Fury of Desire

Focus raptor sharp, he stared at her. “What else?”

“Everybody screws up… everybody.” A furrow between her brows, she trailed her fingers over his collarbone and scanned his face. The worry in her eyes almost did him in. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to free her, provide her with opportunity instead of hemming her in. But as she chewed on her bottom lip, Wick lost his way. Right. Wrong. He couldn’t tell one from the other anymore. “I’m a prime example, the poster girl for doing it all wrong. So I want you to listen to me… hear me when I tell you… I’m not looking for perfect. Easy doesn’t interest me, but you do. All I want is to be with you. Just you. No one else.”

Struggling to believe, Wick swallowed hard. “You barely know me.”

“I know you better than you think.” Taking his hand from her waist, she turned his wrist out, revealing the scar on his forearm. He tensed, fisting his hand, trying to pull away, not wanting her to see it. Or ask what it meant. Her grip firmed, holding him still while she traced the brand with her fingertips. “I know where you’ve been. I’ve seen your past.”

“Impossible.” No way. Jesus help him. She couldn’t possibly know.

“God’s honest truth.” Eyes steady on his, her fingertips danced across his puckered skin. Sorrow clogged his throat, making his eyes sting, resurrecting the past while he burned with shame. Cupping his jaw, Jamison shook her head. “Stop it. You have nothing to be ashamed about. What happened to you was done without your consent, neither was it your choice. If I could go back and kill the bastard again for hurting you, I would. Ten times over.”

Fuck him. He couldn’t breathe. Didn’t know how to respond, never mind feel. He never intended to tell her, but somehow, some way, she’d unearthed the truth. “How… I don’t understand.”

“Energy-fuse,” she said. “I feel you… hear you… like a heartbeat. You shared your past without knowing it… through the bond we share… and guess what? I’m still here. It doesn’t scare me and neither do you.”

Her admission laid him bare, cracked him open, leaving him without protection. From the hope. From the need. From the certain knowledge that despite his past, she claimed him for her future. And as the floodgates opened, his throat closed, leaving him unable to do anything other than whisper her name.

“Please, Wick. Don’t shut me out. Don’t send me away. I want you for my own.” Tears in her eyes, she pressed her palm to his chest, right over his heart. “You belong to me, and I love you. Nothing else matters.”

Undone by her, Wick folded beneath the onslaught. He couldn’t resist her. Or deny his need. He’d tried to be honorable. Had made an attempt to do what he believed was right. But Jamison disagreed, and honestly? He wanted her too badly. Was too weak to turn away from all she offered. So he accepted instead. Bowed to fate along with her wishes. “You deserve so much better than me.”

“Then earn it,” she whispered, holding him close, her cheek against his. “Be with me. Accept me. Love me, Wick. That’s all I ask. All I’ll ever need.”

“I do love you.”

“Then it’s settled. I stay.”

Gratitude hit him like a body shot, punching through to his heart. “You stay. But I want something in return.”

“What’s that?”

“Marry me, vanzala… in the way of my kind.” Hands flat against her back, he kissed her collarbone and raised his head. “Stand in the sacred circle with me, say the vows and—”

“Yes.” Sky-blue eyes alight with pleasure, she smiled. “Just tell me when.”

“Now.”

She blinked. “Really? What about the rotunda, the ceremony, all the fancy froufrou stuff?”

“Nothing but bells and whistles.”

Her mouth curved. “No need for any of that.”

He grinned back, and tightening his hold on her, pushed to his feet and swung her into his arms. She settled like a gift, warm and willing against him as he stepped off the edge of the exercise mat. Chilly floors brushing his bare soles, he walked to the middle of the basketball court. As he put her down at its center, anticipation thrummed through him. Soon. In just minutes, she would belong to him.

No second guessing. No going back. His mate in every way that mattered.

Drawing his hands from her, he took a step back. Magic flared, prickling over his palms as he conjured the first stone. Oval in shape with smooth, round edges, the heavy weight settled in his palm. His gaze on hers, he placed it on the floor, then called forth another. And then another. Until eleven identical multicolored gemstones formed a perfect circle around his female. With a murmur, he opened a channel to the Meridian and evoked the spell, imbuing each of the eleven with the source that fed all living things.

Energy snapped, humming in the air like electricity.

Summoning a length of yellow ribbon, Wick pushed to his feet. “Ready?”

Naked, standing unashamed in bright light, Jamison didn’t answer. She held out her hand instead. Releasing a long breath, Wick reached out and slid his palm into hers. She tugged. He accepted her invitation, moving toward fate instead of away as he joined her inside the sacred circle. He stopped in front of her and raised his right hand. Lifting her own, she pressed her palm to his. Within seconds he looped the ribbon up and over, threading the length of satin between their fingers, completing a necessary part of the ceremony, tying them together in a ritual older than time.

“I remember the words from Tania’s wedding,” she said, reverence in her quiet tone. “I’ll go first.”

“Jamison?”

“Yes?”

“Never forget that I love you.”

Tears welled in her eyes. One fell, tipping over her bottom lashes. He brushed it away, and she smiled. Not a lot, just enough to reassure him as she inhaled soft, exhaled smooth and began the rite that would tie them together for all time. “Fate of my fate. Light of my light. Kindred of spirit without shadow or slight. You are mine. And I am yours. Two hearts intertwined forevermore.”

Her vows finished, he began his own, speaking to her in Dragonese, the language of his kind. Gaze steady on hers, his voice rose and fell over rolling r’s and long-drawn s’s. Her breath hitched. Another tear escaped to flow down her cheek. The gemstones started to glow. White light writhed from their centers, dancing in a decadent swirl around their feet. Awe rushed through his veins, making his heart stall as the binding spell took hold, marrying his life force with his female’s, and hers with his.

Pain seared the back of his hand.

The yellow ribbon caught magical flame. Satin turned to cinder as the mating mark burned over his knuckles. Beautiful in design, silver lines drew matching tattoos on their skin. Emotion tightened his throat. Jamison started to cry, and as she laced their fingers, he reeled her in. The warmth of her skin met his. Wick hummed and, holding her close, kissed each tear away. She’d given him a gift beyond measure. His female. His mate. His equal in all things. And as she tucked her head beneath his chin and whispered that she loved him, Wick vowed to protect her always, cherish her forever, and love her until the end of time.

26

Moving slow and steady, Wick slipped from between the sheets and out of bed. As his feet touched the cold floor, Jamison grumbled, protesting the loss of his body heat. His mouth curved as he watched her curl onto her side in the dark. Night vision pinpoint sharp, he saw everything. Every strand of her hair. Each one of her thick eyelashes. The beautiful lines of the mating mark on the back of her hand, telling him plainer than words she was all his.

He flexed his fist and stared at his knuckles, examining his own tattoo.

A mix of emotions tumbled through him. Pride. Thankfulness. But most of all, an overwhelming sense of contentment. So light. So bright. His heart had never been so full before… or so vulnerable. But hell. He couldn’t stop the slippery slide into happiness. Didn’t want to either. Jamison made him feel good: valued, honorable, and