The Wellspring (22 page)

“It is,” she agreed, nodding. “It has
been—ever since I left the Project.” Which she actually meant since
leaving him, or at least thoughts of him behind, since they were
never together.

“I’m glad,” he said approvingly though Yule
imagined she saw a trace of hurt in his expression, as if he
understood the meaning of her words. “You deserve to be happy,
Yule.”

“I am,” she assured him. “How about the
others; Brenna and Jory, are they still with the Project?”

“Jory decided to stay out on the Shelf with
the Falmont source mining camp and I understand he’s having the
time of his life. Brenna,” he related with clear amusement.
“Married a Magus and is living in Bahatego Bay.”

Yule couldn’t help laughing lightly. “Why am
I not surprised?”

“It’s good to hear you laugh again,” he
remarked and she saw how closely he studied her.

“It took a while before I felt like it,” she
admitted.

He nodded. “I followed the proceedings
against Prosser Teomond, I think the decision to rescind his title
was just. Imprisonment wouldn’t have changed anything that
happened.”

“Sheirienu’s death was a tremendous blow to
him,” Yule commented sadly, recalling Prosser’s haggard features
the last time she saw him, when the Council passed their
decision.

“The Tahain Grotto was summarily disbanded by
the Council as well,” he told her. “The members were each put on
probation for being party to your kidnapping.”

“Oh? I hadn’t heard.”

“I thought that you and Prosser might. . . .”
his voice trailed off to awkward silence. “As I said, I followed
the proceedings and I saw you there, heard you speak on his
behalf.”

“Oh? Oh, no.” She looked down and thought she
must have blushed lightly at his suggestion. “I know he was
involved, but he realized his mistake and he did save my life.” She
shrugged. “There wasn’t anything more to it.”

“That’s good to hear.”

The relief in his voice made her raise her
head. “Oh? Why?”

Now it was Marc’s turn to blush, which
surprised her. “Well, it means you’re not seeing him and I hope
that means you might not be seeing anyone. . . . special?”

“Why would you hope something like that?” she
coyly inquired, suspecting she’d developed a thin streak of cruelty
because she enjoyed the way this handsome man squirmed at her
attitude. “I thought you said you want me to be happy.”

“I do!” he exclaimed.

“I thought you said I deserve to be happy,”
she added.

“You do!” he asserted.

“Shouldn’t you hope I’ve found someone nice
and stable with whom to settle down?”

“No!” he exclaimed vehemently and her
eyebrows rose. “Why didn’t you take any of my calls?” he abruptly
changed the subject.

“I didn’t want there to be any
misunderstanding.”

“About what?”

“All of that, what happened,” she said,
making a small motion with her right hand. “The Wellspring
business, you know. That was over and done with and I didn’t want
you to think you had to—stick around.”

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me,” she interrupted.
“But I think you still weren’t ready to accept that I wasn’t the
Wellspring so you had—misplaced affection.”

“You are the most aggravating, stubborn,
silly—”

“Silly?” she echoed with a hint of insult to
her tone.

“Yes, silly,” he reiterated. “I don’t care if
you are this fabled Wellspring or just an aggravating girl, I have
fallen in love with you.”

She looked up at him and tears sprang to her
eyes. “I wish you’d said that when I thought you were Marc
Woodmont, slightly eccentric philanthropist.”

“I am Marc Wood—eccentric?”

She nodded. “Everyone says so.”

“Do they?” His expression matched his rueful
tone and Yule couldn’t help bursting into tears because the
expression was so familiar on the beautiful face that was so
unfamiliar. “Yule, what is it? Why are you crying?” And his
impossibly muscular arms were around her, holding her with such
gentleness that she only wept harder.

“There might have been a ch—chance when you
were just Ma—Marc, this charming, laid-back, but mostly normal
guy.” Her tears were absorbed by his shirt and she was grateful
he’d worn that and jeans rather than come bare-chested and in a
pareo because blubbering on his naked chest would have been
embarrassingly messy. “But now you’re this—this supermodel demigod
guy and so far out of my league that I think there’s a law against
people like me even thinking about being with people like you!” His
chest moved oddly under her cheek and she heard an odd sound
rumbling around inside him so she looked up questioningly and
realized he was struggling to refrain from laughing! “I’m so glad
you find me funny!” She struggled to escape his arms to no
avail.

“Don’t you see? That’s exactly what you are,”
he told her. “You’re my funny, darling girl.” He tenderly caressed
her cheek. “You’re utterly ridiculous—and I love you.” Any
protestations she might have voice were muffled and swept away when
he bent and captured her trembling lips in his strong, sure ones.
After a moment more of half-hearted struggling her arms went around
his neck and her body melted against his.

In the next moment they were struggling with
each other’s clothes and their own, neither able to be rid of the
barriers fast enough to suit them and they laughed breathlessly at
their mutual impatience, but when Yule finally faced the masculine
perfection before her she felt her stomach knot with familiar
self-reproach. The large hands that gently captured her face
between them startled her and she looked up into his eyes.

"You’ve haunted my dreams every night since
we parted ways on the roof, do you know that?" When Yule shook her
head in disbelief, Marc smiled. "It's true. I'm ensnared by the
spell of your eyes. It makes me want you more than anything else.
If it’s magic—I can’t break the enchantment, I can’t even want
to."

Marc began to lean forward and Yule knew what
was coming. She knew because this was all so familiar and she tried
to remember why—thought it was important somehow. She held her
breath, terrified that even the faint sound of exhalation might
break the man's momentum toward her, and closed her eyes as the
last centimeter was crossed. Marc's lips sealing over hers.

Marc felt like torch flames and jungle
sunlight. The gentleness he’d always displayed was still embodied
in the powerful hands that held her face, but his kiss was pure,
burning passion. His mouth moved over hers with the sharp edge of
possessiveness, firm lips opening hers, demanding tongue pressing
for admittance. With a moan of surrender, Yule opened to him and
felt bathed in fiery radiance as he slowly lowered her to the soft
moss covering the ground beside the altar.

She reached up to bury her fingers in the
thick lengths of Marc’s hair. The strands were heavy and silky soft
between her fingers. She sighed into his mouth as her fingers
traced the delicate skin behind the man's ears then clutched at his
shoulders when one of his hands slid confidently between their
bodies to cup where Yule tingled. Her moan of apprehensive pleasure
was muffled against Marc’s lips as his talented fingers kneaded and
stroked her. The flat of his palm pressed hard, his fingers curving
down to lightly tease where it was already growing damp with
arousal causing Yule’s entire body to shudder.

"Marc what’s happening?" she gasped, tearing
her mouth free.

“We’re making love,” he told her, his tone
amused.

“I don’t mean that—I mean. . . .” What did
she mean? She felt a strange duality in this moment. As if it had
happened even as it was happening.

Marc wouldn’t let her escape so easily, his
hot lips searing a path across her cheek and along her jaw. He
kissed her frantically, as if addicted to the taste of her skin and
fearful of the withdrawal he’d suffer should she vanish. Yule felt
consumed by a ravenous beast and was stunned by her exhilaration.
She threw back her head, inviting the man to attack the bared
length of her throat, and to her delight every inch of her neck was
licked and suckled.

Marc wanted her! This amazing, beautiful man
wanted her so badly his entire body shook from the force of it and
Yule felt powerful, high on the rush of being desired, but all it
took was a flex of his fingers between Yule’s thighs to remind her
how completely and utterly she wanted to surrender to the man’s
desire. She was lost on the waves of uncharted emotions and Yule
moaned, hungry hands sweeping boldly over the curves of Marc's
firmly muscled shoulders. She traced the knobs and ridges of the
man's back, smoothed her palms over the sleek chest that rippled
beneath her fingers. He was hard muscle and grace, tanned skin
shining like gold in the dappled sunlight. Against that nutmeg
skin, Yule's natural skin, no longer spell-tanned, was strikingly
pale.

"You're like the inside of an ocean washed
shell," Marc breathed worshipfully, running a large palm over
Yule’s right breast causing the nipple to harden. His green eyes
were bright when he watched this happen, like the deepest part of
the ocean. "So smooth and perfect. You're beautiful, Yule. I’ve
been going crazy over how much I want you."

"Both of us can take what we want here," Yule
gasped, reaching down to boldly grasp the man’s erection in her
hand. He was hard and dauntingly large in her small palm and she
tried not to let her apprehension show as she met his sea green
eyes. "Take me, Marc. Here, in the Grove of my family, by the altar
of my ancient hearth, take me."

Marc made a sound like a growl, deep in his
chest and he sat back, curving a hand around the back of Yule’s
head. She hadn’t released his member and now it was aimed at her
face and she knew what he wanted from her, daring her to do what
she just challenged him to do. She could smell Marc's arousal like
a pungent spice on the air and even though she’d never given oral
sex before, except in her dream of an moonlight rendezvous with
Prosser, it made her hungry and desperate for a taste of the man.
Mouth watering, she hesitated only to take a breath before pulling
the heavy erection between her lips, surprised by the oral exertion
of reality and her memory of the beach dream.

Marc groaned like she’d punched him. It was
the only sound apart from the faint hum of industrious bees working
among the flowers in the fields beyond the Grove. Yule lapped
experimentally at the circumcised, plum-shaped head then licked the
strong flesh, tasting musk, salt, and the indefinable essence that
was Marc's alone. Marc tasted of spice and secrets and she licked a
pearly drop from the tip of man’s weeping erection and decided
she’d never sampled anything so delicious.

Long fingers curled into her hair, guiding
her head into a rhythm with which she complied, sealing her lips
around the turgid flesh and sliding wetly back and forth along its
length. It passed hot and slick across her tongue, the leaking tip
pressing against the back of her throat with each swallow. She
could feel fine tremors passing through the strong thighs upon
which she braced her hands, and something whispered in the back of
her mind this was a sign that Marc was getting close to orgasm. How
did she know?

Suddenly, she was pushed away and briefly
wondered if she’d done something wrong, but when her back crushed
the moss—releasing the clean, thick smell of forest in summer—her
breasts were quickly flattened by a sleek, sweating chest as Marc
fairly pounced her and she knew she’d done it right. Marc's ragged
breath stirred the long tendrils of hair that had fallen around
Yule's face.

"Do you have any idea how amazing you look
right now?" the man asked huskily. Yule shut her eyes as strong,
slender fingers dragged down her spine and settled over the curve
of her buttocks. A large palm massaged the firm muscle. "Your naked
body sprawled wantonly in the moss like this— It makes me want to
do bad things to you. Open your eyes."

“I—I can’t,” she admitted, biting her lower
lip. “No one’s ever said anything like—like what you said.”

“How many people have you been naked
with?”

Yule’s eyes flew open at that. “No one else—”
And she broke off, blushing and trying to repress a smile when she
saw the mischief in his eyes and realized he was teasing her. “I’m
just—not the kind of girl that gets said to,” she finished.

“I plan to say even more, like how edible
your breasts are and how I plan to lick and nibble every square
inch of you then do things you’ve only read or dreamed about,” he
teased further, the light of lust rising higher in his gaze. She
shivered at the sensual threat and at the touch that possessed and
demanded.

"Do them," Yule whispered, nerves alive with
need. She arched her back, driving her belly into his ramrod
stiffness. "Do all of it, do everything! I'm begging you!" And why
did that sound so familiar to her? What had she forgotten? What
voice was whispering—

“
The Wellspring would have a sense of her
true self. She would dream of her destiny, and she would recognize
the Font
,” Honoa’s voice returned to her.

Her legs were abruptly pushed apart, knees
shoved towards her body to open her as widely as possible. She
didn’t have time to feel embarrassed at the position because Marc
was suddenly licking her there. She cried out, burrowing her hands
into the moss as the slick wetness of the man's tongue traced
trails of liquid fire around her sensitive opening then pressed
between the sensitive folds. She whimpered and tried to move,
wanting more, wanting less—she didn't know. Marc's strong hands
tightened around her hips, holding her firmly so that she couldn’t
escape the intimate invasion. Yule let her head fall back on the
soft forest floor while the beating of her heart, his heart—no,
some greater heart than theirs, throbbed against her forehead and
filled her already whirling senses. Something wanted her to
remember—what?