Blood Moons (14 page)

Finally!
Dara arched, stroking her hands up and down his torso, loving the movement of hard muscles under her touch.

She raked her nails lightly down his back and had the pleasure of hearing him groan, as if that had felt incredible.

Just don't stop,
she silently willed. He couldn't change his mind again. Just the thought of it made her dig her nails in a little harder.

Never. Nevernevernevernever ...
Tristan grabbed her ass, pulled her up tighter against himself. Raking his hand down her thigh, he hooked her leg around him again, the way it had been that night. His shields were breaking down and Dara could tell that he did this from memory, reliving it, changing the script. Making it go right this time.

She thrilled and rolled her hips into his thrust. His strength was enormous but so carefully leashed, and his drugging 124

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kisses left her breathless and yearning for more. It was messing with her head, the way his hands were never still.

Dara felt them everywhere, petting her entire body all at the same time. In some hazy corner of her mind she recognized that her perception was skewing, incorporating his thoughts as well. She felt what he was doing and what he
wanted
to do. It made her lose all track of time, space, and direction, and she could do nothing except feel.

Tristan tore his mouth away from hers. She moaned at the loss but then she felt his lips on her cheek, by her ear.
Oh,
God,
just below. He nipped her neck playfully, then pressed his open mouth to the spot to soothe it. Dara raked her nails over his back as far as she could reach, wanting him closer,
needing
to feel him everywhere.

His tongue traced along the neckline of her T-shirt, then his teeth nipped again, this time catching the fabric. It tore so easily Dara gasped, her knees closing on his hips in reflex. He groaned and curled his hips in a long, hard thrust against her.

It brought the heat of him precisely to the right spot, making her shiver.

"More!"
she demanded, clamping a hand over her mouth to smother a cry. He did it again, squeezing her breasts at the same time. He kissed the fingers covering her mouth, licked the crevices between them, coaxing them aside. Dara had to bite her tongue to keep quiet, but then he was kissing her again and she fisted her hand in his hair to keep him there.

God, she could come like this. With just this. She was so close her body trembled for release. Tristan pinched her nipple through her bra, rolled his hips, then settled his weight 125

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atop her and rocked against her, intensifying the friction. She could feel the climax coming, held her breath in anticipation.

But just before she could have it, he pulled away.

Dara cried out, tugged at his hair in retaliation, tightened her legs around him to get him back, but he would not be moved. Not again!

Tristan braced himself on his forearms to make sure he wouldn't crush her, small as she was, and thrust against her in a slow, languorous caress that had them both gasping for breath. Her arms around him tightened, drawing him closer, and he happily obliged, dropping his head to her chest. A quick tug with his teeth and the front clasp of her bra popped open, baring her breasts to his hungry gaze.

More beautiful than I imagined.
Perfectly plump with dusky nipples beading for him, begging to be licked. He took one into his mouth and suckled, teasing the hard bud with his tongue. Her soft cries were music to his ears. Dara was trying to muffle them, keep as quiet as she could, but it only made him want to hear more. He wanted to hear her scream for him in ecstasy. Tristan wanted her to remember this night for the rest of her life, because he sure as hell would.

Tristan sucked her hard, nipped her gently, then licked and kissed in delight until she squirmed beneath him. He knew she was on the brink again, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction just yet.
"Sensory overload? By the time I'm done
with you, lass, you'll know what that means,"
he promised and shifted to lavish her other breast with the same kind of attention.

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"Why don't you lose the pants, and then we'll talk,"
she replied saucily, straining against him, trying at the same time to bring her breast to his hand and her pelvis harder against his. His laugh turned into a groan.
"My timing,"
he told her and filled her mind with images of what he would do. Just as he'd imagined them time and again.

He would keep her on that edge as long as he could.

Hours, maybe. Until her body craved his touch more than air.

He would taste all of her, again and again, tease and torment until she begged for him, ordered him to ease her. Tristan wanted her wild and out of control; he wanted her demanding and greedy for what he could give her. By the time he was done, she would know he was the only one who could bring her to that desperate state—and he was the only one who could then sate her. Completely.

Tristan wanted this night seared into her memory so that she couldn't keep from thinking about it every time she looked at him. He wanted her to hunger for him as much as he did for her. He wanted her to
need
him.

Dara writhed even more.
"Oh, God, Tristan,
please
! I need
you now!"

"What do you want, Dara?"
he asked in a devil's voice.

"This?"
He shifted his weight to gain more leverage and thrust against her.
"Or this?"
Shifting again, he kissed her sternum and trailed his tongue down to her navel, dipping inside briefly. The front of her pants opened easily and he kissed her even lower, in the crease of her hip, but still not where he knew she needed it. His mouth watered for that intimate taste, but he denied them both, waiting for her answer.

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"Yes,"
she cried again, both in his mind and out loud.

But it wasn't enough.
"Yes what? What do you need, lass?

Say it. Tell me what you need."
His voice was different, deeper. He didn't care.

"Anything,"
she panted and he no longer knew whether he heard her in his mind or not.
"Everything. I want all of you."

"Yes!"
His ego shouted in triumph. Sweeter words he'd never heard before in his life.
Anything
, she'd said. Freedom to do with her whatever he wished. Falling over her once more, he slipped his hand into her pants and nearly came then and there to find her wet and wanting. The first thing he wanted...

Dara cried out when he touched her clit. His clever, cruel fingers stroked while he bent his head to her breast again, suckling her in perfect rhythm to them.
"Are you ready to
come for me, sweet Dara?"
she heard him say just as one of those fingers dipped inside her just a little, then retreated at once. He stroked her again, bringing her so close ... but he was still only teasing her. Her entire body was tense, straining for what he held just out of reach. She reached for his cock, just barely brushed it with her fingertips before he pulled away with a groan.
"Not yet."

"
Now,
" she cried. He was torturing her on purpose; wanting her completely wild and screw the consequences.

And, damn him, it was working. Dara would do just about anything for him to screw
her.
Or at least let her come. Just once. "Please!" She couldn't take this much longer.

His finger dipped into her briefly, retreating just before she could climax.

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"Tristan!"

He groaned again. "I love the way you say my name," he purred in her ear. As if to reward her for it, two of his fingers slid into her, thrusting against the most perfect spot nature had ever granted a woman and she nearly screamed, rising off the bed, held down by Tristan as she finally,
finally
came.

And it went on, and on, hard and merciless, just like his teasing had been, her body squeezing his fingers inside her, weeping for his cock.

Tristan hushed her cries with his mouth, taking her breath and giving her his own as sensation washed over her, so intense her vision went dark for a moment. He continued to stroke her, knowing precisely when and how to keep pleasure coursing through her in waves.

Their minds as one, Tristan felt what she felt, reflected it back to her like a cascade of pleasure. Another orgasm followed right on the heels of the first one and Dara heard him curse harshly. Every pleasure, large and small, they shared. In that dizzying loop between their minds again, Dara felt the pleasure Tristan got through her. He could feel her orgasm, as if it was his own, but didn't ejaculate. Through him, she sensed him touch her and feel the impact on his own skin. Her thoughts, scattered as they were, guided him and the more she felt, the more it affected him. There were no more secrets, no more barriers between them. All of him was exposed to her, just as all of her was his to explore, though Dara was too far gone to focus on that.

Before the last of her pleasure had ebbed away, he replaced his fingers with his cock, filling her completely and it 129

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felt almost like relief. Dara cried out at the same time as he gave a harsh growl-groan.
"God,"
he said in her mind, unable to form the words in voice.
"Wet ... hot ... So. Damn. Tight."

She felt it along with him, along with her own pleasure. He held himself still, seated deep inside her, relishing the feeling, the connection. Dara tightened her legs around him. Tristan's body dominated hers completely. He was twice as large, a hundred times stronger, and yet she felt powerful herself.

This wasn't just sex to either of them.
"You feel like..."

"Heaven?"
she supplied at the same time as he finished,

"Home."

Tristan's golden feline eyes glowed feral and intense when he lowered himself so close to her their lips nearly touched.

He held her gaze as he thrust steadily, deeply into her, as far as he could go. He rocked his hips against her, altered his angle slightly and kept moving in a steady rhythm. Dara's eyes became unfocused. Her nails trailed over his back again and he arched into the caress, silently demanding more.

Too much. Too close with her. But it felt. So. Good. He kissed her roughly to let her know exactly what she was doing to him.

"Mine now,"
he growled, both in her mind and against her lips and his words made her come again. Her body squeezed his cock like a fist, milking him, and this time he let himself go too, sharing in her pleasure in perfect harmony—her clenching heat drawing more and more pleasure out of him. It was far more intense than anything he'd ever experienced before, and it wouldn't let up, shuddering through both of 130

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them in endless cycles until his arms couldn't support him anymore and he lowered himself fully over her.

Dara welcomed him, tightening her arms around him to hold him even closer. Euphoria continued to hum through his body even after the last of the intense sensation faded away and, sharing her mind, he knew she felt the same.

The lights went out long after their bodies had cooled. Still entwined with her, still joined, Tristan was reluctant to move.

He nuzzled her shoulder where it met her neck, scattering nibbling kisses over the elegant length of her throat while she stroked his shoulders and back. It was deeply satisfying in its own right, just to be this close. Just to be touching her.

For this one moment of perfection, he would have gone through hell again, endured everything he had. If he'd known this would be what he would find, he'd have welcomed every nightmare,
thanked
the soldier for taking him from home.

Even in this place, even after everything, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity would listen for sending Dara to him.

His body replete and his senses buzzing, he rolled with her until she was draped on top of him. She raised her head off his chest to look at him and her heavy-lidded gaze and sleepy smile made him feel like a god. And when she kissed him in her sweet way...

Ah, God.
This was heaven.

Before he could do the smart thing and retreat to his own bunk, sleep claimed him and, with Dara in his arms, sighing softly, he had never been more content to let it.

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Blood Moons

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9th day of the 4th Blood Moon, 3028

Dara woke up cold, alone on her bunk. It was still dark.

Where had Tristan gone? Shivering, she drew the blanket tighter around herself and curled up in it. It was odd. After the day and night she'd had, Dara had thought she'd sleep well past the morning alarm. She was still tired, but her mind was awake. Why?

She sensed him, then, the guard named Blanc, and a chill passed through her. Fully awake, dreading another confrontation, Dara bit her lip to keep quiet and channeled her mind to listen.

He was far across the open space, two levels above her. A small relief. He was speaking to someone, whispering something about markers and payment. His mind was busily sorting through all kinds of things Dara had no wish to see.

There were deals, and deals
within
deals. Payments and debts—he'd double-crossed someone in the past. That was what the other guy now had on him. She frowned, trying to make sense of it. Both men were talking around the issue, without saying anything directly. It was confusing, and looking into their minds didn't help, either.

Trying to keep track of his thoughts and the conversation at the same time was impossible. She wanted to know what they were talking about more than what they were thinking, so she let that go for now. Not that she could block it out completely—she was hearing the conversation telepathically, 132