Seduced by Crimson (40 page)

She reached up and parted her robe, allowing it to slip to the ground at her feet. "I understand," she repeated with a smile.

So began his worship of the Earth, his blessing and reverence and communion with all that was the planet and her. He touched her face first, a soft exploration of cheek and ear, of the line of her jaw and the jut of her chin. His other hand joined the first, touching the opposite side of her face, the curve of her eyebrow, the ticklish drape of her hair. He pulled off her scarf and let it drop to the ground.

Part of her wanted to speak. Words trembled on her lips, but never quite formed. There was something missing in what they did. Something vital that left a hole as gaping as the demon gate. But Xiao Fei didn't know what it was, so how could she express it to him? She remained silent as she gazed into Patrick's eyes and he feathered caresses across her face.

He touched her lips and an electrical current tingled like the precursor to a storm. It centered on her mouth, setting her lips to a gentle burning. The energy was growing.

His eyes followed his caress, and she followed the shift of his gaze. So often the monks had soft gazes and unfocused eyes. Not Patrick. His attention remained laser sharp, and wholly centered on her. She had the feeling he saw everything about her. He would even know if her toes twitched, so total was his attention.

His thumb slipped inside her mouth. She tasted the rough texture of his skin, the hard edge of his nail, and the points where the two joined. The woman inside her body wanted to suck him in, wanted to pull him to her to hurry their joining; her need was already growing. But the part of her that was the Earth kept her steady and quiet. This act was for Patrick. This was his exploration, his worship, his joining. There would be time for her participation, but for now, he was simply growing accustomed to and learning the shape of things to come.

She waited, her breath quickening as he drew near. His thumb continued to stretch and touch—her tongue, her teeth, even the roof of her mouth. And the tingling current that burned in his wake set her entire mouth to a breathless wonder.

He withdrew his hand and a moment later stepped closer. She felt his robe brush against her knees, the press of fabric against her chest, and the near connection of his mouth against hers—but no completion, no true touch. He cursed softly and rapidly stepped back, leaving her bereft.

She might have said something then. The woman in her worried about so many things: men surrounding them, the demons who threatened, and the possibility of the ritual going wrong is a thousand terrible ways. But such worries only took away from her purpose, corrupting her will and her union with the Earth. So she pushed her fears away, and in time they were answered.

Patrick had stepped away to shuck his own robe. In fact, he took the time to lay his and her garments on the ground to form a kind of bower, but she kicked them aside.

"Do not create any barrier between us and Earth. We must touch the Earth and sky…"

"Fire and water," he agreed.

For the first time, she noticed the chalice and the blade on the ground near their feet, and the candles that illuminated the clearing. Above them the sky had turned dark, broken by the twinkling of what stars could be seen past the half-moon and the bright city glow.

Without conscious thought, she opened her arms to the heavens, lifting her face and her chest to the night above. And she felt Patrick's lips on her breast as reward. She also felt the shift and touch of the demon amulet. Patrick no longer wore it as a necklace. He had the chain wrapped around one wrist so that it dangled a few inches below his hand. This way he could grab it easily when it was time, but it also meant that the demon stone brushed against her at odd moments and in unexpected ways.

Her body tightened, and the woman in her gasped. And yet, this burning of the amulet seemed to add to the experience, not detract from it. Pain was part of life, and no power came without cost. Mother Earth was part of her, and Mother Earth accepted the demon amulet. Could Xiao Fei do any less?

So she arched her back even more, giving herself up to Patrick. His mouth teased her breasts. He shaped the soft mounds with his hands, took her nipples in his mouth, and sucked gently, rhythmically. He rolled the peaks around in his mouth and nipped at them to shoot flashes of current through her body.

Thankfully his hands left her breasts to slip around her back; otherwise she would have tumbled to the ground. He supported her, and soon his mouth left her breast, too, tasting a long trail up her chest and chin to her mouth. There he claimed her lips as she had so wanted earlier. He took her mouth with his, and plunged his tongue inside. She clung to him. She tasted him. She teased and stroked and mated mouth to mouth in the most primal of ways. But it was not enough.

Her hands were wrapped around his shoulders, and she leaned shamelessly against him. She had long since lost all strength in her legs, so he was all that supported her. In time, he lost that battle as well. He guided her gently to the ground, then followed her to the sweet earth.

The loamy scent of grass and wood was stronger here, and she inhaled deeply to reinforce her connection with Mother Earth. Patrick, too, took deep breaths, but his face was pressed close to her skin, and she knew he breathed her scent and enjoyed the heat that rose like steam from her body.

"It's not working," he murmured suddenly, an edge of desperation in his voice. "It's not working."

She frowned, trying to separate woman from Earth long enough to understand. "Of course it is," she returned.

"No. I see only you." He pressed his lips against her belly and swirled his tongue in a tiny circle. "I taste only you. I…" He choked off the last.

She stroked her fingers through his sandy hair, enjoying the sensation as those cool strands slid across the back of her hand. "Take your time, Patrick. You need not be the Draig-Uisge yet."

He shook his head, then pressed his cheek into her hand. "You don't understand. I cannot see you as Earth. I cannot touch you without knowing you as Xiao Fei."

"All are one," she murmured. "I can be both."

"But—"

"Hush." She drew him up her body. She forced him to rise up past her breasts, though he pressed gentle kisses into her skin as he moved. "Look into my eyes." He did. "What do you see?"

"You."

"You are a druid. Do you not recognize the god in all? The One in everything?"

"Of course."

"Then move from me to the whole."

He shook his head, and his face tightened with worry. "I cannot."

She smiled. "You are thinking again."

"But—"

She pressed her fingers to his lips to stop his words. "
Feel
."

His mouth moved in erotic patterns against her fingertips. "I feel too much," he said. "I feel such fear, Xiao Fei. What if this doesn't work?" He closed his eyes, and she felt him struggle to remain calm. "I have done the hard thing before. I have fought and made difficult choices under the most desperate conditions, but… this is different." He opened his eyes. "This is
you
."

She met his gaze, waiting. He needed to take the last step.

It took him a long time, and when he finally understood, his gaze became tragic. "I love you," he said.

"Then love me. And in healing me, you will heal the Earth." So saying, she extended her arm. Before he could stop her, she flicked her thumb against the nearest tear along her wrist. It opened easily, and her blood welled. She felt the power surge with the pain, but it was nothing compared to the Patrick's reaction.

"What are you doing? It isn't time yet!"

"It is exactly the right time," she answered. Then she opened another tear and another and another. All the way up her arm.

"Stop! Xiao Fei, stop!" He grabbed her wrists and wrenched her arms apart. The act brought him on top of her in the most intimate of ways, and she welcomed his weight. "It's not time yet!"

She smiled, feeling the familiar outpouring of energy that came with her blood flow. It welled out of her and dripped into the fertile ground, returning to Mother Earth. "I am Earth," she said to Patrick, reinforcing the symbology he needed. "I am bleeding through the demon gate."

His eyes burned with intensity. She could not identify all the emotions that swirled in the blue depths, but she knew his body was tight with fear. "Xiao Fei," he murmured, the sound echoing with desperation.

"Join with me, Patrick. Heal me."

His expression flattened, and his eyes deadened—not in the way of a man growing cold, but in the way of a man facing an exam. His body hardened and his determination surrounded them in power. He was the Draig-Uisge, and he would accomplish this task.

He adjusted his hips, found her hot center, and thrust. The impact made her arch forward, even as her breath rushed out on a gasp. He was inside her and the sensation was amazing.

She looked up at him, startled to see that his expression had lost its flatness. His eyes were
soft
, his gaze unfocused. "Xiao Fei," he whispered, clearly agonized. "God, what am I going to do?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked.

He frowned a moment, processing her statement. Then, when she moved her hips and made a face, he abruptly burst into laughter—a single rolling sound that strengthened the energy around them. She doubted he felt the difference, but she did, and it was amazing.

Grinning in mischievous delight, she tightened her inner muscles, relishing his gasp. Then she wrapped her legs around him and held him immobile as she did it again.

"Xiao Fei!" he cried. "This isn't about sex."

"Isn't it? It's about joining with the Earth. I am the Earth. What are you?"

He blinked and tried to order his expression into a serious frown, but she tightened her muscles again in an irregular rhythm. Every time she saw his gaze grow abstract, she gripped him. That threw off his concentration, returned him to sensation and the moment, and she felt herself growing wetter and happier with his every frown.

"Stop it!" he finally gasped. "I'm supposed to be healing you. Healing Earth!"

"Kiss me, Patrick," she replied.

He blinked in confusion, but acquiesced. She received a very thorough, very deliberate kiss. And when he pulled back, she nodded in absolute seriousness. "Very nice," she said. Then she flipped them over, straddling him, her knees burrowing into the ground, her breasts jiggling between them, and her blood still sliding down her arm. Then she kissed him.

It was deep, thorough, and wholly unrestrained. Her plan had been to pour her every erotic fantasy into that kiss. She would imagine her fantasy lover in all the myriad possibilities. And yet, as their lips touched, her fantasy man instantly morphed into one surfer druid. He was Patrick, and she needed no other. She kissed him with all the love in her heart, and with this beautiful, sexy, American man she felt the power surge and pulse around them. He was overwhelmed with all she did.

She lifted up to breathe, but only a scant inch. Far enough to capture his slightly dazed eyes with her gaze. "I love you, Patrick," she swore. "Whatever happens, I have such love in my heart for you, I cannot contain it."

He swallowed, looking nervous. There was a power surge, and she suddenly wondered if she had inadvertently destroyed all hope of closing the demon gate. She had just made this union about her and him. But that was how she'd been taught to work: start with the small and grow into the large. She said again, "I lo—"

He surged upward, capturing her lips. And while she was responding to his tongue thrusting into her mouth, he rolled them sideways. They were side by side, facing each other on the ground.

"You are everything to me," he whispered. He began to move again. His thrusts were gentle, a steady slide as he and she began to flow together, Patrick into Xiao Fei and back. His hand caressed her breast, lifting and molding it, pinching the nipple.

Sensation built inside her. Power swirled around them. Fulfillment washed through her.

Xiao Fei was so startled by the abrupt welling of sensation that her breath caught on a cry. She arched into Patrick and shuddered in release. But still he continued to thrust in and out, in and out, the steady wet pulse like a backbeat to the music they made, to all the tingling explosions that zipped and zinged through her system.

"My God," he gasped, though she could barely hear him. "You're like the sun. Your power…"

"Join it," she gasped. "Join me."

And so he did. She felt his thighs bunch, his tension, energy, and focus building to fever pitch. His thrusting became erratic, less restrained. And with every push he made between her thighs, her own climax renewed like repeated flashes of light inside her.

He thrust, and his intensity pushed her again onto her back. He thrust, and her legs widened, giving him more access. He thrust, and her entire body convulsed with pleasure.

He thrust, and the miracle began.