Shadow Rising (Dark Dynasties #3)

Another point in her favor. What was he going to do with her?

“You’re incredibly rude. I have no idea why you make me feel better.”

“I was waiting for you, you know,” he admitted. “You could have moped at me, instead of sitting out here alone.”

“I guess I needed some time. And… I’m not really used to anyone listening to me when I feel like this. But I’m glad you came looking for me.”

She snuggled into him again, and Damien curved his body into hers, surprised at the simple pleasure of holding her. The night was silent around them, the air soft and fragrant. It felt like they were the only two people in the world, and Damien found himself wishing that might be true, if only for a few more days. Or forever.

Oh, blast.

“Damien?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks. For being here. I’m glad I’m not alone anymore.”

Her words resonated somewhere deep inside of him, in the empty spaces he had long ago come to accept were just a part of him. And he realized, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t alone either. The need to be with her, to forge something beyond this fragile bond that had been created between them, was impossible to turn away from.

Fighting it as hard as he had been was more trouble than it was worth. He accepted it without much fuss from what passed for his conscience, and with a relief that surprised him. He still thought she was daft for wanting him, but it was past time to be trying to run her off. It wasn’t going to work, and he was still going to spend most of his waking moments consumed with her in some capacity.

Beneath the stylish trappings, he was a practical man. That, and a healthy self-interest, made him good at his job and good at getting what he wanted. Whether the impulse was a bad idea or not, he wanted Ariane. That wasn’t going to change.

It was time to take steps to keep her.

Damien searched Ariane’s beautiful face, the violet eyes completely focused on him, waiting for any prickle of warning, any sign that he was about to make a big mistake. But there was nothing, only comfort, pleasure. A sense of exquisite peace.

So he slipped his hand beneath her chin, rubbing a thumb over lips as soft as a flower petal, and told her with his kiss what he didn’t know how to say in words. Her response to him was immediate, so honest and open that he still wondered how he had merited affection from such a woman. Time was past for questioning it, though.

The kiss deepened, and Ariane slipped her arms over his shoulders, sliding her fingers into the hair at the sensitive nape of his neck. Everything within him went loose and fluid at her touch, flooding him with warmth. She moaned softly, the sound a plea for more. It stoked the hunger in him, seemingly endless, and always for her. Her hands, as light as a butterfly’s wings, stroked his neck, his face, his shoulders.

When he slid his hand up to cup her breast, she arched into his touch while he teased her tongue with his own. She sighed into his mouth.

“Let’s go back to the house,” she said. “I need you.”

He shuddered, those words as pleasurable as a caress. But he had no intention of taking her back to the house, full of people. He wanted her here, alone… his. What was to be done would happen here, just the two of them in the dark.

“I’ve got you all to myself right now,” he murmured. “Do you really think I’m going to give that up?”

He toyed with the hard little bud of her nipple when she pulled back to look at him. “But… we’re in a graveyard.”

He chuckled and dropped a kiss on her cheek, then on her jaw. “It’s just grass and stone, kitten. Pretend we’re in a park.”

“A park,” she sighed as his mouth played against sensitive skin, tilting her head back to allow him better access. “I could try that.”

He nibbled at the soft skin of her neck. “Mmm. No one watching but the squirrels.”

She laughed, and the sound rippled through him, making him smile.

“That’s… creepy.”

“You’re right,” he murmured. “Forget the creepy squirrels. Just focus on me.”

“With pleasure.”

There were so many things he wanted to teach her, show her. If there was one thing he understood, it was pleasure. Funny how he had never cared much about anyone else’s until he had found her.

Damien kissed her again, allowing the feel of her, the taste of her to become everything. Every care and worry faded until there was nothing but the two of them, entangled in the grass.

Her need was so raw, so unguarded, that it fueled his own. Every small gasp she made, every moan was music to him. He took one of her hands in his own and guided it down, pressing it against the rigid bulge between his legs.

“See what you do to me, Ariane,” he breathed, his breath catching when she stroked him, pressing firmly against him with the palm of her hand.

“I know,” she breathed. “I like making you hot.”

He gasped as she changed her rhythm just slightly, making the muscles in his stomach tighten. “I’ve corrupted you. Utterly.”

“Yes. Thank you,” she said, flicking her tongue over his earlobe, then biting just hard enough to hurt. He surged against her hand, suddenly more aroused than he’d ever been in his life.

“Enough,” he ground out, pulling her hand away. “I want to take my time with you. I want to make you burn like I do.”

“I want you,” she confessed, rising to her knees in front of him. “All the time.”

He thought that he had never heard sweeter words.

“Then you shall have me, kitten. Turn around and hang on to the stone.”

She obliged him without question, though there was a moment’s hesitation when he realized she was reading the name of whatever poor sod was buried somewhere beneath them.

“He doesn’t care,” Damien said. “And if there are any ghosts here, they’re cheering us on. Close your eyes, darling.” He positioned himself behind her, sliding his hands up her thighs and gathering up fabric beneath them as he went. He drew the material up over the silky little pair of underpants she wore and stopped breathing for a moment at the sight of her firm, rounded little ass.

“Hmm. These are lovely, but they’re going to get in my way.” He extended his claws, and with quick precision sliced the fabric at her hips so that the two pieces fell to the ground beneath her. Then he reached beneath her to stroke and tease, finding her already deliciously wet. She shivered at his touch, and he saw her hands reflexively grip the top of the stone harder. He played her expertly, flicking a teasing finger over the tight little bud of her sex, then slipping it inside of her and back again. Her hips began to rock back against him, pressing hard into his hand. His own breath began to come in short, sharp little pants.

When he slipped his finger inside of her again, she came with a broken cry, arching back into him. Damien withdrew quickly when her climax began to ebb, shaking with need of his own. Her reactions to him were so open, holding nothing back, and here, in this, he would do no less for her.

“Don’t move,” he instructed her. She seemed to melt against the stone as he stood.

“Don’t worry, I can’t,” she told him, her voice thick with pleasure.

He smiled and removed his clothes as quickly as he could. Kneeling behind her, he pulled her back against him, sliding his cock between her legs. She tensed reflexively, and his eyes nearly crossed with the pleasure. All this, and he wasn’t even inside of her yet. He unzipped the dress. Wordlessly, she straightened and lifted her arms, allowing him to lift it over her head. Both that and her bra were quickly tossed to the side.

“So beautiful. I can’t bloody think with you naked and on your knees,” he growled. Then he pulled her hips back into him and thrust inside of her, burying himself all the way to the hilt. Ariane gasped, and her muscles clenched around him. Damien’s mouth opened in a silent shout, and he only barely clung to what little control he had left. She was so hot, so very tight.

Slowly, he began to move in her, his every thrust and withdrawal provoking the sweetest sounds from Ariane. He kept his rhythm measured, contained, not wanting to overwhelm her by pinning her against the headstone and slamming into her until he was spent.

Then she reached back to squeeze one of the hands gripping her hips, looking over her shoulder with an expression that was pure heat.

“More,” was all she said.

He couldn’t have disobeyed her even if he’d wanted to. As soon as she turned her head away, Damien tipped his head back, dug his fingers into her hips, and began to move in hard, deep thrusts that rocked her body. He felt his chest beginning to vibrate with the purr that was always close to the surface when Ariane was near, losing himself in waves of increasingly intense pleasure. He took her harder, harder, until her hands had slid to the ground and she was on all fours in front of him, allowing him to drive deeply inside of her.

He faintly heard Ariane gasp his name as she tightened around him. The thread of his control, already gossamer thin, snapped completely. He withdrew, grabbed Ariane, and dragged her to the ground beneath him, driving into her with such force that she cried out.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All that mattered was Ariane, taking her, keeping her, making her his in a way no one would ever be able to question.

Every inch of her body was pressed against his, tensed at the edge of a climax he knew would shatter them both. Beneath him, her eyes were heavy-lidded, fire bright with need, and her pale skin was flushed with exertion. Her mark, her wings, stood out in stark relief near her neck. The sight of them stirred the beast inside of him that he had always kept at bay. Until now.

He began to thrust into her again, his hips moving quickly as he pushed them both toward climax. Pure animal instinct had him lowering his head, putting his teeth to the soft skin of her throat. Her felt her press a hand to the back of his neck, urging him on.

“Yes,” she whispered.

For once in his long, sorry life, there was no hesitation. He knew exactly what he wanted. Her.