Vulcan's Woman (9 page)

She hadn’t experienced pain, not as she’d fearfully
anticipated. The plunge actually shocked her more than it hurt because it was
accompanied by a snug fullness she couldn’t comprehend. To feel so stuffed was…
She’d never realized the amount of nerves hidden inside her and as she lay
completely still, her insides constricting around his shaft, every single one
came alive at that exact moment. Not only did she yearn for something more but
what she’d thought was an exclusive passage for a man’s pleasure turned out to
be a pleasure for her as well. How could making love elicit so many exciting
sensations?

“Wisteria?”

“I’m okay,” she replied through a breathless sigh. Was it
over? Was he done? She hoped not because even though wonderful things were
happening, something appeared to be missing. “Are you finished already?” She
opened her eyes to see a genuine smile emerge, brightening his shadowed
features.

“Do you hope I’m finished?”

She bit down on her lower lip and shook her head.

“Good, because I haven’t even started.”

Ever so slowly he began to withdraw his cock. Her vaginal
walls closed only to blossom when he reinserted his rod. He worked each stroke
differently, rolling his hips during one then slithering straight forward upon
the next. During each gentle motion he slipped a little deeper until he
dead-ended into something inside her and stopped. “Vulcan, it doesn’t fit,” she
said through a labored breath.

“We’ll make it fit,” he replied right before he planted a
gentle kiss to her lips. “It’s your cervix. It’s forgiving.”

He slid his hand beneath her thighs and maneuvered her knees
to the outside of her waist. When both rested at her sides she grabbed her
kneecaps and held them in place, unbelievably deepening his penetration where
he slipped completely inside. The position opened an entirely new realm of
sensations and nerves. They caressed his soft skin with each glide inside her.
The constant friction ignited sparks. Sparks of desire. Her hunger peaked. She
moaned and closed her eyes, focusing on the exquisite feelings. How could she
have ever suspected something so wonderful would hurt?

She gasped as his thick shaft nudged her
cervix
then
withdrew, then rolled forward into place. Instinctively she rocked her hips in
contrast to his, trying to force him impossibly deeper. Passion and pressure
built in her tummy and chest. She needed more than he was giving to make the
force burst. She’d brought herself to this point with her fingers and
remembered the fascinating outcome very well. This was much more intense and
unless he increased his pace she wouldn’t reach the magical ending. “Vulcan, go
faster. Don’t be afraid. You won’t hurt me. I swear,” she whimpered. She opened
her eyes. She needed to see his reaction. She just had to.

Sweat bathed his brows, his jaw was firm and his heavy
breaths sliced the air. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He captured her gaze, his lids narrowed, features tensed and
he languidly slid his cock in and then just as slowly pulled it out. “Stop me
if I hurt you.”

She doubted that would happen but she’d agree so he wouldn’t
reconsider. Nodding once more, she laid her palm on his face and glided her
thumb across his bottom lip. “I will.”

All at once his hips gained momentum and he increased the
speed and depth of the strokes. One after another pounded inside her. Deeper.
Faster. She was so wet he slid easily despite his size. “Ahh, just like that,”
she whimpered, rocking her bottom to his pace.

She licked her lips while slapping her hands on his rear end
and squeezing his flexed cheeks, pressing him tighter between her thighs. The
friction caused sparks, like rubbing sticks together when starting a fire, and,
mercy, she was burning. Then suddenly the pressure rushing through her blood
erupted, washing over her like a powerful wave. A brilliant, colorful haze
hovered in the wake and her mind seemed to detach. “Vulcan!” she cried, her
body trembling, overcome by shattering prickles.

Her belly jerked and her insides contracted, squeezing his
cock. His long strokes turned into short, quick jabs despite her inner walls
clutching him, trying to pull him deep. He tilted his head back and he groaned,
shoving his shaft in her to the hilt, spreading her wide.

She threw her arms around his back, holding him tightly,
digging her nails into his skin. She refused to let go, even when he brought
his lips to hers and kissed her tenderly, brushing his thumbs along her temples
until the very last tremor rolled through her limbs.

A subtle smile brightened his shadowed expression, followed
by a tender kiss to her brow. “Are you all right?”

Yes, better than
all right
. She survived an act she’d
feared the moment she’d been captured and brought to his home.

Dragging her bottom lip between her teeth, she nodded.
Having given herself freely to a man who treated her kindly, and who, by the
look in his eyes, adored her, had made a difference for her
first
time.
What might have happened with Sledge…she couldn’t think about. She didn’t want
to steal attention from Vulcan, who remained on top of her yet held his weight
in such a way he seemingly appeared as light as a feather.

Tonight she realized her life had been bridled with
misconceptions. One of the Barbarians she’d feared had shared in the best
experience of her life and had taken her beyond her expectations with his
gentle hands and body. With his gaze now roaming her facial features and cock
still embedded inside her, she wasn’t sure she wanted to live another day
without him. Maybe one day he’d feel the same and would agree to give her
babies.

“What are you thinking, Wisteria?”

“Nothing really.” She released her hold on his back and
brushed long strands of hair from his face, tucking them behind his ears. “I’m
just reliving what we shared.”

“It’s a beautiful thing.”

More than she’d ever imagined. “Yes, but the moonlight
hasn’t yet faded to sunlight.”

He patted his lips to hers then smiled. “Nor am I finished
with you,” he whispered, pressing his hips forward, forcing his flaccid cock
deeper. “A man needs a few moments to regroup.”

Even as he spoke, his shaft began to harden, stretching her
vaginal walls while expanding toward her cervix. Feeling him grow deep inside
her was the most incredible sensation.

He kissed each brow at the sound of her soft moans. His
lips, warm and enticing, made a path to her ear then lower to her throat where
he buried his face.

“Tell me when daylight arrives, Wisteria.”

Vulcan lifted himself off Wisteria and lay on his back
beside her. His arms grew numb from bearing his weight for such a long period
of time. If he wasn’t worried they’d collapse and he’d crush her, he wouldn’t
have moved.

Exhaustion obviously robbed her of strength because she
hadn’t flinched when he rolled off.

He lay there a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists,
drawing blood to his fingers. It’d been awhile since his hands had such an
extensive workout.

“Are you all right, Wisteria?” He sat up then leaned
forward, placing his lips on her forehead.

“Mm-hmm.”

The subtle tone came through as a sigh of contentment. A
satisfied purr. Grinning, he stood and stepped into the loincloth. He’d rather
lie with her but he needed to take a walk outside.

Sensing her eyes on his backside, he glanced over his
shoulder while adjusting the loincloth at his waist. She lay motionless, her
skin glowing from the aftereffects of their lovemaking. Her lids were swollen
in a sultry mix of passion and fatigue. Those eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes
were a reflection of the sky. They sparkled with an abundance of life and
discovery. When she stretched, arching her back and rubbing her bottom into the
fur, his cock twitched but it was too soon to take her again. She’d reached her
limitations. The woman needed sleep.

Her body was spent, possibly sore and definitely swollen
from overuse. She’d endured more than she should have during her first sexual
encounter. Fact was he couldn’t keep his damn hands off her. Nor had she seemed
to mind.

The short periods in between couldn’t have been considered a
break, because when not penetrating her with his cock he’d penetrated her with his
fingers. They’d made love for hours with no lapse in time.

He glanced through the ventilation opening in the roof. The
sky had turned to a light shade of gray, indicating that within the hour the
moonlight would have completely faded to sunlight, proving he’d almost reached
his goal.

He walked across the hut to the corner where he kept an
abundance of supplies in a wicker crate. He glanced at the little creature
still asleep in the pen before he retrieved a small cloth from a stack of
numerous-sized pelts. He then held it beneath the waterfall streaming from the
back wall until it became saturated. He twisted it, removing the excess water,
then approached Wisteria and squatted near her outer knee.

Her gaze wavered over his face as he, with a tender hand,
spread her legs. “This is going to be cold,” he said as he cleansed the body
fluids from her inner thighs. Surprisingly she didn’t flinch. Nor did she
recoil when he pressed the cloth against her delicate flesh and held it in
place.

Instead her eyes closed and she gasped, the sound barely a
pitch higher than the flutter of a breath. “Hold me,” she said, her voice a
whisper.

If he hadn’t been brushing his gaze along her beautiful
features, he wouldn’t have known she spoke.

“Shhh,” he said as he lay on top of her. He placed his hand
on the side of her face and began caressing her brow with his thumb from one
end to the other. “Shhh,” he soothed as she began relaxing. During each
featherlight stroke, her shoulders faded into the fur hide.

She sighed just before her lips slightly parted and her
breathing deepened. “I’m not…”

Her words slipped away, along with her body, into slumber.

He rolled off her onto his side and watched her eyes dance
beneath her lids. He brushed his fingers across the tender flesh. She had such
soft skin. Firm but soft. Slight definition stretched from her rib cage to
lower abdomen. He’d discovered those contours during the night, for he’d left
not a single inch of her untouched. He’d found her sensitive areas, ticklish
spots and a small section at the very base of her neck near her clavicle that
fully unleashed her inhibitions.

Glancing at her now, he couldn’t fathom how torn her belly
and thighs were when he’d ridden into camp holding her on his lap. It was
harder to fathom why he hadn’t killed the bastard who’d beaten her. Three
cracks of a whip were three too many. When he slammed the lug into the tree he
meant it as a warning. Now he wished he would’ve acted more aggressively and
disabled him permanently.

Vulcan would never forget her screams. He’d been in the
immediate vicinity with three tribal groups, searching the land for evidence of
the quakes. Without a doubt he knew the cries of pain belonged to Wisteria.
After he’d charged in and saw her strung between those trees he tasted blood.
Damn him for not killing the bastard. The only thing on Vulcan’s mind—carry her
to safety.

If he hadn’t personally watched the creature heal her wounds
he would’ve never believed it possible. What kind of powers did the animal
possess? Why had it attached itself to Wisteria? She might have found it but
that wasn’t reason enough to hunt her down and make itself at home.

She murmured and rolled onto her side, tucking both hands
beneath her cheek. “Vulcan?” she said softly, curling her knees to her chest.

He placed his hand on the side of her face and caressed her
cheekbone. “I’m here,” he replied although he knew she’d called to him in her
sleep.

“Ack.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the pen and saw the
creature’s eyes peeking over the wall. It hadn’t stood that tall last night
when he’d built the small enclosure. Be damned, it had grown at least an entire
head taller.

Vulcan grinned while taking a stance. “I’m not hurting her.
Now hush before you wake her up.”

Its head tilted side to side. Its mouth opened. As if it
understood, it offered a subdued, “
Aaaccckk
.”

“You got something to say?” Vulcan approached the pen and
lifted the little Birmontoeye level. “She got it right. You
look half bird, half monster.”

It blinked.

So did Vulcan because he swore the bat-winged, long-tailed,
spiked-spined creature grinned.

Lack of sleep, perhaps?

Spike.
It seemed a more appropriate name. A more
masculine name too for an animal bound to grow who knew how big.

Vulcan set him on the ground and headed toward the entrance.
When he reached the leather flap he pulled it aside and spun around. The
creature remained right where he’d been placed. “Come on, Spike,” he said,
nudging his head outside. “Let’s find something to eat.”

Still the animal didn’t move.

“His name is Birmon,” Wisteria mumbled.

Vulcan peered over his shoulder. She was rolling herself in
the fur and settled on her hip, the back side of her head facing the doorway.

“He looks more like a Spike,” he insisted.

“He’s a Birmon.”

Fine.
He wasn’t about to argue with a semi-sleeping
woman. They were difficult enough to disagree with when awake.

Vulcan nudged his head a second time. “Come on,
Birmon
.”

The little guy flapped his wings and darted across the hut,
falling snout first into the ground.

“Told you,” Wisteria grouched.

Yeah, well…forget it.
It was best to leave it at
that.

It took the creature only one attempt to right himself. He
shook off the tumble then waddled past Vulcan’s feet and out the doorway. “No
meat,” he forewarned Birmon as he followed him toward the fire pit. “Vegetation
only. I don’t need you growing up feeding on my tribe.”

He already knew it liked blood. Apparently Wisteria’s blood.
Still, Birmon’s ability to heal her wounds mystified him. Had it eaten an
abundance of yarrow leaves? All jesting aside, he caught up to the unique
creature, lifted him in his arms and carried him into the forest.

Unique he was. Vulcan hadn’t witnessed such unusual
abilities since the chameleon species attacked.

He glanced skyward then brought Birmon level to his eyes and
examined him closely. Rounded snout. Webbed feet with talons. Vampire-bat
wings. What an odd mixture of rodents. “What are you?”

The wings along with his apparent taste for blood explained
the vampire similarities but it failed to explain why he’d licked Wisteria’s
blood rather than sinking his teeth into a vein.

He set Birmon down in a section of tall sweet grass beside a
raspberry bush. While he buried his nose in the tall weeds, Vulcan turned and
relieved himself on a tree trunk.

After he shook his cock then tucked it back inside the
loincloth he squatted and assessed the creature. Birmon sniffed the bush,
sticking his snout deep within the center, but quickly withdrew it, shaking his
head. For the hell of it, Vulcan placed his cut directly beneath Birmon’s
nostrils. Birmon sniffed and sniffed the dried blood but made no attempt to
lick his skin clean.

“I don’t blame him,” a male chuckled at Vulcan’s back. “I
wouldn’t want to taste your flesh either.”

Vulcan smirked and shook his head. Placing his hands on his
knees, he pushed himself into a stance, spinning just enough to see his team
member Bronto approaching from the direction of the fire. “It’s blood.”

“Well then, I guess he doesn’t want to taste your body
fluids.”

“Don’t you have something better to do? Like sit at your
post and guard the camp?” Vulcan ran a hand through his hair and glanced at
Birmon, who was tilting his head back and forth, studying both men. “It appears
he only likes Wisteria’s blood.”

Bronto folded his hands behind his back and came to a stop
at Vulcan’s side, looking him in the eye. “The woman?”

“Yes.”

“Excuse me for saying so, sir, but she’s much prettier than
you are. I understand the animal’s preference.”

“You can knock off the
sir
shit, Bronto. We’re not
near the primates. Treat me as your equal when we’re alone.”

“Yes
sir
.” Bronto laughed and lifted Vulcan’s arm,
examining the cut. “So you took it for her, did you?”

“Hell yeah. I wasn’t letting Grunt anywhere near her. Pure Barbarian
blood rushes through that man’s veins. He could have seriously hurt her.”
Vulcan grinned and again shook his head. “Think they noticed?”

“No. I wondered how you were going to pull it off,” Bronto
responded, lowering Vulcan’s hand to his side. “I tried watching closely, but
your big ass was in the way.”

“Then I guess it worked.” None of the men in their unit
understood Vulcan as well as Bronto. They’d worked side by side for the past
nine years in the Special Forces and built a relationship around trust. Who
better to watch his back than the man he trusted with his life? Their bond
stretched beyond the boundaries of coworker or comrade. They were more like
brothers. During any given situation they could call each other’s next move and
knew what reaction to expect. It was like having a wife.

Tyran, the brainy scientist, kept to himself most of the
time, studying objects then hiding in his hut to jot notes. Trice, the
overachiever, should have been an actor. He played his tribal part well by
displaying fear of his leader when in the presence of the true tribesmen. Then
there was Zypher, the curious wanderer who jumped in with both feet, wanting to
play the bad guy and go to battle.

“What an unusual animal,” Bronto said as he squatted in
front of Birmon. He held out his hand for the creature to smell. “What do you
suppose it is?”

Vulcan watched as Birmon sniffed Bronto’s fingers. “I’ve
been trying to figure that out, but if he hurts my woman, his days are
numbered.”

“Ah, your woman.” Bronto chuckled as he tilted his head and
glanced at Vulcan. “Lusting, are you?”

“You already know it. I’ve been watching her long enough.”

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but,” he
switched his gaze to Birmon, “she’s as unusual as this creature.”

Vulcan raised a brow. “You’ll explain that remark.”

“You said she swims on the serpent’s back, and she also
summons it by singing.”

“Yes.”

“These animals are attached to her. Do you think she
possesses secret abilities or some type of power?”

“Absolutely. She has the ability to
em
power.” Vulcan
smiled. Hell, he understood the creature’s reason for attachment. “If she did,
I’m sure she would’ve made us disappear by now. She wasn’t too happy when we
rode into her camp.” He turned on his heels and glanced toward his hut. “Speaking
of the little woman, I’d better get back.” He gripped Bronto’s hand and pulled
him to his feet. “And you need to retake your post. If you see any more
mutants, kill them. Don’t summon me for permission first.”

“What do you think is happening to them? All three so far
appeared to be men from the flesh-eating tribe.”

“Who knows.” Vulcan ran a hand through his hair. “Tyran’s
been experimenting with samples of their blood and tissue. I hope he’ll have
answers soon.”

“Despite looking creepy, they seem harmless. They’re more
like zombies than mutants,” Bronto said matter-of-factly. “If given a choice, I’d
rather mess with them than run into that chameleon species again.”

“You and me both, but don’t let your guard down. We haven’t
let them survive long enough to witness their full capabilities.”

“Don’t take this personally, Vulcan,” Bronto added with a
grin. “But if you start wandering around looking like that, I’m decapitating
you.”

Vulcan laughed. “Likewise. Now go. Come on, Birmon. We’re
going to bed.”

Unfortunately when Vulcan stopped and removed a chunk of
rabbit from the stew that still simmered over the fire, Birmon refused to eat
it. Instead he’d lifted his snout in the air, waddled to the hut and lay down
outside the doorway.

What animal refused meat? Obviously Birmon wasn’t
carnivorous as Vulcan had suspected. Dropping the hunk into his mouth, he
strolled to his hut, pulled back the flap and waited until Birmon stepped
inside. “Pen,” Vulcan said, pointing at the walls of fur.