again. But he couldn’t. He just bloody well couldn’t. His hands, fingers, skin, muscles . . . they all refused to move. It was as if his body was beyond his mind’s control.
He looked up, caught her staring at him.
“I feel,” he uttered.
Her nostrils flared. “Should I say I’m sorry?”
He slowly shook his head. “No.”
“Then what should I say, Synjon?”
“Bloody hell,
For one moment, she seemed to struggle internally, about pushing him away or giving in to what they couldn’t seem to deny themselves. But before they took their next breath, the latter won. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back, followed him as he changed the angle, moaned with him when he parted her lips and stroked her tongue with his own.
His hands raked up her back and plunged into her hair. It felt like silk. Yes. He could feel it. Just as he could feel the warm, wet heat of her mouth, and the smooth skin of her neck, the curve of her belly, and the slight back-and-forth movement of her hips as she simulated what her body wanted from his.
Could he touch her here? Have her here? On the cold, wet floor of this cave?
Fuck.
His hand swept around her side and palmed her breast through her tank and bra. He groaned with the feeling. She was so heavy, so warm, her nipple rising against his palm, begging to be touched, gently twisted, insistently suckled.
She whimpered, pressed herself closer into his hand. “Oh, yes. Gods, that feels good.”
The cave filled with a new scent. Her scent. And he wanted to lap at the walls, taste her arousal in every drop of condensation.
He ripped his mouth from hers and dipped down into the curve of her neck. He suckled her vein, then kissed her hard and hungry. There were so many places on her body he wished to drink from. If she would allow it, he’d start from the bottom and work his way up.
Just to make the point that he wanted what pressed so eagerly against him, his hand left her breast and journeyed down to cup her sex.
He nearly lost his mind.
Hot, wet, and pulsing.
In one swift and impulsive move, he lowered his head and suckled her breast through the fabric of her tank, while slipping his hand inside the waistband of her jeans. He found her smooth pussy drenched in arousal and eased two fingers inside her.
She cried out. Froze for a full five seconds. Then, like a female possessed, started bucking against his hand. Back and forth her hips swayed as she moaned and groaned, as the walls of her sex squeezed around his fingers and released more blazing-hot cream.
What was he doing? What the bloody fuck was he doing? His cock was so rock hard inside his jeans, he thought it might burst. But he refused to release it, give in to what it craved. He couldn’t take that from her again. Not now. Not yet. Here, in this cave, with the moon bathing her in its light, Synjon had only one thought, one goal. He wanted Petra to feel, release. He wanted her to come. Against his palm, his fingers. Against him. He wanted it like he wanted his next blood meal. As if he wouldn’t survive without it.
This wasn’t emotion.
This was pure physical desire.
As he teased and nipped at her breast with his teeth, he found her swollen clit and circled the bud with his thumb. She was so hot, her breathing so labored as she writhed and whimpered against him.
“Come for me, love,” he uttered against her soaking-wet tank. “I can’t wait to feel your tight, hot pussy shake and quiver around my fingers.”
She moaned.
“I remember how it felt around my cock.”
It happened in an instant. Total disconnect. It was as if the moon had extinguished her light and a cold wind blew through the cave. Neither was true, but the sudden gasp from Petra’s throat, and the way she jerked out of his hold and backed up a few feet, made it feel true.
Stunned, Synjon stared at her, his fingers wet, his dick hard and pulsing as the moon illuminated her dark hair, making it seem as if she wore a halo.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, breathing hard. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I won’t be that. Not that female.”
“What female? What are you talking about?” He was so physically amped up, he thought his head would explode. He needed blood.
He needed her.
“One of those many emotionless nothings you screw and send home.”
“I refuse to be that.”
The words played hide-and-seek on his tongue. If he said them out loud he was admitting not only to her but to himself that he had an emotional bond, however slight, to her and the
He couldn’t allow that.
He might not have his emotions anymore, but he had his memories. All that time mourning the loss of his female, thinking her dead, when in truth Cruen had taken her, caged her, called her the Breeding Female and forced her to feel pain and sexual misery until Lucian Roman could be brought in to service her.
Then holding her in his arms, watching the light leave her eyes as Cruen killed her a second time.
No. Nothing. Not even this female and her child could break his resolve for vengeance.
Petra stood several feet away, her arms wrapped around her chest, trembling. “I deserve a male who loves me, wants me for more than just a shag.”
His eyes found hers in the near darkness. “The doctor. The bear shifter.”
She nodded. “I hope so. I think that would be best. He’s always been there, offered himself. He wants to be our family. Me and the cub.”
A cold stillness crept over Syn, and he couldn’t stop himself. “No.”
“You don’t get to say no,” she said, her voice tight and small. “You don’t get to have an opinion about me and this child at all.”
Despite the implacable resolve he’d had a moment ago, he felt it again. Scratching inside him. So small, barely noticeable. But it was there. His connection to the
“I’ll survive. Just as I have been. It won’t be long now.”
“I can’t allow it.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“The
Her lip curled and her fangs dropped. “Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes,” he said with unmasked domination. “Unfortunately I do.”
Phane stood beside Helo, Nicky, and Lucian as Dillon and Alex continued their efforts to persuade Petra’s mother to see reason. Well, the Order’s reason. Clearly his
He turned to look at the ancient
