Rion (33 page)

The love gleaming in his eyes proved without doubt that he loved her. She felt the warmth down to her soul.

Rion was counting on her. He needed her. And she wouldn’t fail him.

Freeing her arms, she threw away her caution. She ignored the gunshots outside.

Yanking his head down to hers, she nibbled his lip. “Make love to me, Rion.”

He peeled off her clothes, and she helped him out of his. At first her nudity made her feel unusually vulnerable. She reminded
herself his men outside wouldn’t invade their privacy and the Unari didn’t know they were here.

Still, when Rion’s teeth closed on one nipple, her body didn’t respond. She was cold. Naked. In enemy territory. If he noticed
her shivering in the chilly air instead of responding fully to his attentions, he didn’t mention it.

He simply closed his hands over her breasts and teased her nipple between his teeth. But she was nervous and upset. Thinking
that he meant to do a partial dragonshape had her shaking.

What was wrong with her?

The man had said he loved her. They were both naked. He was holding her, touching her. He was the great guy she’d always wanted.
But she couldn’t get turned on.

The roar of a skimmer crashing made her jump. She could hear men shouting orders, boots stomping.

She was too scared.

Scared of failing. Scared of trusting him. Her throat tightened, and tears welled in her eyes. A sob slid up her throat. She
cupped his face and raised his head.

“Rion. I can’t.”

“What would you like?” He remained calm, no censure in his gaze. “Tell me what to do.”

Damn it. She didn’t know what to do. Soft lighting, music, and a stiff drink might help. But they didn’t have those luxuries.

Rion gathered her close. “It’s okay.”

Outside, a siren wailed. Even worse, the boots of many men marching their way made her tremble. She had to hurry. She had
to get a grip.

The Unari were coming. And she couldn’t stop shaking.

Sick at heart, she slid against Rion’s heat. “It’s not okay. It’s not.”

Fear is not the natural state of stable people.

—L
ADY OF THE
L
AKE

M
arisa embraced Rion and cried into his broad chest. He moved his hands up and down her back soothingly, making small caresses.
He kneaded the knots from her shoulders and massaged the tension from her neck until she finally ran out of tears.

What the hell was wrong with her? She’d just had the mother of all meltdowns. Come unglued. Fallen apart. And she didn’t understand
it. Marisa had as many self-doubts as the next woman, but she usually had surplus self-control.

She had to calm her raw nerves. In her former career, she’d been under fire several times in the Mideast. She’d gone for days
without sleep. She’d been behind enemy lines, even been captured once and had waited in a cell blindfolded for three long
days until she’d been saved. But she’d never lost it like this.

What was she so afraid of? She’d looked death in the eye before. Something was wrong. Something was different, almost as if…
something was altering her perceptions.

She snapped up her head. Looked into Rion’s surprised eyes. “That Tyrannizer is getting to me.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Maybe it’s affecting all humans. Or maybe I’m especially sensitive because of our nearness or my telepathic ability. But
it’s like depression weighing on me, making me think we can’t succeed. Making me afraid.”

His eyes narrowed. “You think it’s affecting all of us on a subconscious level?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “I’ve always
wondered if… I thought perhaps my people gave up too easily. I’ve made excuses for them. I thought it was the starvation,
the torture. But Honorians are proud of our freedom. We don’t give up.” His hands gripped her shoulders. “But even among the
rebels, even those farthest from the Tyrannizer, there’s a definite lack of spirit.”

“It’s not just physical pain. That machine piles on gloom and despair, and it steals hope. It may even affect the Unari—without
their knowledge.”

He frowned. “We need to take out the Tyrannizer, but we can’t because we’re afraid?”

“Wrong.” She grinned. “Now that we know those feelings are false, we can ignore them.” At least she hoped she could.

She nibbled on Rion’s chest. Concentrated on the pressure of her lips against his warm, smooth flesh. She focused on the pleasure
of touch, how sensitive her lips felt, how skimming her tongue over his warm skin increased her craving for more. His scent
always made her feel feminine and sexy, and she breathed in deep, relying on her senses. And her memories. He’d told her he
loved her, and the knowledge filled her with sizzling need.

Rion was the man she loved. Her true love. This man had returned to save his world. He was willing to risk his life for their
freedom. Rion slid his hands over her, skimming her back with slow, smooth strokes, massaging her scalp, tracing the delicate
skin at her neck and over her shoulders. He cherished her with his fingers, and she quivered in anticipation.

Damn, he felt good. He always seemed to know exactly what she liked. With one hand he captured both of hers and held them
over her head. His mouth found hers, and she closed her eyes, their tongues dancing, the fingers of his free hand playing
between her breasts.

He had her stretched out. Pinned. He could take whatever he wished. She just wished he’d hurry up and take.

His exploration with his lips and fingers had her moaning softly. He caressed her breasts with his palms, and with his fingertips
he teased her nipples, shooting a direct current straight to her core. Heat seeped and moisture trickled between her thighs.
She tried to lift her hips higher and parted her legs.

He stepped between her feet. She could no longer close her legs—not that she wanted to close them. But he wasn’t accepting
her blatant invitation. And now she’d lost the luxury of squeezing her legs together and applying pressure where she craved
it most.

She needed him inside her. But he seemed in no hurry at all.

“More,” she whispered between kisses. “More.” She needed him to move faster, move lower. Finally, he inched his hand into
her curls. She arched her spine, and he cupped her mons, and a delicious flow of warmth washed over her. She moaned into his
mouth, trying to get closer. She needed more friction, more stroking, more heat. Every cell in her body tensed.

Waiting.

But he ignored her parted thighs. Kept her mouth too busy for her to speak. His hands stoked, stroked, sensuously teased until
she couldn’t hold still.

She squirmed, trying to get him to hurry, to let her find release. She was right there, and he had yet to really touch her.
She jammed her hips against his hand. But he was staying with slow and easy. Driving her mad.

She ached for fast and hard.

Her breath grew frazzled. She stood on tiptoes trying to lift into his hand, but he kept her right on the edge. Breasts aching,
she strained, tensed, waited. If her hands were free, she would have pounded his shoulders, but he had trapped her wrists.
His legs kept her from closing her thighs.

She was at his mercy. Open, waiting. He could touch her wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

God, how she wanted. Her entire body was sizzling and stressed. Their kiss was hot enough to fuse metal, and the rest of her
was melting.

Ever so slowly, he parted her slick folds, slipped a finger inside her. She was so ready, one touch should be enough for her
to find sweet release.

But he was too gentle, too slow. She groaned in frustration.

He tapped the center of her nerves. Lightly. Too lightly to do more than wind her tighter. She needed air, tore her mouth
from his, and lolled her head back against the wall.

Her entire focus centered on his finger, one tiny pressure point where all her nerve endings joined.

She pulsed in anticipation. But his mouth was now free to lave her nipple, roll the tip between his tongue. Her back against
a wall, her breast in his mouth, she could no longer even squirm.

He played her body, drew every cell up so tight that she had to clench her jaw to prevent herself from begging. He was giving
her pleasure, pure pleasure. Holding her right on the brink. She couldn’t take much more…

But waiting felt so damn good. And so damn bad.

She panted. Ached. Despite her determination not to beg, soft words came from her mouth, seemingly of their own accord. “Please.
I can’t take much more.”

“I know.” He growled low and husky and went right on doing exactly what he’d been doing. He tapped her clit. She pulsed and
throbbed. Panted.

“Again,” she demanded.

Ever so slowly, he tapped her again. Her head thrashed from side to side. “Not hard enough. Not long enough.”

“I know.”

She waited for him to give her what she’d asked for. But he didn’t. Instead, he touched her again. So gently, ripples of heat
began in her breasts and spiraled outward until she thought she’d expire from the waiting.

Her toes curled, her lips grew numb. Every atom in her body focused on his touch. Which was smooth, soft, gentle.

Her moisture coated his finger. But his touch remained feather light. While he had his finger exactly on the tip of her clit,
exactly where she craved, his fingertip made only tiny maddening circles.

“Ah… ah… Rion. Please. I need you now.”

“Mm,” he agreed, but he kept his finger caressing her, his teeth biting her nipple, his tongue mimicking his finger.

“I can’t… oh… oh-oh. Ohhhh…” She gasped. Her head was spinning. She barely knew what she was saying or doing. Just a little
bit more and she would be there. “Please, Rion. Don’t make me… oh… ah… don’t make me wait.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice low and sexy.

Good. He was going to… but he wasn’t… And she grew frantic with the rush of need. Her nipples were so tight, the nubs hard
and sensitive, that she panted.

She opened her eyes and stared into his. And gasped. Rion’s normally gray irises were shining dragon gold. He still possessed
human features, but the flesh on his neck was now dark purple scales. His skin was thicker and tougher, slicker.

But her body was out of control. She couldn’t think past the simple recognition that he was dragonshaping, because his fingers
between her legs were picking up speed, applying more pressure.

But his progression was still too damn slow. Each time he gave her a tiny stroke of friction, her body adjusted and demanded
more.

Sweat glistened on her skin, and her body flushed with heat. The golden gleam from his gaze caressed like fire. Perhaps she
was burning up from the inside out. His fingers moved faster, flicked harder.

While their gazes locked, he inserted one finger inside her, and the intimate act shot the most incredible sizzle through
her. She strained toward release, but he moved his finger in and out of her way too slowly to do anything more than drive
her into a deeper frenzy that left her groping to hang on, her breath raspy, her scales undulating.

“Rion, damn it. I… need… you.”

“Yes.”

“I am… not… freakin’… kidding.”

He slipped a second finger inside her. His thumb pressed onto her clit. She was going to explode. Just one more flick.

He stopped.

She felt as if she was going to die as all those wonderful sensations stacked up, built. But they didn’t break.

She was hanging by one tiny chain that was about to snap.

For a moment, he sucked her breast into his mouth and totally ignored the pending explosion between her parted legs. She felt
like she was sizzling, throbbing, panicked with the need for release.

He bit her nipple and sucked away the pain. She gasped in pleasure and frustration. And that’s when he telepathically sent
his plan for the attack into her mind. Their minds linked. And like two rivers that joined at a fork before merging into the
sea, she couldn’t tell where her mind stopped and his began.

She could feel her nipple in his mouth. And she could feel his mouth around her nipple. It was like being slammed twice over
with sensations. From her side. From his side.

And like a ripple in the water that began with a single pebble and spread outward, his message kept spreading. Across the
palace, across the Unari structure, across Chivalri.

The merging of minds made her oh so much more receptive to pleasure. He no longer had to guess exactly what she wanted. He
knew. And still he held back.

Tension bowed her.

Uttering a fierce groan, he released her hands, wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her onto his sex.

With one roaring thrust, he took her. A tiny part of her realized that roar was his signal for the rebel attack to start,
but the rest of her was beyond caring. She came apart like a star going supernova, the pleasure expanding and spiraling and
widening into an all-encompassing fury.

And the message kept spreading across the ocean.