Rumpel's Prize (17 page)

The next morning Shayera lay on her stomach on a red-and-white-checkered blanket under the bough of a large acorn tree and read while she chewed on a tart but sweet red apple she’d plucked from a tree just a yard away.

Now that she was well into the third tome, the story of Delerium was becoming more and more riveting as she discovered the history of the clans and rival factions of familial groups. She’d never understood Mother’s fascination with history and learning about peoples and places she’d never see or know; Shayera had always been a feet-firmly-rooted-in-the-present type of girl, but reading this helped her see a broader picture of who Rumpel really was.

She took another large bite and chewed, smiling at the caricature of a gnarled imp exchanging riches in exchange for goods.

Apparently only demone royalty possessed the ability to conjure magick, and their form of payment was offering goods and services in exchange for whatever their current needs were. It was how they all amassed such vast fortunes and why Rumpel, even now so far away from home, continued to make his trade thus.

A fleck of apple fell onto the page. Brushing it off with her finger, she frowned when a heavy shadow veiled the words. Frowning, she glanced up and her stomach immediately lurched at the sight of him.

Tall, and broad, and powerful, dressed in brown leathers and a dark red vest and shirt, he looked as though he could have stepped out of the pages of time.

“Doing some light reading, I see.” He scratched his cleft jaw and she suffered the strongest urge to nip at it.

Just the sight of Rumpel made her remember what they’d done two long nights ago. Tamping down her charms because she’d decided just this morning she would not entangle her heart with him further, she sat up.

But as he stared broodily at her, she realized what’d seemed so easy to assume she’d do this morning was in fact going to be anything but. She could no more control her vexing emotions than she could rein in a storm.

Covering her eyes, fruit-tinted breeze blowing through her impossible-to-control curls, she waited for him to join her.

Sitting, he dragged one knee up and took a peek at the page she’d been reading. “So what have you gleaned of me, Carrot?”

Her lips twitched. Sometime between day one and now, Carrot had gone from being an annoyance to making her feel a slight thrill whenever he uttered it. Like maybe it was an intimacy he shared with few.

And… if she didn’t watch it, she’d be in great danger of letting thoughts of the man burrow in so deep she’d never be able to rid herself of him. Sighing, she jerked the book out from under him and snapped it shut.

“I learned…” She took a bite of her apple, making a great show of crunching it obnoxiously—mostly because his nearness made her quite nervous and it was the only thing she could think to do. “You truly are a devil—you make deals and you take them away.”

He shrugged. “I keep to my bargains. If my patrons break faith, then the revocation of magicks is on them.”

Snorting, she swallowed and was just about to take another bite when he snatched the apple from her hand and, never breaking eye contact, took a huge bite from the same spot she had.

She suddenly felt quite hot.

His grin turned cocky.

“You… you.” She cleared her throat.

“Cat got your tongue, siren?”

Mood turning more charged and electric than she’d have liked, she flicked her wrist. “Stop being so cheeky. And no, you’re wearing entirely too much cologne—it’s offensive to me.” She sniffed.

“Oh come now.” His powerful throat worked as he swallowed his bite of apple, and then tossing it over his shoulder, he leaned forward. “I’m not wearing any.”

She couldn’t help but inhale; it was an automatic response to his nearness. “So you naturally smell of whiskey and cloves?” Her voice sounded much more breathy than it should.

He turned but didn’t put space between them. His touch burned like a brand and she shivered beneath its intensity. “They say when like souls meet that a unique chemical pheromone is released, one perfect for the other. Do you know what you smell like to me, little siren?”

She swallowed hard. He was the fire, she was the moth. She had to get up, had to get away, for he’d consume her entirely, but just as a moth would, she leaned not away, but deeper into him.

“Roses. Sweet, succulent roses.”

There were so many questions she should be asking, so many things she should say. “Why didn’t you return to me after that night?”

It wasn’t at all what she’d intended to say, but the truth she kept trying so hard to deny won out.

His lashes fluttered. “Do you want me?”

She liked that he didn’t play games, that she didn’t have to try to figure out what Rumpel meant.

“Too much to be sane.”

He flipped his hand over, revealing a black satin eye mask. “Tie this on.”

She laughed. “Please tell me you did not come expecting?” She plucked it from his hand and held it up by a string, but she couldn’t deny she’d hoped that by lying down in such an open and exposed section of the garden she might entice him to come out and join her, and maybe even initiate an encounter, exactly as he was doing.

Yes, the siren in her had instigated the entire scenario.

His smile slipped, turning from jovial to predatory. The gleam of sexual need winked at her from the depths of his golden amber eyes. His animal was ready to play. Shaking with nerves and anticipation, she quickly tied the mask on.

Immediately his scent of sulfur and smoked cherries surrounded her, and for a brief minute she wondered if that was her kryptonite. Smoked cherries, peaty whiskey, and cloves, because anytime she smelled it on him it drove her absolutely wild.

Then she yelped, because powerful hands were scooping her up.

“Today I will taste you as I’ve dreamt of doing since my fingers had you by the fire.”

“Good heavens.” What a horribly silly thing to say and she might have even been mortified, except that his skilled hands were already jerking at her pale green day dress.

“Lift your arms,” he ordered.

Shoving them high into the air, she moaned when he shucked her gown off her. The breeze kissed her naked flesh and the fact that she could not see him, but he could see all of her, made her feel wicked and naughty and completely turned on.

He laughed. “You’re a siren true.” His heated words feathered along the curve of her neck and her body flared to life as he traced the line between her breasts.

Moaning at the exquisite sensations he brought out in her, she dug her fingers into his biceps.

“What are you going to do to me today?” Her excitement echoed through her breathlessness.

She didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. She was shoved roughly against the tree trunk. The bark bit into her flesh and it was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked between nips at her collarbone.

Shaking, she clung to him for dear life as her world tilted on its axis. His silky wet tongue glided along her flesh, made her ache and her blood sing.

Large, hot hands traced the swells of her breasts and she grunted, twisting her face to the side, wishing she could toss the mask off and look at her lover as he now looked at her.

But she could imagine what he looked like. Ebony skin gleaming in the hot sun, glowing red eyes, and that sensual, smoldering look of his that made her wet the moment he turned to her.

“Rose-tipped nipples. Gods, woman,” he said breathlessly, and then his mouth was upon her and she cried out, digging her nails into his scalp, demanding he stay where he was and worship her.

She’d never allowed another to touch her this way. To hold her, to caress the intimate flesh of her body. Cold and hot, nerves a riotous explosion of too much and not enough, his touch consumed her.

His teeth scraped and she cried out at the shocking flare of pain that was quickly soothed away by his wet tongue and warm kisses.

“I’ve studied you too.” His words were gentle, even while his touch was not. His hand was kneading her other breast and she couldn’t help but thrust into it, wanting more and more.

“And what have you discovered?” she ground out.

Then his lips were on her, teasing around the hardened tip, and she whimpered, clamping onto her lip with such force she almost broke skin.

“That a siren”—he licked at her nipple like it was a treat and as he did so, his palm cupped her lower stomach, his fingers dancing right above her aching, wet center—“likes it hard, and rough, and fast, and just a little bit—”

He slipped one finger inside her, and a throaty, full-bodied moan exploded from her throat.

“Dangerous.”

She was fully alive. A creature of touch, of sensation, she wasn’t Shayera in this moment. She was her siren, an animal ruled by her passions, by her baser and most elemental need.

Sex.

“Above you is a tree limb. Grab it.”

She obeyed without compunction.

He moved away from her, dropping his hands, but even in total darkness she felt his gaze burn through her. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

Digging her fingers into the rough bark, she could only imagine. Pale, naked, with her red frizzy hair whipping like charmed cobras around her head.

“Tell me,” she whispered.

“Like a vision.” She heard his smile, the awe of his words, and could not understand it.

She was just Shayera. A troublesome little redheaded hermit.

“Spread your legs for me.”

Shivering, and not from cold, she parted her thighs and then trembled when his finger ran along her wet slit.

“So pink. So wet. My jewel.” He moaned and then he did the most shocking, amazing, wonderful thing.

His mouth replaced his hand and she shook so hard the tree branch groaned. Crying out, she jumped back. Everything inside her rioted—her nerves, her breaths, her ability to reason.

“Do not move,” he growled in that throaty whisper of his, and then his hands clamped onto her thighs and she wanted to die the moment his tongue stroked her there.

“Rumpel,” she moaned. “I want to touch you.”

“Not yet.” He feasted on her, sucking and laving, and her head swam.

The dark world spun out of control.

“Rumpel,” she cried out, half in fear, half in pleasure.

“Trust me, Carrot, and let go. When it feels right, let go.”

She felt like she might internally combust, might explode from the inside out. She felt heavy and light at once, both tethered to the ground and free as a bird.

His fingers played expertly upon her thighs and calves, massaging her, and all she could do was twist upon his mouth, and when she came it was like a supernova blast of energy. Lights danced behind her eyes from squeezing them so hard, and the only word she could say was his name.

He didn’t stop until she fell limp against him.

“Now let go of the branch.”

The moment she did, he pulled her tight to his chest and gradually laid them upon the ground. Patting her hair, he whispered sweet nonsense into her ear and she was sure she’d never return from the mindless pleasure.

“Are you back yet, siren?” He chuckled, and she swatted his chest.

“What did you do to me? I swear you sucked the very soul from my body.”

Placing a tender kiss upon her mouth, he nuzzled her cheek, and she still tasted herself on him. It was odd, but not altogether unpleasant.

“Do you want to know me too, love?” His finger toyed with a curl of her hair, he twirled it about her nipple and she nodded.

“Yes. I do.”

He inhaled. “Would you like to touch me as I touched you?”

She knew something of what a male member looked like. There were farms aplenty in her quiet hamlet, and it was easy enough to catch a glimpse of animals doing what they do. The thought of allowing Rumpel to shove something as large as a horse’s part into her mouth made her incredibly nervous.

“Will it hurt?” she whispered, fisting his shirt.

Stroking her cheek, he said, “I will not force anything upon you. If you do not like it, then we stop. Do we have a deal?”

She smiled. “Will I need to seal it in blood?”

His laughter filled her with joy. Whenever he was like this, Rumpel wasn’t the haughty male, he was warm and friendly, and she liked this side of him. Very, very much.

“For you, I forgo my usual payment.”

“Oh, how kind, dark prince.” She patted her chest.

He rolled out from under her, and then she heard the shuffle and movement of clothes peeling off. When he rejoined her a minute later, there was only skin pressed to skin.

Sucking in a breath, she traced her fingers over him, letting her palm slowly scrape along the length of him, learning him by touch alone. His breathing was sharp and heavy, but he did not stop her as she glided along the ridged cords of muscle, dipped her finger into his belly button, and finally smoothed her palm over the coarse hairs of his thighs.

Sitting up to a kneeling position, she nibbled on her lip and he moaned.

“Gods, I could come just from looking at you this way.”

Smiling, licking her lips, she continued her sensual exploration and stilled when she encountered the long thickness of him.

“Rumpel?” She wasn’t sure why she’d said his name. Maybe she was asking for help, for guidance, or maybe she just needed to say it.

“Take my cock and stroke me.” He grabbed her hand in his and guided her to the length of him.

She shivered as he glided their twined fingers up and down; he was veiny and yet impossibly smooth, especially at the tip. “It feels like velvet.”

He moaned, and his leg twitched against her buttocks. “Harder,” he grunted.

When she squeezed, he loosened her grip just a little.

“Gentle but hard, love. Like this.” And he proceeded to show her how to move, not too hard, but not too soft either.

She smiled, wondering if he realized that just as he had the other night, he’d called her love. She was sure it was just a meaningless phrase, especially while in the middle of the coital act, but it warmed her just the same.

Harder they pumped, and then he released his hand. “Just you. Yes.” He sighed when she gave him a firm squeeze down at the base. “Gods, yes.”