Mine to Take (25 page)

With that he released her and left as silently as he had come.

And while Jenise looked out across the water, trying to make the most important decision of her life, Gian Ren entered their chambers to decide whether or not he should wait to give her the most precious gift of all…

A gift he could only attempt to bestow once every ten years.

She weighed the pebble in her hand.

No matter how careful she had been, no matter how she had tried to withhold herself from him, it did not matter in the end.

He had captured her.

Jenise knew Gian’s nature; he could do no less. He had been honest with her about that.

She wanted back that part of herself that he had taken. She wanted him to have it forever. Gian Ren had seeped into her. He was in her heart, her mind, her soul.

He was the tidal wave and the lapping ripple. He had hunted her bit by bit, zealously guarding what he had seized until she dwelled completely inside him. Taken.

Then he simply offered her his heart.

How dangerous these Familiars were!

She squeezed her eyes shut even as she squeezed the stone in her palm.
She wanted that noble heart.
She wanted
him.
The significance of the Familiar exchange of breaths came home to her. To be whole together, to be alive in each other’s arms, to share the same breath…

To find an exalted peace.

She did not pretend to understand the mystical ways of the Familiars; or how they recognized their mates. But she had come to believe in their ability to do so…for he had shown her the meaning of this infinite love they shared, a love that was ever-changing and ever-growing.

A love that was untamed. Unbound.
Free.

She opened her palm and released the security of the stone.

She came to him as he knew she would.

He had prepared the chamber for them himself. First, he lit hundreds of scented tapers; their glow was soft and ambient like love that endures.

He removed all of his garments. Then he scattered
tasmin
blossoms in the pool along with fragrant oils, placing the aromatic vials next to the cushions and
krilli
cloths that spread across the floor and low bedding. The silken cloths
were in colors of purple and red, arranged in mysterious patterns, patterns designed to evoke the senses. To evoke her “taste.”

He scattered petals over the coverings, allowing their luscious scent to rise in the air, knowing the heat of their entwined bodies would soon release yet more of the fragrance.

He opened the doors to the balcony, letting in the muted tropical breeze, closing his eyes briefly as he listened to the sensual music of
lati
filaments as they hummed in the night wind.

His blood beat heavy in his veins, pulsing through him in an ancient, expectant rhythm.

The Incarnation was a mystical transformation to the Familiars. Their sensuality became a true physical expression of love. It was a journey of discovery and renewal, for body, heart, mind, and spirit.

The male gathered his Incarnations about him throughout his life, pivot points of remarkable change, growth, and if he was blessed, much more. His female would awaken him fully. She would become the catalyst for him to bring true power into passion.

He would share this with his Jenise.

He would give himself completely to her and, he hoped, she to him. He would surrender himself to her female energy. She would conquer him even as he took her. Her woman’s sensuality would release him and rebirth him.

He would become older and newer in the embrace of her love.

Gian placed a bowl of fruit on the woven rug, straightening to look at her as she entered the chamber. Their eyes met. Aqua to green/gold. Both knew what this meant.

He held out his hand to her.

She took it.

Slowly he walked behind her, lifting the fall of her hair to place his lips against her nape. He unclasped her caftan, watching it slide down her body.

Lifting her in his arms, he stepped into the pool with her.

His fathomless eyes reflected the room’s flames as he watched her, examining each of her features silently.

“What do I do, Gian?” she whispered.

He smiled slightly. “Incarnation is spontaneous and intimate. There are nine tiers; I will lead you through them to direct your energies.”

Her hand cupped his strong face. “Then I trust you to do so, my
taj.”

He sucked in his breath at the simple words that said so much. She had called him her king and in so doing had acknowledged not only who he was, but who he was to her.

He turned his face to place a scorching kiss in the center of her palm.

“I have not made my ultimate decision yet,” she said hoarsely.

“Yes, you have.”

He lowered her until she stood in front of him. Scooping up a handful of water, he watched the scented stream trickle over her full breasts. The gentle bubbling of the water in the pool soothed as it stimulated.

Jenise listened to the filaments chime, a light echoing sound which seemed to overlie the wondrous scent of
tasmin
and
krinang. Tasmin
from the floating blossoms,
krinang
from Gian. From outside, she could hear the jungle calls of animals.

“M’yan,” he whispered. “It speaks to us even now.” He ladled more soft water over her skin. “Once it is in your blood, it will never leave you, Creamcat.”

Like him.

Her lids fluttered closed at the heady sensations washing over her, not the least of which was his skimming touch. Barely there. Yet unmistakable.

She swayed in the water as he poured the scented liquid into her hair, infusing the strands with wet warmth.

Smoothly, he dipped into the water before her, tossing his hair back when his head broke the surface. His fingers clasped her waist under the surface, bringing her closer to him.

Once more he dipped under the water. Soon, she felt the lick of his tongue on the curved rim of her navel. A warm flick surrounded by the cooler, lapping water.

A small sound issued from her lips.

{Which laps you better…me or the water?}

His voice purred in her mind as she felt another hot lick further down between her legs. Her fingers clutched his shoulders.
Him or the water?
It was not even close.

He broke free of the surface and gazed up at her, droplets of water dancing on his thick black lashes, catching the flames in the room. He smiled slowly at her. Too sexual to be sweet, she knew.

He shook his head, flinging a spray of droplets on her and laughing in a low tone when she jumped back.

His arm snagged her around her waist, bringing her wet, heated body in contact with his. He dipped his head to brush her lips in a satin caress. Light touches of water. Light touches of Gian’s lips. Light touches of burning skin. All designed to tantalize and provoke.

She murmured something incoherent as she lightly nipped his chin.

He lifted her out of the water. Stood with her in the center of the pool, letting the fragrant water sheet off them before he carried her to the plump cushions on the floor. There he carefully placed her as if she were on an altar for him.

He blew on her body, the barest warm breeze, from her shoulders to her toes. His heated breath evaporated the clinging water droplets. Her skin tingled everywhere his breath touched.

“Gian—” She placed her palms against his upper chest, feeling the satin texture of his skin. “Hold me…” Gently, yet decidedly, he removed her hands from him, placing them by her sides. He did not want her touching him yet.

Taking a vial of
krinang
oil, he warmed it in his palms.

Pouring small amounts into his hands, he massaged the oil into her body with long, firm strokes. Everywhere his hands passed, her body rose to meet his touch. So he touched every part of her body with his moistened fingertips—from the curve of her lips to the curl of her foot.

The oil on her skin glistened in the light of the tiny flames. Gian’s eyes glistened as well, embers of Familiar desire that Jenise recognized.

He reached over to a bowl of
gharta
fruit, carefully slicing the spiny exterior until the pink flesh within was revealed.

“Close your eyes, Creamcat,” he murmured. Cutting a segment off, he took the succulent fruit and rubbed it along her lower lip, letting the juices trickle into her mouth.

“Mmmm…” She swallowed the sweet juice.

Gian leaned over her, his long hair brushing her breasts. Slowly, he licked the sticky-sweet residue from her lips. Jenise shivered.

He sat back on his haunches and as she opened her eyes, he placed one large palm on her heart, the other on her lower abdomen, feeling the rise and fall of her breath. He matched his breathing to hers.

Taking her hands, he placed one on his heart, the
other low on his abdomen. She could feel their breath. Syncopated.
Harmonized.

He watched her, observed her features, the tiniest nuances in her expression. His glance as potent as a touch.

Jenise knew what he was doing then. He was leading her into the Incarnation slowly, heightening all of her senses for him. Unfortunately, she did not possess as many senses as a Familiar woman. “I wish I had more to give you.”

“I embrace that which you offer, Jenise, for it is my intention to gift you with the identical experience enjoyed by Familiar women, utilizing only the five senses you possess.”

If she hadn’t already adored him, these words alone would have done it. And there was that beloved feline arrogance of his! Her lips twitched as she teased him. “You are very confident that you can.”

He shrugged disarmingly. “Of course. In fact, I am of the opinion that with my superior methods, your experience will surpass any other.” He gave her a sexy wink.

“Your best trait is your humbleness, Guardian of the Mist.”

He laughed, enjoying the sexual banter. He kissed her. A full, deep contact with his mouth. Then he sipped delicately at her upper lip, gently suckling on it.

And the bottom lip as well.

The tip of his tongue teased at the seam of her mouth, begging entrance. Jenise drew it inside, suckling on him. Gian held her close; he purred against her, stimulating her auditory sense as he rubbed and nuzzled, felinelike and playful.

In the same playful manner, he explored her with his mouth from head to toe—the soles of her feet, the rim of her navel, the crease behind her knee all knew the press of his velvet lips.

Their breathing became deeper.

He began the first tier of the ceremony by penetrating her deeply as she lay beneath him. He was dominant yet tender to her, the combination of his strength and sensitivity his true power. The depth of his strokes varied with the pace of his thrusts as he followed the ancient incremental pattern of eight shallow, one deep. Jenise was stunned by the highly stimulating movements.

He seamlessly brought her to the second tier. Seven thrusts shallow, two deep.

That was when he began to shift her position, as if performing the steps of an intricate, well-learned dance. In front of him. Over him. To the side of him.

By the time he reached the third tier, Jenise knew that the coming night would be more than she had imagined. The Incarnation picked up pace and rhythm, acquiring an almost trancelike quality. No matter how he tried to control his passion, with each tier, Gian was getting wilder.

He bit her shoulder and placed her under him so that she lay on her stomach. Sliding over her, he entered her from above and behind. “Raise your hips for me,” he purred coaxingly in her ear. When she did; he bit the back of her nape.

Then he showed her how to move her body; how to open her inner muscles for him. He became hissing cat and sensual man; purring feline and demanding lover.

He was still.

He moved.

He captured her warmth.

He showered her with undulant waves.

He surrendered himself to the passion that he unleashed in her. Wild. Free. He rode the crest of her waves, holding back and yet not holding back.

Jenise wrapped him to her, held him, loved him.

But most important, she let him be Familiar.

She did not shrink from his feral thrusts, his untamed responses, his wild passion cries.

By the time he reached the sixth tier, she could not catch her breath. When he had spoken of the Nine Hundred Strokes to Love she thought he had been speaking figuratively. Now she was not so sure. What if she could not go on?

His white teeth grazed her throat and she forgot everything but his flawless touch.

By the seventh tier, she knew she was his to take. In whatever way he wanted.

As she tried to regain her own pacing by turning over onto her back, he sat on his knees before her, raising her legs to his shoulders. He clasped her ankles firmly, nipping the undersides of her heels as he pulled her up onto his lap and penetrated her fully. She cried out at the exquisite sensation.

Then screamed at the vibrational enhancement that followed.

“Gian! Gian, please!” she begged him.

He lightened his touch then, hearing her in his passion haze.

The palm of his hand came down flat on her feminine core even as he moved within her. He nudged the heel of his hand in on her and pressed sharply, sending her over the edge. As he had countless times already since he had started.

However, at this stage, the rapid vibrations of her release were a danger to him. During Incarnation, it was crucial that the male not achieve his own release until he reached the ninth level.

Growling something indecipherable, he placed her fingertip firmly beneath his manhood. “Press,” he commanded.

Shocked, she stared mutely at him.

{It will allow me to experience the pleasure without release,
taja.} She did as he asked. He threw back his mane of hair and groaned long and low in his throat.

Withdrawing from her and placing his hand beneath her hips, he raised her to him. Then he loved her with his mouth. Jenise began sobbing. It was too much!

Gian was trying desperately to hold back, but he was in the grips of a ritualistic feral mating. He changed their positions. Lying on his side while enjoined to her, he tried to stop for a moment—an unheard-of thing for a Familiar man to do in the midst of Incarnation.