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“Cabal.” Her voice was breathless.
It was breathless in passion as well, he remembered. Sweet and husky, drawn from deep within her chest as pleasure stole through her. He wanted to hear it again, her soft little cries, her mews of need and ecstasy.
“I dream of you.” The words were dragged from him. He hadn’t meant to whisper those words, hadn’t meant to reveal that information to her. “I dream of touching you, of licking every inch of your flesh.”
She shivered. Cabal watched the betraying little ripple as it rushed across her body. Wide gray eyes stared up at him, a little bemused, a lot wary. He could see the hungry need in her eyes, in the ripening of her lips, in the flush of her cheeks.
He couldn’t force himself to move from her path, to allow her to walk from the room and into danger. His sweet, sweet mate. Why would he do something so insane when he could have her beneath him, arching into his touch, begging for the completion that only he could bring her?
“Cabal, don’t do this.”
He paused, his lips a breath from hers as he watched the conflicting emotions chase across her face, smelled them in her subtle scent. Anger. A shade of pain and bitterness. And determination. She was determined to do what she had come here to do, and he was deliberately standing in her way.
Mating heat was one thing, but at this moment he was deliberately igniting those fires to keep her here. To keep her safe.
“Letting you go tonight isn’t going to change anything,” he warned her softly. “You can run forever, Cassa, and I’ll be right behind you.”
Her lips trembled, and it was all he could do to keep from catching them beneath his own and loving them with all the hunger he could feel building between her and him.
She was his. God had created her for him, matched her to him. Heart and soul, she had been meant for him.
“I’m a possession,” she whispered painfully. He could feel the pain, smell it on the air around them. “A mate. That’s all, Cabal.”
“My only mate,” he reminded her, his voice harsh. “You should be thankful I haven’t loaded you up in a heli-jet and had you whisked back to Sanctuary.”
“You should be thankful that I didn’t shoot you first.” She was nose to nose with him now, anger overwhelming arousal, pride adding its bittersweet scent.
She wanted to deny him, but her fingers were holding on to his arms, the tips massaging his flesh. She was denying him, even as she held on to him.
“I should show you how good staying here could be,” he whispered.
He wanted to act on it. His tongue wanted to act; the glands beneath it were swollen, hot, the mating hormone begging to be released into the warm depths of her mouth. He could just lick her. Just lick over the lush curves of her lips. It would take no more than that. The mating hormone in the glands of his tongue was eager, ready for release once again.
Cabal clenched his teeth, fought for control. Just a little control. Now was not the time for this. He had his own meeting to attend and arrangements to make to ensure her safety.
But how fucking sweet she was. He knew her now, knew the taste of her and the intoxicating effects it would have on him.
So intoxicating.
A growl rumbled in his chest. One hand lowered, fingers cupping the curve of her rear as he jerked her close, lifted her, ground her against the erection throbbing hard and hot beneath his jeans.
He could have her now, he could take her. All it would take was a single kiss. One hot, desperate caress of his tongue against hers and she would belong to him. She wouldn’t be able to deny him.
“Cabal.” If it was a protest, then it was a weak one.
Her head fell back as his lips moved to her jaw, her neck. He didn’t lick, though he wanted to. He was dying to.
Instead, his lips only parted, his teeth raked over the sensitive flesh as his cock jerked at the sound of her sudden, needy little moan.
Sweet heaven. That was what he needed from her. The sound of her pleasure. Not her protests, not the look of wariness or fear in her eyes. But just this, Cassa’s pleasure.
? CHAPTER 10 ?
She was dying in his arms.
Cassa could feel the waves of heated, intoxicating need rushing through her system; she embraced it even as she fought it. Her nails dug into his forearms as her head fell back helplessly, her senses trained on the intensity of sensation rushing over her neck. The sharp tips of the wickedly long canines raked against her skin and sent spirals of exquisite pleasure racing in their wake once again.
Her toes were actually curling against the carpet as she tried not to lift closer to him, and failed. As his thigh slipped between hers, pressing against the desperate need throbbing between her legs, a moan left her throat. Her hips undulated as she rode the hard muscle; her nails dug into the material of his shirt, and she felt the rush of wild wetness spilling from her sex.
