Her Reaper's Arms, Charlotte Boyett-Compo [world best books to read .TXT] 📗

she snarled at him, coming toe-to-toe with him. “Do

you hear me? I won’t have it!”

“But, sweeting, she—”

Her hands were suddenly all over him and Bevyn gasped at her ferocity. She was

snatching at his belt buckle, snagging down his fly, pushing the sweat-dampened

denims down his hips.

“Lea, what are you…?” he began before she slammed into him, reaching up to grab

his face between her hands to pull his mouth to hers.

Lea boldly thrust her tongue between her Reaper’s lips and ravaged his mouth, her

lower body grinding against his, his suddenly very attentive tool rising to the occasion.

He turned her so her back was to the upright, tearing his mouth free of her frenzied

kiss.

“Two can play at that, milady,” he said through gritting teeth, and swept her gown

up, his hard hand going under her chemise to pull it up as well.

The moment his fingers touched her core, Lea draped her arms around his neck and

pushed her feet off the stable floor. His free arm locked around her and he lifted her up,

her legs going around his waist as he held her against the upright.

“You are mine, Bevyn Coure,” she said.

“I am,” he agreed as he thrust himself up inside her. “You gods-be-damned better

believe I am!”

Her hands were tight in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. Her sheath was

squeezing him fiercely as he rode her, pushing her hard against the upright. His thigh

muscles were taut as he held her, his arms around her so tight it was hard to tell where

his body stopped and hers began. His legs were spread wide as he worked her up and

down on his hot, slick shaft and all the while their tongues were dueling, swirling

around one another.

Lea reveled in his broad, sweaty chest pressed against her. His was a clean, manly

scent that did wonderful things to her body and sent her into spasms of delight. She

could feel her channel tightening around his rod, beginning the series of tremors that

would bring forth such pleasure for both of them.

He nipped at her bottom lip and when her eyes widened, he swept his tongue over

the slight pain.

“I want to taste you,” he said huskily, and she knew he did not mean the musk that

lay between her thighs.

Unable to deny this man anything, Lea arched her head to one side, exposing her

neck to him.

Bevyn didn’t hesitate. He wanted the taste of her blood on his lips, in his mouth,

settling in his soul. He needed it for more than for just the carnal pleasure it would give

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him, give her. He needed it to bond with her as no other male ever would. His fangs

came out and he bit her—shallowly but enough to break the skin. Two tiny beads of her

sweet blood bubbled up and he retracted his fangs, latching his lips unto the tiny

wounds.

Lea tensed against him but the pain was so much more than the slight, momentary

discomfort. It brought with it a surge of sexual intensity that made her groan. She could

feel him drawing against her flesh, heard the soft swallow that told her he had

consumed her very essence.

“Bevyn,” she whispered, attached to him more at that moment than mere flesh to

flesh or body to body. She was being forged into him and she knew it.

The taste of her life force was so intoxicating he wanted to drown himself in it. He

had drank from her vein before, had taken all he needed so that no matter where she

went, where he went, he would be able to find her, track her, but he wanted to reinforce

that bonding, needed to tie her to him so irrevocably she would never give thought to

another man. Never would she be able to escape him now. Not even her thoughts could

escape him for he was able to hear her thoughts, speak to her even though they were

apart, and keep her safe in ways beyond the ordinary.

With her blood bursting down his throat, he felt his release pushing upward,

burning his cock in waves of exquisite agony. He shoved hard against her. Thrust

upward with such force she groaned for he had touched her very womb with his

straining.

“Come for me,” he hissed. “Come for me, my love.”

And she did in ripples of pleasure that gripped him with silken fingers that

squeezed and squeezed and squeezed until his cock jerked and he spurted long and

hard inside her. Straining against her until the last of him shot deep, he buried his head

against her shoulder, his chest heaving as he shuddered.

They stood there until his thigh muscles began to quiver and she unlocked her legs

from his waist and he allowed her to slide down, his arms still clasped around her.

He lifted his head. “Look at me, Lea,” he said.

She looked up into his golden eyes.

“These eyes may see another woman,” he said, “but these arms will never reach out

for her. This body will never hunger for her and this heart will never hold any save you

within it. Never question my love for you, Lea Walsh, for it is now the air I breathe and

the very blood coursing through my veins.” When she would have looked down, he put

a hand to her chin and held her face. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

“Aye, milord,” she said, “but you understand this—I might die in the trying but if

any woman ever dared try to take you from me, I would do my gods-be-damned best to

tear her apart.”

His smile was slow but filled with pride for her. “I don’t doubt that for a minute,

milady,” he said.

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“She will try to lure you away, Bevyn,” she warned him.

“She can try but she’ll not succeed,” he vowed. “You—and only you—are the one I

want.”

* * * * *

Penthe watched the Reaper and his lady as they came out of the stable. She sniffed

the air and caught the scent of sex permeating the couple. Digging her fingernails into

her palms, she watched them coming toward her and knew before ere he spoke what

the Reaper’s words would be.

“This is my lady,” he told her. “I