Soul of Flame (6 page)

Intending to push him away, her fingers clutched at his short hair instead. He traced the seam of her pussy with his tongue, a low rumble in his throat vibrating through the tight bundle of nerves. He gripped her ass, pressing her closer to his hot mouth. Yielding to his touch, she allowed him to lift her leg and curl it over his broad shoulder, giving him access to her core. Her knees wobbled when he thrust his tongue deep inside her, licking and probing, taking what he wanted without mercy. Calloused hands tightened their grip, bracing her while he feasted. Staring down at the sight of his head buried between her thighs, she gasped. His short, dark hair glinted in the sun, highlighting the rosette pattern imprinted there. He sucked on her clit, green eyes fixed on hers. She bucked her hips in response to the pull of his lips, and she lost balance. Catching her weight with ease, he lowered her onto her back.

Palming her thighs, he spread them wide before his hungry gaze. “I could scent you from the gates. I couldn’t keep away from you.”

She lifted on her elbows surprised at the anger in his voice.

“I don’t want to be here. Don’t want this. Don’t want you,” he snarled.

She fought to free her body, but the strength of his hold on her hips increased until she knew bruises would bloom there later.

Eyes glowing in fury and lust, he glared down at her. “What did you do to me? What madness is this? I feel drunk on the taste of you, and I can’t get enough.” As though to prove his point, he pushed his face back down into her pussy and lapped at her, his tongue gathering the cream flowing from her core.

The hum from the circle, the rasp of his tongue over her clit drove all thoughts of indignation from her head. Sliding back against the hot stone beneath her, she couldn’t think, could only ride the lightning of sensation spearing her body. He thrust two thick fingers into her pussy, pumping them in and out at a punishing speed. She gasped and writhed, the noises falling from her mouth guttural and harsh as he fucked her hard with his hand. Teeth clamped around her clit, and he growled, biting down on the sensitive nerves. Her orgasm blasted through her, sending her screaming over the edge of bliss.

A sharp flare of heat ripped through her body. The energy in the circle peaked then settled into a low hum. She whimpered, twisting her hips to try and evade his questing mouth. He snarled, refusing to remove his tongue until he gathered every drop of arousal from her pussy. Sitting back on his heels, Shim wiped his mouth with his hand, pausing to lick his fingers clean before he rose above her.

“I thought your sister was the one to fear.” He growled, the glint of anger back in his eyes. “What a fucking idiot I was to believe the Rowans when they told me you were innocent. Everyone knows the fae are tricky bastards, capable of manipulating everyone around them to get what they want.”

With a scream of rage, he jumped from the top of the dolmen, sprinting across the meadow. The steaming jungle had vanished, the meadow once again a mass of summer blooms. Silence lay thick upon the air, sunshine played across her cheek. The soft breeze returned, blowing a strand of her hair over her eyes. Ceara snatched at it in fascination. No longer the dull lifeless brown she’d grown accustomed to since the accident, her hair blazed bright red once again.

Shim ran through the meadow as though the hounds of hell snapped at his heels. His jaguar rode him hard, desperate to turn back to the fae who smelled so good and tasted like heaven on the back of his tongue. The man knew better, though. He’d let Isolde get close enough to capture him because he never looked beyond the surface of her pretty face, and now he’d done worse with Ceara. When he’d caught her smoke-and-spice scent drifting through the gates, he’d been unable to resist its draw. His first instinct had been to find her and apologize in person for his attack, make sure she was unharmed.

Given he’d only seen her bundled up to her ears, the sight of her naked atop the dolmen damn near stopped his heart. Soft brown hair, flowing like melted chocolate over her shoulders and down her back. Her creamy-white skin stretched over lean muscle and ripe curves made his mouth water. But a nice body couldn’t explain his instant obsession. She’d shed her disguise, and there had been no mistaking her for anything other than a being with immense power and strength. The stubborn tilt to her chin when she stared down at him, the haughty lift to her brow. The expression in her eyes that said she would take him down, and chew his balls off while she was at it, sent blood rushing to his cock.

And she’d liked him looking at her, regardless of the disdain on her face. When her nipples ripened like berries under his gaze, he’d stopped fighting the attraction. One lick, one taste, and he longed to devour her whole. He knew he hadn’t been gentle. The shame of it drove his feet faster. He couldn’t condone his rough handling of a female, but she’d driven him beyond sanity. He didn’t want to want her. She was the spitting image of Isolde, and yet so different. It confused the hell out of him.

The cat didn’t care. He knew by scent and taste she was nothing like her evil sister. Need beat at him, the burning desire to bathe in her body until her essence imprinted on their soul. When she came apart on his tongue, something eased inside him. The cat purred, content they had pleasured her, as was their duty, their right. Shim had been poised, ready to strip off his shorts and bury himself deep inside her wet heat. The shock when he raised his eyes and saw the fiery glow of her hair, the energy pulsing in her eyes had been immense. She had been so clever, playing the victim, luring him in with her body. But she was a liar. If she could alter her appearance with such ease, what else was she capable of?

Shim hit the footpath and slowed his pace, not wishing to draw attention to himself. Rekkus would not be happy he’d disobeyed the instruction to leave the fae alone. He doubted an admission the tiger had been right would assuage his anger at being crossed. He marched along the path to the Haus. He had an appointment with Sarka for another potion to try. The memory of the foul brew she’d forced upon him earlier in the day made him shudder, but he didn’t care. He needed this curse broken, and he needed it broken now. The full moon would be in two days, and the jaguar would not be contained during her zenith. Unless he was prepared to suffer a night of agony, he needed to heal his cat, fast.

Shim knocked on the office door, knowing better than to enter before the cool summons. Sarka sat behind the desk, and she beckoned him with an impatient scowl. A brass chalice rested before her on the desk, a dark silk cloth draped over it. Shim eyed it with trepidation. Ice-blue eyes studied him, raising the cat’s hackles. He suppressed a hiss. She saw too much. Settling into a seat across from her, he regretted not taking the time to collect himself better before facing her.

“You look agitated, Shimeer. If you no longer require my assistance, you need only to say so.” Her icy glare spread to her voice. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a cleansing breath. The sharp edge of her scent swirled around the room. The anger in it was abstract, not aimed at him. A long-simmering tension she carried with her. If a man had caused such rage, he felt damn sorry for the bastard. He lifted his lids, the cat inside him curious about the enigmatic woman opposite.

Sarka removed the cloth from the chalice, and, with a nasty grin, slid the cup over the desk. “You didn’t have quite the reaction I’d hoped to the potion I gave you this morning. I’ve chatted with Janessa, and we think this combination might be more successful.” His curiosity fled. He knew everything about the Wiccan he needed.

The contents of the chalice sloshed, the viscous brew clinging to the sides of the cup before settling again. Green and brackish, it reminded him of a pool of stagnant water. He’d drunk from such a pool when a young cub and been sick for days afterwards. Not an experience he was keen to repeat any time soon.

She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair, and he sighed, reaching for the cup. The acrid scent brought tears to his eyes. Squeezing them shut, he threw the entire contents down his throat. His stomach rebelled at the foul taste, and he clamped a hand tight over his mouth to avoid spewing the brew onto the desk. His jaguar whined and fled to the far reaches of his consciousness, seeking to distance himself from the evil liquid coating his tongue and throat. It chased away the lingering taste of Ceara in his mouth, which he should have been grateful for, but it left him bereft.

Opening his eyes once he’d convinced his stomach its contents would have to stay, he scowled at the look of delight wreathing Sarka’s face before she dropped her mask of indifference back into place.

“So, how was that?” she asked in a sweet tone that didn’t suit her. He suspected these sessions were more punishment than cure.

He cleared his throat, swallowing to force the last of the thick liquid down before he spoke. “Not bad.”

She snorted once, reaching for a leather-bound book to make notes. Her dark hair fell around her face, creating a curtain. She carried on writing, ignoring him until the tension in the room stretched his nerves to the screaming point.

“Better check your schedule,” she said without lifting her head. “You’ve got a breathing and meditation class with Trixie in a couple of minutes.”

He snarled and threw himself out of the chair, stomping to the door. He froze at the soft snicker rising behind him. Storming out of the room, he banged straight into Rekkus. The were-tiger took one sniff and scowled.

“You have got to be freaking kidding me. I told you to stay away from her,” he snarled.

“Don’t start with me, Rekkus, I’m not in the mood,” Shim snapped back. “I won’t be going near that hateful little bitch again, so you have nothing to worry about. Wait until you see her. She’s played you all for fools with her ‘poor little me’ act.”

He stepped around Rekkus, heading down the corridor leading to the meditation suite. The big man blocked his path, grabbed his shoulder in a tight grip, and forced him to halt.

“Hateful, is she?” A purr hinted in his voice.

Shim snapped his eyes up to meet the thoughtful golden gaze.

“I know we are different breeds, jaguar, but your cat is pretty similar to mine in most things. If you hate the fae so much, ask yourself why you carry her scent on your skin still.” Rekkus released his shoulder, folding his arms across his thick chest. “I need you down at the training fields in about an hour. Telly and the other wolves are a handful, and I can’t give them and Ben the attention they all need. The bear cub needs some one-on-one time. Make sure you have a goddamn wash before you show up. You reek of sex, and that’s the last thing those boys need to scent.”

Shim toweled off his short hair and pulled clean clothes from his duffle. The contents of his room in the main Haus had been transferred. He would be sleeping in the barracks until Rekkus told him otherwise. Gathering his dirty clothes, he paused. The T-shirt still carried Ceara’s heat and spice. He shoved it under his pillow, refusing to examine his motivation for doing so. He donned a fresh shirt and pants. He would be going to dinner after his session with Ben, so he might as well be ready.

The kid sat on his bed, reading a book, when Shim knocked on the doorframe, startling him a little. He stayed outside the room, not wanting to crowd the boy by invading his territory. Ben might be only fifteen, but the boy matched him in height. He was broader, too, although a lot less graceful. The sweet-natured young man was diffident, a little too conscious of his size. Had he hurt someone by accident, or was he struggling to adjust to a recent growth spurt?

“Hey, Ben. I want to stretch my legs and thought maybe you would like to join me.” The naked delight on the boy’s face eased the stress inside Shim. Pushing thoughts of Ceara out of his mind, he concentrated on his task. The diminishment of his own prowl robbed him of the chance to mentor young shifters. They strolled away from the barracks in companionable silence, wending their way to the training fields. Steering his charge around the perimeter, Shim gave the young man a chance to settle himself in the presence of a very dominant elder.

“Have you been to the island before, Ben?” He kept his voice quiet, and the young cub nodded but didn’t speak. Smiling to himself, he tried again. “Well, you will know the area better than I do, then. Why don’t you show me your favorite spot?”

Ben glanced sideways at Shim, and, after receiving a nod of encouragement, took the lead, heading away from the fields toward the river which ran close by. Trees and large boulders lined the banks. Ben selected a square, flat-topped stone, clambering on top with an agility belying his size. Shim leapt up, trying not to think about the dolmen in the middle of the stone circle. He settled cross-legged on the boulder, facing the water. Ben took off his shoes, letting his feet dangle over the edge so they hung above the slow-moving river. The boy had chosen a peaceful spot, quiet except for the rippling water and the odd splash of a fish breaking the surface. Excited barks from the little wolf pack carried on the breeze as Rekkus put the other boys through their paces far away on the training field.

Shim cast his mind back to a long time ago, remembering the excitement and uncertainty of being on the cusp of adulthood. The pull of the moon like a siren he couldn’t ignore, bringing uncontrollable changes and the urge to rut on anything remotely female. There’d been more than one embarrassing encounter when he’d come across the girls from the local village bathing and playing in the stream. He shook his head, recalling the hours spent lurking in the trees in his jaguar form, spying on them.

“I was a goddamn Peeping Tom at your age, Ben.” He laughed, explaining a little about his youthful misadventures. The young bear relaxed and laughed along with him before growing contemplative as he stared out across the river.

“How do you know when you’ve met your mate? I asked Rekkus, but he just grunted and said I would know. I’m so confused.” A faint blush highlighted Ben’s freckled cheeks. He kept his face turned away, so Shim could only study his profile.