Chapter 27

27

D on't look back, put on my shoes in the car. Run like hell.

She did. Straight to the extensive garage, searching for keys to the many cars, finding nothing. Frustration welled.

But then words were whispered in her head, like silk fluttering down.

—Run.—

She was trying to! No keys. She sprinted back and scanned the grounds for a work truck, a freaking tractor at this point.

She stilled and frowned, feeling warmth from above. As if in a trance, she lifted her face to it. The full moon. Rising tonight.

She felt the light. Like she'd always imagined people did with the sun.

Her hearing was sensitive; things called to her from the forest beyond. She'd avoided that dark place in all her exploring. The sight of it had defeated even her newfound sense of courage.

—Run there.—

She had to fight the urge to sprint headlong into the abysmal-looking forest. Lachlain would catch her there—he was a hunter, a tracker. That's what he did. She had no chance of escaping .

Still her body twitched from the battle, as if she missed running within the forest, though she'd never been. Was she going mad even to think of this?

—Run!—

With a cry, she dropped her shoes and obeyed, fleeing the castle and a soon-to-wake, irate Lykae. She plunged into the woods and realized she could see. Her already strong night vision was perfected.

But why was she seeing? Did his blood affect her so much? She'd taken a lot.

She smelled the forest floor, the moist earth, the moss. She even smelled rocks wet with dew. Dizzying. She might have swayed, but her feet fell perfectly, as if she'd run this way a thousand times.

The scents, the sound of her breaths and her heart beating, the air rushing over her... heaven. This was like heaven.

Then she became aware of something new. The running was an aphrodisiac, with every footfall vibrating up her body like a long stroke.

His bellow of rage echoed from miles away, seeming to shake the whole black world around her. As he crashed after her, she felt the need for release. Not fear of what he would do to her when he caught her, but anticipation. She could hear his heart pounding furiously as he neared. Even when weakened, he ran headlong for her.

He would chase her forever.

She knew this as if he'd spoken it in her mind. He would claim her and never let her go. That was what his kind did.

You're his kind now, her mind whispered. No! She wouldn't give in .

A Lykae mate would've let herself be caught. Would be waiting for him, naked and spread in the grass or leaning back against a tree, hips offered up and arms overhead. A Lykae mate would revel in the fact that he was chasing her, anticipating his ferocity.

Emma was going insane! How could she know these things? She would never welcome ferocity. Give a cry early, at the first sign of pain. That was her rule.

She'd just reached a clearing when she heard him lunge for her. She tensed for the impact with the ground, but he turned and took it on his back, then moved her bodily to lie in the grass. When she opened her eyes, he was above her, on all fours.

He was larger. His eyes weren't their golden color. That eerie blue flickered across them. His exhaled breaths were rumbling growls. His body was weakened, she had felt how much so when he ran, but his intent made him strong.

"Turn... over," he bit out. His voice was distorted.

Lightning streaked the sky above him. He didn't seem to notice, but she stared at it like one might a comet. Could she be more Valkyrie than she knew?

Sane Emma told him, "No."

The lightning illuminated in flashes what he was inside. Fangs of his own, the ice-blue eyes, his already incredibly powerful body rippling with more muscle.

He yanked her bag and jacket from her. Snarling, he sliced open her clothes to strip her, while she beheld the lights above in a daze.

"Arms . . . over . . . your head," he grated, tearing his jeans from himself.

She did this. He positioned himself over her, bending down to kiss or lick, moving a hand or a knee. Something was happening that she didn't understand. This wasn't just random movement, this was...

—Ritual.—

As he moved above her, the urge to go to her hands and knees grew overwhelming. To brush her hair aside and present her neck.

He dragged a tongue across her nipple and her back arched. "Turn... over."

As if someone else were in her body, someone carnal and aggressive, she did as he commanded.

Movements behind her. His huge erection slid over her backside, then prodded her thigh.

Smell the night, feel the growing moon bathe your skin. She was going insane... knew it when she pressed her chest down into the grass, arms in front of her, and raised her ass. He growled and kicked her knees open with his own. She grew wetter though he wasn't touching her.

She ached. She felt empty. She knew she could feel the scents of the earth if he would just enter her. She rocked back to attract him.

"Doona do that," he hissed. His hand landed on her backside, then clutched, holding her in place.

She moaned, her eyes rolling back in her head.

"With the moon... I canna... be as I should. If you knew what I was thinking right now."

She spread her knees wider, though a beast was at her back about to go mad from the moon, with a shaft that could rend her in two. She should be curled in a ball. Not rocking forward and back.

"Ye've no need for that. Ever. Can barely . . . keep from . . . "

She felt him moving, then... his mouth was on her sex. She cried out with shock and pleasure. He was lying on his back with her knees spread over his face. His arms wrapped around her torso, hugging her down. She couldn't escape if she tried.

He groaned against her, arms tightening even more. "Dreamed of tasting you again," he growled. "Almost as much as fucking you."

Her claws dug into the grass, and the cut blades erupted in scent. He suckled her, and she screamed. Lightning split the sky like a whip. She couldn't move, couldn't rock her hips to his mouth like she needed to. She didn't feel the ground abrading her knees as she knew it must. Going insane.

"Oh, gods, Lachlain, please."

He drew his tongue from her, penetrating her wetness with his finger. "Please what?"

She was panting, near mindless. "Please make me for once... please let me have—"

"Come," he commanded, with a slap on her ass and a thrust of his finger as he licked.

She screamed. Her body clenched, shuddering her through her first orgasm. Making her accept the explosion of pleasure, he roughly palmed her cheeks, shoving her sex against his mouth to lick it relentlessly.

And all the while she watched the sky as she moved the only way she could, by arching her back, until she could take no more.

When she fell limp with a whimper, stunned by the pleasure she'd never known, he eased her to the ground and stood. Trembling, she gazed up at him, silhouetted against the lightning. He was like a god. He awaited something .

Ritual. She went to her knees before him. Gazing up, she drew him into her mouth as best as she was able, adoring his flesh with her tongue as she should've done before.

He cupped her face with shaking hands, groaning. His expression was one of ecstasy mingled with disbelief as he watched her. She scratched down his torso, nails digging into his flesh, and he shuddered. She could taste him, salty and slick at the tip.

"Canna do this . . . need to claim you. Here. It will be here. . . ."

She resisted him taking his shaft from her mouth, licking her lips for it even as he moved behind her, kneeling between her legs. He bent down, tonguing her again while trying to fit two fingers inside her.

When he was able, he released her, then his whole hand was on her head guiding her down onto her hands.

She looked back, saw him holding his erection, about to put it inside her. She began shaking in earnest, yearning.

Need. Attract. She pressed back, but he held her still, spreading her flesh and placing the tip against her. A hand roughly ran down her back, making her arch down with pleasure.

"No' a dream," he murmured in a stunned tone. "Emmaline..."

She was panting, repeating "please" again and again.

He put one arm around her waist. "Waited so long to be inside you." He ran his other arm under her and clenched her shoulder from underneath, holding her body immobile. "I claim you for my own." He plunged into her.

She screamed again—in pain.

"Ah, gods," he groaned. "So tight," he bit out with another buck of his hips. She was so clenched around him he could scarcely move.

She gasped, her eyes watering from the searing pain. She'd known they wouldn't fit.

To her relief, he stopped thrusting. How did he resist the need? His body shook all around hers, his shaft so huge and throbbing within her.

He drew her up as he went to his knees, putting her back against his chest. He took her arms to guide them up around his neck, locking them there. "Hold on tae me."

When she nodded, he skimmed his fingers from her shoulders over her breasts and down, then dipped both of his hands to cup and stroke her between her legs.

Though her wetness returned, he refrained from thrusting. Instead he thumbed her nipples and palmed her breasts for long, long moments. Soon, she was panting again, feeling a desperate lust like she had when he'd teased her that night in the bathroom. No, worse than that, because now she knew exactly what she was missing.

Remembering her frustration and fearing he'd subject her to that again, she wriggled her hips against him.

He growled low at her ear, "Do you want more?"

"Y-yes."

"Go tae your hands again... let me give it tae you."

As she did, he clutched her hips. He slowly withdrew, then eased deeper within her. She cried out with pleasure. When she arched her back and worked her knees wide again, he groaned her name, but his voice had changed. Still as deep but guttural. Almost... snarling.

Another thrust inside her, more forceful. Groans, growling. Hers as well?

Thoughts grew dim as the pleasure increased. Each measured withdrawal made her whimper; each time his skin slapped against hers as he bucked made her cry out for more.

Her lips curled when the air charged with electricity, and she gloried in the sky, in the scents, in Lachlain wedged deep inside her. He stretched down over her back, and she felt his mouth on her neck. Felt his bite, but not like hers, not piercing the skin. She reveled in it as if she'd accomplished it.

"Going tae come so hard," he snarled against her skin, "you'll feel it like a thrust of my cock."

That sent her over the edge, and she climaxed once more. Screaming in ecstasy to the sky, she threw her head back to his shoulder, wanting his mouth at her neck.

He yelled, "Ah, gods, yes!" He returned to his bite as he began to come.

She did feel him ejaculate, forcefully, pumping his seed so hotly inside her again and again and again.

Yet when he was finished, he didn't stop.

***

He'd come harder than he ever had, but felt no relief. The need only intensified. "I canna stop."

He tossed her to her back, pinning her hands above her, still driving into her. Her hair fanned out, haloing her head, and the scent of it exploded within him. He swayed from the power of it.

He was claiming her. At last. He was inside his mate. Emmaline . He gazed down at her face. Her eyelids were shuttered, her lips glistening. So beautiful it pained him.

The moon, completely risen now, cast silver over her body as she writhed beneath him.

Any control he'd had was disappearing, an animal feeling of dominance taking its place .

—Possession. Claim.—

He could feel the moon on his skin as he never had before. His thoughts came frenzied, ungovernable.

She'd run from him. She'd thought to leave him. Never.

Control slipping. Christ, no, he was . . . turning.

His fangs sharpened. To mark her flesh. His claws grew. To seize her hips when he spent into her body over and over.

—Possess her completely.—

She was his. He'd found her. He deserved her. Deserved to have everything he was about to take from her.

Plunging into her soft, giving body with the moon at his back. Pleasure as he'd never known.

—Make her surrender everything.—

Licking, biting, suckling her, slaking his lust on his mate. Unable to tamp down yells, growls, his need to taste her wet flesh. Too rough with her. Needed to fuck her harder. Couldn't stop driving into her.

With the last of his will, he shoved himself away from her.

Her claws rent the ground in frustration, her hips undulating for him. "Why?" she cried.

"Canna hurt you." His voice was not his own.

"Please come back inside me."

"You want this? Like I am?"

"Yes... need you... exactly as you are. Please, Lachlain! I feel it too." The moon had claimed her?

He gave himself over to it. His vision went hazy, seeing only the silver of her eyes as they stared up into his and the attracting deep pink of her plump lips and nipples. He stalked over her, caging her in with his body. He leaned his head down to tongue and suck her nipples, then take her mouth. He clutched her from beneath, holding her in place as he rose up on his knees. "Mine," he growled with a brutal thrust.

As though out of his body, he heard the guttural sounds ripped from his chest, the snarls that accompanied each frenzied thrust. Her breasts bounced, and his eyes were riveted by the tight, hard points, wet from his furious suckling. Her claws dug into his skin as the pressure in his cock built and built. Her head thrashed.

"Mine!" She thought to leave him? He fucked her with all his strength.

She accepted it, trying to meet him.

He cupped the back of her neck, yanking her up to him. "Surrender to me."

Her eyes flashed open when she came again. Dazed. Mirrors. He could feel her squeezing around his cock, milking him.

He followed, yelling out. His seed shot from him, filling her... hot... relentless. All he comprehended was that she arched her back and spread her legs wider for him—as though she loved the feeling of it.

***

At moonset, when Emma could come no more, she fell limp. With a last shuddering groan he laid atop her, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

Finally he planted a knee and rose, turning her to face him. He lay on his side and brushed her hair from her lip.

Now that the night's frenzy had passed, she felt an overwhelming joy that he'd claimed her, as if she'd waited as long as he had. She stretched, gazing up at the sky.

The grass was cool beneath her and the air as well, but she was burning hot. She felt connected to everything, as though she belonged, a feeling that had always eluded her.

Her eyes couldn't stray from him for long. She turned to stare up at his face once more. Contentment surged through her, and she nearly wept with relief that he'd caught her and still wanted her. She couldn't stop touching him, as if she feared he would disappear. How could she possibly have acted cruelly toward him?

She recalled that she'd been angry with him and had run, but couldn't quite recall why. She could never stay angry with a man who looked at her like this.

He stared at her as though awed.

"I dinna want to hurt you. I tried no' to."

"It was fleeting. I tried not to hurt you, either."

He grinned, then asked, "Did you hear something inside you? You knew things...."

She nodded. "It was like instinct, but instinct I was clearly aware of. It scared me at first."

"And then?"

"I came to understand it was, I don't know how to put it, but it was guiding me... rightly."

"How did the moon feel on your skin?"

"Almost as good as it felt to run. It was like heaven. Lachlain, I felt scents."

His body was shaking, and he sank back, pulling her over him to lie on his chest, straddling his hips. "Sleep." His lids were heavy as he kissed her. "Tired from sating my young mate. And from your trick."

Now she remembered the night before, and stiffened. "I only retaliated against yours." If he took her to task—

"Aye. I like that you give as you get." His voice was drowsy as he said against her hair, "You are teaching me, Emmaline."

At that, the outrage she'd wanted to feel at his actions—or felt she should feel like other, stronger women would—deflated to nonexistence. After one mere cataclysmic night in the grass, her first through fifteenth orgasms, and a couple of awed looks, she was tempted to latch on to this strong, bighearted Lykae with two hands and fangs and never let go.

As if reading her mind, he murmured, "Need to sleep. But when I get my strength back, I'll be able to give you this"—he thrust into her, still semihard—"and all the blood you can drink."

Her flesh spasmed around him at the thought.

He grinned. "Every night. I promise you." He kissed her forehead. "Rest for a while."

"But the sun will be up soon."

"I'll have you in our bed well before then."

Her body was warm and relaxed under his hands, but her mind was in a panic. Yes, she wanted to rest in an open field on top of him near the earth they'd torn apart during hours of sex. But an open field—like a parking lot or a football field or, gods forbid, a plain—was a death trap. Sleeping under the stars? Avoid at all costs. She craved cover, thick canopy, a cave or some way to get lower in the earth, farther from the sun.

Still the pull to remain here was strong, conflicting with her need for self-preservation. The Lykae Instinct he'd given her was beautiful, compelling, but there was one problem.

She was a vampire.

He rolled over in sleep, tucking her into his side. He put his knee over her to pull her close and then crooked his arm around her head. Protectively. All around her. Better. Maybe just surrender.

"Mine," he growled softly. "Missed you."

Yes. Apparently she'd missed him, too.

Surrender. Trust him. Her eyelids drifted closed. Her last thought was, Never knew day. Or night....