Chapter 16

C ole's jaw was set, his eyes hard, and the corner of his mouth flickered, the only physical betrayal of his tension. His blond hair looked almost bleached bone white, a match to the shadowy aura that hung around him, a cloud of smoke, fury made tangible. He didn't so much as glance at Ember, but she still had the urge to cut and run back to her room as fast as she could. The only relief she felt was that his temper wasn't directed at her. Ashe was the sole recipient of his anger.

"She is mine." His voice was deathly calm. "Mine."

As apprehensive as she was, Ember shot him a frown at that. She wasn't anyone's. No one owned her. She was about to open her mouth and refute him, but she held back. He had rescued her from Bruno after all—sort of. And he had given her that gorgeous room and the beautiful clothes, and the gold necklace around her neck. But it wasn't just that which made her hold her tongue. There was a warning glint in Ashe's eye that told her it might not be the best idea if she interrupted Cole while he was in this mood.

"Forgive me, Cousin," Ashe said, lightly. "She was lost."

"You were both lost. Together."

Ashe swept Cole a sarcastic bow. "If it bothers you, then I shall go and get lost by myself."

He turned to Ember and took her fingers, placing a light kiss on the back of her hand. She could feel his lips smiling as he did so. He was enjoying this. She snatched her hand away as soon as he'd released it, resisting the urge to wipe it on her skirts.

He strode off between the trees, a mocking, "See you later," drifting back to them.

Ember dug her toe into the soft earth, finally working up enough courage to look at Cole. To her surprised relief, the anger had left his face, the shadowy aura chased away as if the sun had come out on a cloudy day. He looked contrite, almost sorrowful.

"I'm sorry, Ember," he said. "I was a poor host. I should have taken better care of you. I didn't realise you wanted to leave and I'm sorry you ended up in such vile company."

"Oh …" Ember said, eager to make things right between them. "No, it was fine. And you were busy. I was just tired, and I didn't want to disturb you. It was a little overwhelming, all the dancing and music and everything."

He came to her and took her hands, looking deep into her eyes. "And you were worried about dancing with me in front of Lissa?"

"She told me you two had an understanding," Ember said. "I don't want to make things awkward."

"Lissa is possessive. But no one tells me what to do." And then he added, half under his breath, "Look what happened to Serafina."

Before she could ask what he meant, he slipped an arm around her waist, pulled her to him, and the thought slid out of her mind. There was no hesitation before kissing her this time, no unspoken request for permission. His mouth ground down on hers, stealing her breath, making her knees weaken, and she closed her eyes as the world swam around her. There was nothing else but his kiss, nothing but the loosening of her muscles, the heat building within her, the stirring of something dark and delicious. She wound her arms around his neck and gave herself up to him, her tongue exploring his mouth, pressing herself against him, and feeling the hard response of his body in return.

There came a feeling like wind rushing past, and when she opened her eyes again, she was somewhere else. The forest had disappeared. Cole released her, and she staggered, overcome by both the power of her physical arousal and the displacement of time and space.

Trying to regain her senses, she blurted, "where are we?" although it was fairly obvious where they were. This had to be Cole's personal sanctuary. Tones of rich cream and gold were dominant, with a fire crackling in an enormous fireplace and candles lighting dark corners. A mirror stood in one corner showing, not the reflection of the room, but a cityscape by night. The view looked familiar, but she couldn't think what it was for the moment.

Against one wall was a huge four-poster bed, warm with a thick covering of white fur, gauzy curtains pulled back against the posts with golden tasselled cords. A table by the bed had wine chilling in an ice bucket and two glasses, and a bowl of fruits and sweets. Soft music filled the air, not romantic and sweet, but a dark and seductive beat that made her want to raise her arms and gyrate her hips, as though she was out in some nightclub somewhere, drunk and high, and blissfully uncaring.

"This is my room," he said.

She gave a nervous laugh. "I guessed."

He came to her again and kissed her, a kiss that was initially gentle, and then, in quick response to her eager arousal, hard and demanding. He slid his hands up her waist and gently tugged at the narrow ribbons holding the bodice of her dress together. The ribbons loosened, and the bodice parted, exposing her breasts encased in a pink lace bra. He kissed the tops of her breasts, cupping them together, and then suckled at her peaked nipples through the lace.

He kissed her mouth again, and his arms tightened around her, pulling her into him so that she could feel his hot arousal. His hand slipped down, and he touched her between her legs, stroking her through her dress. She moaned against his mouth. There was too much fabric in the way. She wanted his hands and tongue against her bare flesh; she wanted him to taste her.

"Please, stop …" she tore herself from his embrace and moved back, her breathing as fast as if she'd been running. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her thoughts muddied.

His eyes glittered, but he made no move to stop her. It was the calm acceptance of her rejection, that her refusal didn't anger him, that made her carry on.

She lifted trembling hands to the front clasp of her bra, snapping the catch and letting her breasts bounce free. He watched, silent, his face betraying nothing. She shimmied her bra off her shoulders, and then tugged at the waist of her dress until it fell in a glimmering pile at her feet. Lifting her arms, she pulled at the pins holding up her hair, and shook her head, so that her hair tumbled down her back in a wavy river of black. Clad in nothing but a pair of pink lace briefs, she stepped slowly toward him, pressed her body against his, and kissed him.

Quicker than thought, his arm was about her waist, and he had lifted her, propelling her to the bed. His mouth fused to hers, his hands fisted in her hair. She moaned and pushed up, arching her back. He bent his head, claiming her naked breasts, squeezing them with his hands, licking and sucking her nipples until they were hot and aching.

The fur underneath her was soft and caressing, and his body over hers, hard and unyielding. The scent of him was all-encompassing, intoxicating. She couldn't think, she could only feel his hands and mouth exploring her: biting, pinching, stroking, caressing.

He slid further down the bed, nuzzling at her wet heat, and she yanked the sopping lace down so that he could get to her properly. He lapped at her with long, leisurely strokes, and she could feel her muscles clenching convulsively, desperate for a quick release.

He didn't give it to her though, and she almost cried out with disappointment as he moved away from her, the building fire within her suddenly doused.

"Ember." His voice was ragged, and she could see that he was just as aroused as she, perhaps even more so. His pupils had dilated so much that the green was just a thin circle, and his pulse was jerking in his throat. He was naked—although how he had removed his clothing without her noticing, she hadn't the faintest—and his cock was rigid, impressively so. She wanted it. She wanted him.

"I need this," he groaned, and she thought perhaps she had misheard him, that he meant to say, "I need you," and eager to please, she reached for him, opening her legs, guiding him to her.

He rested there for a moment, and she squirmed, the hot tip of him nudging at her. Her muscles clenched again uncontrollably, an unbearable tension rising within her.

"Do it," she begged, and with a groan, he drove into her, burying himself to the hilt.

She came almost at once, and when she did, he gasped, as though he had felt the same explosion of stars as she had. A cloud of mist roiled about them, and dazed, she wondered if their passion had transported them skyward and they were somehow having sex in the clouds.

He switched position, lifting her legs over his shoulders, pulling out to the head, and then diving in deep again. She gasped as new sensations overwhelmed her, the delicious friction building faster than she'd ever thought was possible for her, and within a few strokes, she came again.

Her orgasm made his eyes flutter closed, and he groaned. The mist flickered with a blaze of light, as though lightning in a storm. He brought a hand down to rub her clit and thrust again, and again, fast and deep. She was thrashing, crying out his name. His fingers were relentless, dragging her to the edge again, and as she shattered, he came too, his release a wild cry mingling with hers.

His weight came down on her as he collapsed. He was trembling, his skin heated as though he had a fever, the mist slowly dissipating. With an effort, he rolled away from her, and she gave a tiny mew of disappointment, too satiated and languid to give voice to a complaint. He gave a low chuckle and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"You're on my side, aren't you?" he murmured. "I need you here with me, supporting me."

"Of course," Ember said, drowsily. The fire in the fireplace was warm, comforting, the fur on the bed pliant and soft against her tender skin.

He said something else, but she couldn't hear him clearly. The dark was claiming her now, and she slept.