum settled at the back of her tongue, a carnal taste that drew her back for more. Sucking him in, she flattened her tongue against his hot length and swallowed.

“Daaamn.” His guttural exclamation vibrated like a living presence all around them, and his other hand joined its mate, clenching in her hair. No force, but tightly leashed power. An unspoken testament to the strength he held in check. For her.

She cupped his tight sack and gloried in the mix of soft skin and formidable strength. The stark veins along his cock rasped against her tongue with each push and pull of her mouth. So thick. Stretching her lips. Promising the same glorious sensation as he tunneled deep.

A slow, tingling warmth pooled in her belly. Faint at first, then growing. Ribbons of pure ecstasy slithered towards her breasts and between her thighs.

She moaned around his shaft and widened her knees. Her hips lifted in wanton invitation, but met only a sharp stroke of cool air. God, whatever he was doing beat any vibrator known to man. She wanted more of it. Now.

“Like that?” The rumble in his voice matched the ever-increasing vibration at each pleasure point.

She took all of him that she could in answer, his cockhead meeting the back of her throat as she swallowed. This was supposed to be about him, giving back the selfless sensual indulgence he’d shown her. She’d never last. Not with his unfathomable assault running wild at her core.

“Crawl up here, Sunshine.” He urged her upward with firm hands at the back of her head. “Fucking love your mouth, but need your pussy.”

His claim plucked her already taut strings of pleasure, nearly pushing her to climax without so much as a physical touch.

His cock slipped free of her mouth and bobbed against her lips. She tongued the ridge and met his heavy-lidded gaze. “Is it terrible I like how dirty that sounds?”

He gripped her under each arm and half dragged, half lifted her on top of him. His cock lay flat against his skin, her slick labia splayed deliciously around his length. He clasped her hips and prodded her into a decadent motion, rubbing her wet center up and down his shaft. Teasing her with yet an additional sensation. A promise without fulfillment.

“There’s nothing wrong with dirty.” He flexed upward, grazing her clit with his cockhead, then pulled back. Back and forth, he guided her. Again and again. Always ending with his head in perfect alignment, but never thrusting where she needed him. The tingling sensation grew at every pleasure point. “Tell me what you want, Sunshine.”

“Stop teasing me.” She tried to overpower his rhythm, but his hands held her steady.

“Uh-uh. Told you I’d make you beg for it.” He nudged her sex and grinned. The swirling vibration behind her clit jumped so high she flinched. He teased the fine hairs on her mound in a soft touch. “Tell me. Make it dirty. I dare you.”

Dirty. She couldn’t think, let alone conjure up dirty. She tumbled forward and gripped his shoulders, angling her hips for the extra pressure at her clit.

He took full advantage of the adjustment, cupping one breast and flicking her hard nipple with his tongue. “Tell me to fuck you. Beg me to fill your pussy with my cock.” He sucked the point into his mouth. He prodded her entrance. Ready. Waiting.

Her body shook. Sweat misted her back and the space between her breasts. Air whipped around them and the fire radiated against her skin, heightening already overpowered sensations.

The words sat eager on her tongue. Her insides coiled so tense she thought she might explode. She could do this. Wanted it. “Fuck me.”

Ramsay’s gaze bore into hers, hotter than the fire. A scorching stare that obliterated what was left of her hesitancy.

“Fill my pussy with your cock. Make me yours.”

A blast of pure lust washed across his face. Animal surging beyond the man for just a glimpse before he filled her in one unyielding thrust.

So full. Hard and thick. Pistoning into her sensitive channel and holding her firm against each advance. Flesh slapped against flesh. Moans and grated pleas tangled with the wind. This was connection. A primal, perfect joining. No shame. No rules. Just desire, need, and the flawless melding of two souls.

He flicked the neglected nipple with his tongue then murmured against it, his hot breath nothing short of glorious. “My naughty little Spiritu.” He nipped the peak with his teeth. “Time for you to fly.”

He sucked her nipple deep and shifted the angle of his thrusts, rasping the sweet spot inside her. Once. Twice.

Her walls clamped tight, fisting his shaft with a desperation she felt all the way to her soul. Her pulse roared to match the ragged shout rattling up her throat, at her neck, her wrists, the arches of her feet, between her legs.

His cock tunneled in and out, matching the beat of her heart perfectly, drawing out the sweet uproar rolling through her and pushing it to an even higher apex.

He gripped her hair, dragging her head back. “Look at me.”

She pried her eyelids open. Was it her imagination or did the fire beside them burn higher? Brighter? Above them sharp, blue arcs of electricity snapped and crackled.

He held her hips stationary and slammed deep, the whites of his eyes glowing neon. Wild. Completely untamed. “Mine.” He speared to the hilt and threw back his head, unleashing a roar that shook everything around them. His cock jerked inside her.

Her pussy contracted, a whole new level of pleasure mingled with his, body shaking as she writhed against him. There was no world, no reality, save the press of his hot body against hers.

Slowly her muscles loosened. Relaxed into the soothing stroke of his hand along her spine and the brush of the ocean’s breeze.

Amazing. Utterly, mind-alteringly amazing. Too good to ever recreate. Which was just as well. She wasn’t sure she could live through such a profound moment twice.

He kissed her forehead, lips warm, fingers massaging the back of her neck.
“Not too good. Perfect.”
The words formed in her mind as clearly as her own thoughts.

Telepathy. How odd that it worked like a thought. And how exciting that she finally had a link with someone. Had a family connection of her own.

“Not just family,”
he answered.
“A mate. And what you just felt? It’s what you deserve. What I’ll give you every single time.”

S
erena strode
down the long open breezeway towards Thyrus’ office, two of Eryx’s guards flanking her. She gripped her fur-trimmed jacket tight beneath her breasts and ducked her head against the unseasonably cold wind. As weather went, she couldn’t have picked a worse time to leave her home. Cush and Havilah favored comfortable climates most of the time, warm days and brisk nights, but every now and then Great Mother threw a tantrum.

Fine with her. She needed time away from home, bad weather or not. More importantly, she needed out from under Uther’s watchful eyes. His visits the last three days had kept to the overnight hours, but she got the distinct impression he kept close tabs on the activities at her home during the day. If her instincts steered her right, today’s outing was a pursuit best kept to herself.

She flicked her fingers toward Thyrus’ office at the furthest end of the corridor and the ebony door with its etched detail opened wide. “I’ll be a while,” she said to the men behind her, barely sparing them a withered glance. She gripped her satchel a bit tighter. “I suggest you find someplace warm to occupy yourself. I’ll send a runner to fetch you when I’m ready to return.”

“We’ll wait,” the dark-headed one on her left said, pausing just outside the threshold.

Warmth wafted through the opening. She stepped inside just as Thyrus lumbered around his wide mahogany desk. Overcast skies lit the otherwise comfortably furnished room through a wide picture window that spanned the far wall. In the corner, his assistant scribbled diligently in a thick journal. “My counsel’s office is protected space.” She waved her hand at their warrior garb. “You’ll be miserable out here dressed like that.”

The other warrior turned his back and crossed his arms, feet braced defiantly. His long wavy hair whipped madly in the wind. No mark graced his forearm.

Unmated and free of current entanglement. Eryx might be a pain in her ass, but his warriors were exceptional specimens. This one in particular would be a pleasant distraction if she had more time to kill.

“We’ll be fine.” The dark-haired man’s voice dripped with disgust.

She shrugged and gripped the door. “Suit yourself,” she said with a smile and shoved the panel shut.

“You’d do better to develop good relations with them.” Thyrus hustled closer and held out his hand. “How was the trip over?”

“Miserable.” Keeping her jacket on, she settled beside the roaring hearth in a crimson wingback. “And I’d be more than willing to foster a very intimate relationship with the blond, though I do believe his fellow warrior thinks I’m the diabhal incarnate.”

Thyrus sprawled on the ivory couch beside her. “Can I get you something to drink? It might not yet be noon, but a finger or two of strasse might be just the thing to fight your chill.”

As if pulled to attention with the snap of a finger, his assistant stood and waited beside his desk, ready for action.

The harsh scent of the berries used to ferment the brew upended her stomach on a good day, let alone one where she needed her mind sharp. “A minute or two by the fire and I’ll be fine.”

Thyrus waved dismissively at his assistant. “Go. Take some extra time for lunch. Maybe spend some time at the market.”

As if anyone would willingly spend time in this blustering morning. Still, the prepubescent-looking man scurried off, snatching a poor excuse for an over robe off a hall tree on the way.

“Now.” Thyrus threaded his meaty paws on top of his wide girth and wiggled deeper into the already strained cushions. “What brings you out in such foul weather?”

“The second book I asked you to keep for me, you said you’d keep it safely stored here?”

Thyrus rolled his lower lip out in a thoughtful pout and nodded. “Have it in the safe as you asked.”

“Good. Would it be possible for you to give me some time to study it? Maybe take an hour or two alone in your conference room?”

“Yes, of course.” He pried himself from the couch and motioned toward the back room. “Don’t know why you got out for the occasion, though. Would’ve happily sent the tome via carrier.”

She picked her satchel up off the floor and followed him. “I’ve assured Angus the copies would be kept safe. I’m uncomfortable enough with the more recent copy unprotected in my home. Housing one a thousand years older would worry me to no end.” And would give Uther an excuse to have a copy of his own. Not something she was amenable to.

Compared to the main office, Thyrus’ conference room was a sterile gray offset only by the Blackwood table stretched from end to end and a wall of legal texts in all manner of leather bindings. Maybe it was the overcast gloom, but the room felt twenty degrees colder than the one behind them.

“I thought you said the journals were the same.” He set the candles spaced down the table’s center alight with a wave of his hand and pulled out a chair for her.

“According to Angus, they are,” she lied quickly. “Some of the markings in the newer copy are too worn to decipher. I was hoping the same translations would be more apparent in the older text.” In actuality, Angus had warned of subtle differences between the two texts. Most might be identical, but rumor had it some of the symbols had alternate meanings in the older texts. A factor she hoped would shed light on a few nonsensical, yet apparently key translations.

Thyrus spun the old-fashioned combination safe, a human contraption that looked like it had been hand-delivered from the wild, Wild West. “Perhaps I could be of assistance? I have something of a knack for languages.”

Praise The Great One, no. She’d given Uther only enough to whet his whistle, but the full breadth of what she’d already uncovered was enough to spur the most conscientious of men to a greedy pursuit of power.

“I have no doubt you’d be a great help, but I find the solitary time soothes me.” She nudged an air of woe and helplessness toward her colleague. “I have a feeling the next year will be filled with many such projects to pass the time.”

He grunted in agreement and pulled the worn brown book from a shelf. Tiny dust motes stirred the muted gray light from the windows. “Here you go then.” He slid the book across the table and dusted his hands. “Take your time. I’ve got a few errands to run and an ellan to meet for midday meal. Just pack up the journal if I’m not here when you’re done and give the dial a spin.” He waddled across the room, breath heaving from his barely accelerated endeavors. “Help yourself to snacks and drinks at the bar while you’re here.”

The door shut behind him with a quiet
thunk
.

She traced the journal’s spine. Cracked, aged leather scraped the pad of her finger.

Muted shuffles and footsteps sounded from the outer room, followed by the clunk of the main door.

She fingered the satchel flaps, waiting.

No sounds save the intermittent wind gusts on the windows.

She flipped the fasteners and pulled her tablet free, smoothing the crinkled pages. Front and center, the scribbled notes she’d toiled over nearly non-stop for the last three days stared back at her. Not the shambled bits and pieces she’d placated Uther with, but the ones that stirred her visions. Made her re-think all her plans in the most dramatic of ways. The words of The Great One. The long foretold prophecy, save the most important words she needed to complete the puzzle.

So close. She’d wasted nearly a whole day wading through the sketchy drama outlined in the early passages of Uther’s tattered family journal. Some nonsense about the transgressions of Myren men against a human woman that had triggered the whole bloody affair, but this…

She re-read the last passage. This had to be it. The key to it all. A few, frustratingly vague symbols worn by too many years and second-rate care all that stood between her and all she ever wanted. If the rest of Uther’s family wasn’t already dead, she’d recommend he torture and kill every last one of them for their foolish disregard of the legacy they’d held all these years.

She gently pulled Uther’s felt-wrapped journal from her satchel. Peeling away the black fabric, she opened the book to the last passage and laid it side by side with the ancient translation from Thyrus’ safe. Tension held her spine rigid, and the ache of days pouring over the texts tugged at the base of her neck. Her arms shook with each cautiously turned page, a dangerous mix of the room’s chill and the hunt.

One symbol after another, she worked through the older translation. Some easily distinguished from others, some varying only by a small mark or nuance. Time passed too quickly. The sun’s overcast beams shifted through the high window and everything from her waist down tingled with near numbness.

An open palm with wavy lines above it sat near the bottom of the page, the second of the two images she’d failed to translate. All she’d garnered from the more recent translation was that the symbol represented food, which made no sense.

She pulled a candle closer and leaned in.

Shifting to her tablet, she set the options to paper.

Feed. It had to be feed. But feed who?

Four pages later another word clicked into place. Family.

Damn it. Feed who? She’d reached the end of the translation and hadn’t seen one reference to the last symbol.

She flipped to the start of the translation again. One image was all she had left, two circles with a box on top.

Carefully, she turned the page. Then another. She started to turn the third and froze. It was the last on the page. No wonder she’d missed it.

To bear. That had to be it.

Her heart surged in an eager sprint. If she wielded the key, she could have the powers. No man between her and her desires. No reliance on others to keep their vows. Just because a man had always been the one to command the sum of all Myren powers didn’t mean it had to remain that way.

A muted thud sounded from the outer room.

Serena ripped the full translation from her tablet and stuffed it in her satchel. With her mind she navigated the older book to the safe and pushed the door closed with a heavy swoosh as the door latch behind her clunked. She gave the safe’s dial a quick mental twist and perched over her tablet.

“Hard at work,” Uther said from behind her.

What in histus was he doing here?

“I wondered what had you out and about.” He hovered over her shoulder. “Any more luck?”

A damned treasure trove. Not that he needed to know. She showed him the same heavily parsed section she’d shown him the day before and waved to the wall of books behind her. “I can’t seem to get past this section. I’d hoped Thyrus’ library might offer up some clues, but I haven’t had much luck.” She tucked the tablet in her satchel, careful to keep the full translation hidden. “I think it’s best I move on to the next section and see if it brings any more success.”

Uther studied her, the shrewd narrowing of his eyes amplifying her pulse to the point it pounded in her ears. “Why aren’t there any books on the table?”

She flipped the latches on her satchel into place and lifted an arrogant eyebrow. “You’re going to tell me how to do my research now? I don’t see you making any progress on your own. I hardly think you’re in a place to question my methods.” She stood and lifted her satchel. “For the record though, I’d already finished my research and cleaned up before you got here. Speaking of, how did you get past the guards?”

Uther’s gaze slid along the wall of books, considering, before he met hers and smirked. “Masking is one of my stronger skills. Particularly when there are sufficient distractions that help me hide my presence.”

“How?”

“Now you’re questioning my methods?”

She waved him off and headed to the main room. “Not the same thing at all. You were calling mine into question. I was learning.”

She was halfway to the door, her heart almost back to a bearable rhythm.

Uther grasped her arm and spun her to face him. “I won’t tolerate lies.”

Of course, he wouldn’t. The man had as much sympathy in him as her father. It didn’t matter. The gamble would be worth it in the end if she could find that key.

She smiled with more confidence than she felt. “Neither will I. Now, if you won’t tell me how you got past the guards, then at least tell me if your tricks would work in a more secure environment.”

“How secure?”

She gave him her back and continued her trek to the door and the guards waiting beyond. “I want you to get us in the castle. They’ve got the official translations, and we’ll never get past where I’m at without them.”

“You want to steal right out from under the malran’s nose?”

Well, not the translation tables. Something far more important than that. But Uther didn’t need to know that detail. Not yet anyway. She twisted the latch and tossed a mocking smirk his direction. “If you want the power, you’ll have to take the risk.”