Bound Guardian Angel (56 page)

“Digon?”

A quiet tap on his door brought his gaze
around.

Rule cautiously stepped into his office.

“Yes, what is it?”

Rule’s gaze traveled to Micah’s application.
His shoulders lifted proudly. “What do you want me to tell
him?”

Digon regarded the application then met the
gaze of his closest confidante. No, Rule was more than that. He was
family. Just like Sonia, who eased open the door and joined them a
moment later, her red hair falling past her shoulders in waves.
Eyes so like her father’s expectantly met his and held. She and
Rule were a testament to how much he’d grown since single-handedly
lining up the greatest tragedy vampires and drecks had ever
endured. He had succeeded with Rule and Sonia where he had failed
before, and now the three of them faced the toughest test they
would ever come up against.

Turning back toward the window, Digon
breathed in the smell of freedom.

“Invite him. Tonight. I want him here
tonight.” He paused, and a faint smile touched his lips. “The time
has come, my friends.” He looked over his shoulder at them. “Time
for us to step out from the shadows.”

He could feel the hope and excitement bubble
around them.

He returned to his desk and pushed Micah’s
application toward Rule. “Soon I will talk to King Bain. He needs
to know about Micah, as well.”

Rule rolled the application into a paper
tube and held it in his loose fist. “What if he already does? After
all, he is the king.”

Digon arched an eyebrow at Rule. “Then we’ll
have a lot to talk about, now won’t we?”

The time of Digon was at an end. It was time
for his true self to reenter society.

Time for Argon to rise again.

Chapter 33

Trace lay on his left side, facing Cordray, his head
resting on his arm. She was on her back, arms stretched under the
black, satin-covered pillow above her head. Her face was turned
toward his.

Their gazes met in silent acceptance. It was
as if they were locked inside a magical bubble, and Trace never
wanted to leave. He wanted to stay right here, tucked away with
her, where he could continue to discover every inch of
her—everything she was—for the rest of his life.

No words could describe how he felt. Cordray
was his other half, and now, with her lying quietly beside him, her
eyes staring into his with the same sense of wonder he was feeling,
he marveled for what felt like the tenth time that his search was
finally over.

His gaze drifted to her bare breasts then to
her flat stomach and the colorful dragon tattoo that wrapped around
her torso. The dragon held a thorny rose in its claw. He understood
the symbolism. The rose was considered the perfect flower.
Beautiful in its perfection. But even perfection can cause pain.
Get too close or hold on too tightly, and the thorns will prick you
and draw blood.

With the fingertips of his right hand, he
lightly traced a line up the subtle, shallow ridge that separated
the two halves of her stomach. The firm muscles on either side
quivered as a broken groan trembled from her throat, and he glanced
up in time to see her eyes roll back as her eyelids fluttered
closed.

She was so damn responsive. She mewled under
his touch, submitting herself to him in a way that was fascinating
to witness. Not only because—for once—he wasn’t the one in
submission, but because she wasn’t normally so compliant. He was
used to her sassy mouth and her feisty demeanor, but he liked this
softer, milder Cordray. He liked touching her. Liked the way she
responded.

Grinning almost proudly, he skimmed his palm
up and around the orb of her left breast. He loved how the soft
fullness gave and shifted against his hand. How her flesh molded to
his gentle grip when he squeezed. What he loved even more was how
Cordray moaned as she arched, pushing her breast more fully into
his grasp.

He tickled his way to her right breast as
she sank back against the mattress on a sigh. Using the tip of his
index finger, he swirled circles around her rosy nipple. The center
tightened, formed a soft nub, and then hardened as he continued
coaxing it. What looked like gooseflesh prickled the areola.

Euphoria shone from her face. Erotic sighs
drifted from between parted lips, and her thick black lashes framed
hungry eyes as she met his gaze again. Her chest rose and fell
heavily, and her legs scissored at the foot of the bed as she
squirmed.

She was so fucking goddamn gorgeous.

With a hunger growing within his chest, he
pinched her nipple between his thumb and index finger, and then
watched in fascination as her body stiffened then fell into
shudders as a ragged, choppy moan shivered from her throat. Her
stomach muscles trembled, and her thighs pressed together and
quivered violently as her hand shot between her legs and clamped
down.

He smiled and shifted closer, releasing her
nipple. “Did you just come again?”

A ripple raced through her body as she
rolled toward him.

“Did you?” His arm wound around her and
pulled her on top of him as he rolled to his back. Her hair spilled
over his face, his chest, his shoulders. It was thick and soft.
Heavenly.

Cordray’s body continued to quake as her
hips rocked against his cock, but she nodded as she licked her lips
then laid her cheek on his chest. “Yes.” She drew in a deep breath,
blew it out, and relaxed against him.

How many times had Cordray come since they’d
started their marathon in the hall? She seemed to have a
never-ending supply of orgasms inside her. Every five or ten
minutes, her body released another one, even when Trace wasn’t
trying to give her one. And how about that? For once, he was giving
an orgasm to a female. Willingly. Of his own desire. Not because he
had been beaten to do so. Not because he wanted to take advantage
of a rare moment of peace from his beast. But because he was fully
in the moment, lucid, and wanted to give pleasure for pleasure’s
sake.

“Sam told me you couldn’t feel,” he said
quietly, playing with her hair, “but that you can feel me. Is that
true?”

She sank more fully against him, almost as
if her body were part of his. “Yes.”

No wonder she couldn’t stop coming. Her body
had been starved of physical sensation and now had been presented a
smorgasbord. It was feasting, and rightfully so.

He brushed his lips over her hair, truly
content for the first time in his life. “I’m glad,” he
whispered.

His gaze remained on the ceiling, but every
cell in his body was fully aware of the extraordinary female lying
on top of him.

He didn’t need to look at her to see her. He
could feel her heart beating against his rib cage, hear the
calmness of her thoughts in the way she breathed and pressed her
cheek a little more firmly against his chest, taste her essence on
the air and against his tongue, and smell the fragrance of her very
soul as she infiltrated every molecule of his being. Looking at her
with his eyes and taking in her magnificent beauty was simply the
icing on the cake.

“Me, too,” she said. “I can feel every part
of you.” As if to punctuate the point, she rubbed her cheek against
his skin and caressed her palm down his arm, leaving a fiery trail
in its wake. “For so long, I couldn’t feel a thing, but when you
touch me, I feel it.”

“How?”

She lifted her head and looked at him as he
brought his gaze down from the ceiling to hers. “I don’t know.” She
shook her head in dismay. “All I know is that for the first time in
a long time, I can feel something other than a vast, empty void.
But only with you. No one else.”

“So . . .” He licked his lips
and gave her a playful smirk. “You’re saying I’m special.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh God, you’re going
to make this a thing, aren’t you?”

“You can’t admit it, can you?” He grinned.
“Come on. Say it. Say, ‘Trace, you’re one of a kind. You’re
special.’”

She bit back a smile. “You are. You’re going
to make this into a thing. Does everything have to be a competition
with you?” A coquettish twinkle shone from her eyes, making it
clear she hoped he would never change.

Trace chuckled. “If you don’t say it, I
win.”

She flashed him a playfully dubious look.
“You’re special all right.” She quickly leaned forward and nipped
his bottom lip then started to push herself off.

Trace grabbed her around the waist. “Where
are you going?”

“Can a girl pee?” She fought him off with a
gentle smack on the cheek, which of course got his blood pumping
even more than it already was. He liked when she smacked him
around.

He let her go. “Hurry back. I’m not done
with you.” He watched her disappear into the bathroom then lay back
on the bed, arms out to his sides, legs straight and open, cock
hard against his stomach.

The smile on his face said it all. This had
been the best night
ever
!

Visions of a teenage human virgin in his
parents’ basement, on a lumpy couch, fumbling with the clasp of his
girlfriend’s bra came to mind. No matter how shitty the
surroundings, or how clumsy his fingers, or how he didn’t know a
damn thing about what in the hell he was doing took away from the
fact that first-time sex was the best sex in the whole damn world.
The kind of sex a guy never forgot.

Did it matter if it only lasted sixty
seconds? Did it matter that he’d never properly held a female’s
breasts before? Or that he had no experience taking off a female’s
clothes?

Hell no. All that mattered was how damn good
it felt, and that all he wanted was to do it for the next two weeks
without stopping.

The bathroom door opened, and Cordray
appeared, smiling at him like she was as happy as he was. Then she
pulled up and frowned at the floor.

“What is it?” He propped himself on his
elbow.

She bent down and picked something up. When
she stood and held up her hand, she was holding a small, black
button.

She set it on her nightstand and shimmied
onto the bed. “Looks like I’ll have to find out which pair of pants
that came off of and sew it back on. Sometimes I feel like all I do
is mend my clothes.”

He lay back and moved his arm so she could
lie down next to him on her stomach. She propped herself on her
elbows.

“What’s that cheesy grin for?” she said,
snuggling closer.

He reached around with his other hand and
brushed back her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I’ve never felt
this way before.” He glanced down at her full lips. “I’ve never
experienced anything like this.”

It was an admission of vulnerability, but
for the first time aside from Micah and Sam, he felt complete trust
in someone. He instinctively knew that his heart and soul were safe
with Cordray. He could open himself and show her his weakness, and
she wouldn’t abuse his trust.

Was this how it would always be with her?
Was everything going to feel this safe from now on? After centuries
of fear, loneliness, and despair, had he finally found the one
person who could give him peace? Total, undeniable, blessedly
granted peace in every way possible?

She smiled and nestled a little closer.
“Neither have I.” She bowed her head and kissed his shoulder. “I
thought I had once, but . . .” She took a breath and
looked deep into his eyes. “Never like this. It was never like
this.”

He searched her eyes. He was lost, yet
found. Bewildered by how enraptured he was. “I don’t know what to
do. What you expect. What
I
expect . . .”

Biting her bottom lip, Cordray smiled like a
shy but thrilled little girl. “Neither do I, but isn’t that part of
what makes this so exciting?”

Trace rolled toward her and settled his palm
on the small of her back. Her perfect, round
derriere
was an
inviting, curved bounty of flesh. “All I know right now is that I
can’t stop”—he ran his palm down one cheek—“touching you.”
Everything about Cordray drew him in. He never thought he’d like
the smell of anything more than he liked the scent of lilacs, but
Cordray’s citrusy scent intoxicated him even more. Being with her
was like walking through an orange grove in full blossom.

She sighed and sank into the mattress,
letting her head drift downward as his hand explored first one full
handful of flesh, and then the other. His fingertips ventured
gently into the sexy crease that divided her bottom, and his heart
skipped at her moan of approval and the way she parted her legs as
his fingers slid lower and found her labia.

She was wet. He had never felt a woman’s
arousal like this before. Always, he had been bound, at the whim of
his mistress, never able to indulge and enjoy. Now, like the
proverbial kid in a candy store, he took advantage of his freedom,
sliding his finger curiously up and down the slick opening between
her legs, enthralled that he had done this to her.

Quiet, heated murmurs touched his ears, and
he glanced at her face to find she had closed her eyes. The sounds
emanating from between her luscious lips sounded both plaintive and
surrendering, as if she were begging him and giving in to him all
at once.

“You like this?” Did his inexperienced
caresses on her most private, intimate flesh really turn her on? He
felt more like a fumbling fool than a master of seduction.

She nodded and mumbled something he couldn’t
understand against the back of her hand, but which sounded like a
plea for more.

His dick had been hard for the better part
of the last four hours, but he’d been too enchanted with
her—touching her, watching her, feeling her, listening to her—to do
anything about his own needs. Right now, all he wanted was to
memorize every inch of her skin, every curve, every dip and
groove.

“Turn over for me,” he said.