Horn of the Unicorn Page 6

  And in that secret little part of her heart that she refused to look at too closely, she knew that she had already decided to do all that she could for him. The mere chance that the unicorn might be her dream lover, her bright angel, demanded her sacrifice, no matter how terrified she was. For a moment, she lost herself in thoughts of him, reliving the breathtaking, blissful memory of his rough-silk lips, his strong tongue and his avid mouth, from the night before when he’d so intimately pleasured her within her shower—when the stroking touch of Graedor’s palm along her side suddenly ripped her back to the present. Rushed her back to the startling reality of a smooth stone beneath her panty-covered bum, swaying trees, and a magnificent werewolf who looked down upon her as if she’d soon be his next meal. The fear clenched her muscles tight, her skin going cold and clammy—and yet, she knew she should be thankful he was here for her, as well as for this man or beast whom he called his blood brother, and that he would do everything within his power to make the coming event less painful.

  As odd as it seemed, she genuinely trusted Graedor the Grey, and her skin warmed the slightest fraction at that tiny, burning thought.

  Tess licked her lower lip, tracking him with her eyes, noticing the narrowing of his thick-lashed gaze as he watched the movement of her tongue. Then he shook his head, a small frown tilting the corners of his carnal mouth. “I swear by all the gods, that jackass is going to owe me for holding back when this is over.”

  She wanted to ask exactly what he meant by that, but her attention snagged on a soft, strange noise. “What was that?” she gasped, looking toward the place where she’d just heard a rustling sound, staring into the thick foliage of a towering mass of ferns on their left.

  Graedor’s golden eyes drilled into the gently swaying fronds, his thin nostrils flaring as he lifted his face and sniffed the air. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment, then slowly turned back to her, a dark, purely primitive expression washing over the rugged beauty of his utterly masculine features. Something deep inside her shivered at the angry hunger he forced down, but she could see it clearly, watch the way it swirled through the liquid gold of his eyes, and that inherent, wholly instinctive part of her soul recognized that it was not for her. She opened her mouth with a string of questions sitting upon her tongue, only to be cut off as he growled, “No.” He jerked his shoulders, hard, almost as if he could shake something off their broad width, and glared down at the soft grass swaying around his ankles, before finally raising his now-guarded gaze back to her. “It’s naught that you must concern yourself with, maiden,” he murmured softly, shaking his head at some unknown thought while his eyes darkened with emotion, obviously not as guarded as he’d have liked. “Just a wee, troublesome little pest which seems to plague me these days, wherever I go.”

  Before Tess could demand an explanation to the strange words, he moved around the head of the rock, standing behind her once again, his warm hands upon her shoulders urging her to lie back upon the stone, before taking her arms and placing them gently at her sides. He handled her carefully, and yet, his actions contained an unspoken purpose that she felt compelled not to question, almost as if some deep, unknown force urged her to give in, to give herself over. Then he leaned over her, blocking out her view of the swaying moss and leafy canopy, filling her vision with suddenly grinning, mischievous male, and her fingers curled into her damp palms until she could feel her short nails digging into her skin. Now a strange, fascinating fire seemed to ignite his brilliant gaze, and she had but a moment to marvel at what he would do, mere seconds to stiffen her muscles in anticipation of what was to come, before his large hands pulled down the satin cups of her bra and the sleek, hot heat of his mouth instantly opened over her right breast, pulling the nipple into the delicious, searing well, his sharp teeth scraping erotically over her firm, sensitive flesh. It was pain and pleasure all at once, and she didn’t know how to fight it, but she didn’t know how to accept it either.

  “Uhhnn!” she cried out, shocked into an utter stillness as his broad, tunic-covered chest and hard belly loomed over her face, his strong jaws working while his mouth feasted voraciously upon the bounty of her breasts.

  “I had not meant to go this far, maiden,” he muttered roughly against her sensitive nipple, while his long fingered hands suddenly settled against her ribs, coasting determinedly down her quivering, butterfly-filled stomach, then driving deliberately into the crease of her thighs. Tess had but a moment to marvel at the feel of him stroking the dampening satin at her crotch, before he clutched the delicate fabric in his hands and shredded it from her body. She jolted, jerking beneath him with an exhilarating combination of shock and uneasy arousal, while her hands automatically moved to his head, fisting into the warm, silken length of his hair, and he groaned in a gravel-filled voice, “But now that I’ve started, I cannot stop. Hell, I doubt that I could, even if I wanted to. This soft, sweet skin of yours feels far too good beneath my lips and hands.”

  With startling strength, Tess felt him effortlessly part her legs, pulling her knees up high and wide, forcing them to lie flat at her sides, but before she could protest the slight burn of pain, he released her right breast, leaving it to chill in the cool air, regretting the loss of his heat, as he quickly sucked her left nipple sharply against the roof of his mouth. It was a hot, blistering, biting kiss upon her breast, and from somewhere deep inside her shivering body, Tess heard the sharp, raw cries of sound that broke the tenuous hold of her lips, spilling from her throat. The sensual pull of his lips and tongue and teeth sent an arrowing spike of pleasure straight to her womb at the exact moment the calloused tips of his fingers stroked a long, glancing line down the moistening folds of her pussy—and something within jerked her hard, as if a string that connected her breast and sex had been tugged on sharply. Against her cheek, she felt another low, throaty growl vibrate from his chest. Her breath caught at the purely animal sound, yet amazingly, the need in her drove higher, spiking with a hard, insistent roar of approval, while her mind struggled with the reality that the hands and mouth upon her were not those of her warrior. Hell, they weren’t even human—they belonged to a werewolf—one who thankfully hadn’t gone furry on her. At least not yet.

  And yet, for the sake of her dream angel and her own fear of what was to come, she abandoned herself to the extravagant sensations and allowed them to sweep her along, to pull her deeper and deeper, thinking that if her heart had not already been captured by another, she could have easily fallen victim to the decadent charms of this gorgeous creature. He teased her with a second pass of his rough fingertips, a raspy, curling stroke of his wicked tongue upon her nipple, and then his fingers delved into her sex with the sureness of a man who knew his power over a woman, parting the thick labia, opening her to the cool night breeze.

  “For a virgin, maiden, you have one of the lustiest little cunts I’ve even known. Ripe and swollen, drenched with all this hot, syrupy cream.” His calloused fingertips skimmed over her, petting the puffy labia swollen with her arousal. “It’s just begging for a hard, thick shaft to break it open. Just waiting to get crammed full of cock and fucked until you flood with cum. Gods, what I wouldn’t give to see that,” he growled, a throaty, guttural edge to his words that sounded more animal than man.

  Tess shifted, struggling not to cry out as those knowing fingers stroked through the damp heat of her cleft, before settling intently on either side of her exposed, vulnerable clit. Then they moved closer, pinching inward, as he vised the small nub of thrumming flesh between his two index fingers, drowning her in feelings so delicious, they made her pulse with pleasure.

  “Oh yeah,” he drawled, his rough voice far too wickedly sexy for her peace of mind. “I told you, maiden, this hot little pussy wants cock—wants to be fucked so damn badly. That’s good, little one. Don’t fight it. If you’ll let me, I can make this go so much easier for you.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” she moaned breathlessly, arching her back, shamelessly forcing her
breast against his face as he once again began to suckle with potent, savage skill, his fingers wringing her clit of every blissful sensation as they began to rhythmically milk the drumming, insistent hunger within the tender nub. It was a sharp, eating ache that screamed to be fed, and Tess writhed beneath the burning lashes of ecstasy, feeling her pussy flood with slick, hot cream until she was soaked with it. It spilled from her clenching sheath until she could feel it dripping back into the crease of her bottom, wetting the insides of her thighs, making her feel decadent and wanton and free, while in her mind, she chanted over and over again, He must come for me. My warrior—the one who matters—he must come for me…come for me…come for me… But the scent of Graedor, all hot and musky and male, somehow familiar, filled her mind, making her head feel thick, and she groaned, wanting to pull him closer, pull him into her in ways she didn’t even understand.

  No! she shouted within the frantic confusion of her mind, feeling the barrier between dreams and reality begin to melt and distort, blurring the lines of perception. Damn it, she needed her beautiful warrior, now—not this devastating stranger! Needed the one who belonged to her, before she lost all sense of herself and drowned. Drowned beneath the crushing waves of lust battering her inexperience with such brutal, potent skill that she didn’t know how to survive it without falling. Without crashing and stumbling and slipping past some unknown point of no return, when all her heart could feel was him.

  She needed him to hold on to, because she knew, deep within, that everything she craved was both born and satisfied in this wanting of all that he was.

  “Svarqak, he’s probably going to kill me for this, but ‘twas too tempting to resist,” Graedor muttered against her wet, bruised nipple, his lips moving teasingly against her fever-hot skin as the husky words left his mouth. His gaze glanced suspiciously back to the bushes that she had heard rustle just a few moments before, while his fingers continued to work her clit, drilling the pleasure into her system with a relentless purpose that she was helpless to resist. He shoved her into the heat and hunger, unwilling to let her run or hide, and Tess almost hated him for it. Almost…but not quite, because beneath the fire was the knowledge that he was doing this for a purpose that went beyond the two of them.

  Wasn’t he?

  She lifted her head, and could just make out the curl of his lip as he snarled, “And the timing was too fucking sweet to let such an opportunity just pass by.”

  “What…timing?” Tess managed to gasp out from between her heavy, soughing breaths, struggling to follow his meaning.

  “Revenge, maiden.” He lifted and smiled down at her from upside down, all the while keeping his fingers pumping on either side of her clit, his hair hanging down around the rugged lines of his face like a golden veil, a perfect, sensuous contrast to the hard, cynical lines that framed his mouth and fanned the outer edges of those mesmerizing eyes. Her hips rolled, urging him to give her more, and when his smile widened in response, she could see the sharp points of his gleaming white canines. The smile reminded her of the Big Bad Wolf luring Little Red to her inescapable doom, but Tess was too far gone to beg him to stop. “I’m sure you know the power of its drive,” he rumbled, the deep, whiskey roughness of his voice seeming to promise some unspoken sin. “For the pleasure of your beautiful body and the sweet bliss of revenge, I’m willing to risk the bruising Zarnak will no doubt feel compelled to deliver.”

  “Zarnak?” she whispered, mystified at how the strange name alone sent a quiver of sizzling awareness racing up her spine that all too easily eliminated her fear—as if it were a warm, safe haven she could wrap around herself for protection.

  That mischievous little half-smile played once more at the edges of Graedor’s sensual mouth. “Like I told you before, someone you know well, little one.” He cocked his head to the side. “And if my sense is true, someone you’re about to meet any moment now.” His eyes narrowed then, even as his smile widened with wicked intent. “But not before I’ve truly had a taste of this lush little quim of yours. ‘Tis too decadent to ignore. Too tempting to forego a taste, considering the damn beast is going to kill me anyway, for going this far.”

  Tess shivered from the feral look that swam through the liquid gold of his gaze, and then her sight was blocked as his hard body bent over her, an impossibly thick, massive bulge beneath his leather leggings shoving hard against her shoulder. He made a deep, rumbling sound that seemed more animal than human—feral and wild—like a warning-filled snarl as his face pressed purposefully between her splayed thighs, and she had only seconds to catch her breath before his tongue swiped at the trapped, thrumming heat of her imprisoned clit with a slow, thorough lick.

  “Oh god!” she all but screamed, moaning raggedly, the keen sound nearly a sob, unable to keep from arching her pelvis into his face, even though the pleasure was distinctly different from that which she had known beneath the mouth of the man who’d claimed her soul. Graedor’s touch was exciting, yes, and yet, her mind was filled with only him, her bright angel, as if it were his own scalding tongue stroking her sex, lapping greedily at her cream-covered clit. He’d ruined her for other men—as if he’d placed a mark of ownership upon her, claiming her pleasure for no one but himself—and now she felt only his touch, no matter how sexually potent and gorgeous and talented the man above her might be.

  And god only knew this man was talented. He kept up that diabolical stroking as he began to torture her with hot, searing flicks of his moist, scratchy tongue, bringing her so near the brink of release that she began to feel lightheaded, her blood rushing so quickly through her veins she felt faint.

  “I’ve always loved the taste and feel of a woman,” he growled against her warmly pulsing flesh, licking her between words, as if too eager for her taste to resist. “Always loved the way it feels to fuck warm, willing cunt with my tongue—feel it pull tight with so much pleasure before it spills its rich, creamy cum into my mouth. Let’s see if you can give me that, little one. After what I’ve done for him tonight, I think I deserve it.”

  Tess moaned helplessly in response, too far gone to reply, and his tongue, slightly rough and warm, explored her with avid enjoyment and purpose, his face pressing tighter and tighter against her, until she knew he wore her slick cream on his cheeks and the strong angle of his chin, the hard line of his jaw. He seemed to take a truly desperate pleasure in her taste, in the sensation of her slippery juices within his hot mouth as he swirled his tongue through her folds, and there was no denying that it made her hot as hell. And yet, Tess knew, instinctively, that she would not come for him, no matter how fiercely she burned, how provocatively he asked for it. No, that part of her pleasure seemed to be locked away for another, and the realization was like a swift, fierce relief that urged her to relax…to allow Graedor his fill of her.

  That urged her to surrender everything and fall.

  And then suddenly she heard the thundering of the earth at the same moment the forest seemed to tremble in terrified fascination around them. The thick, sultry fog swirled around their bodies, the creatures in the trees chirping loudly in a chaotic chorus of anticipation as the rumbling thunder drew nearer…and nearer…and nearer, until finally Graedor groaned against the drenched flesh of her pussy, rubbing his forehead against her mound as if he were bemoaning the fact that his time had run out too quickly.

  “Bastard always was far too punctual for my liking,” he growled.

  Tess felt the corners of her lips lift in a shy, trembling grin at his adorable reaction, then instantly sobered, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. Damn, like there was anything adorable about having a werewolf shove his face in her private parts! This damn place was making her addled.

  She felt Graedor shift over her as he lifted slightly away from her body, his face tilting upward, looking straight in the direction of the thunder as it continued to move closer and closer, the rock jolting to the pounding rhythm beneath her, as if the very earth shook with primal violence.

&nbs
p; “Get ready, little mortal, because something tells me you’re about to meet the man who’s going to break you open—not to mention fuck your sweet little brains out against this rock.”

  “That’s quite an introduction,” she drawled dryly, then nearly swallowed her tongue as she saw a blinding flash of white and silver streaking toward them, so bright that she instinctively shut her eyes, afraid to open them. The forest fell eerily silent, the fine hair along the surface of her arms prickled with the sudden perception that she was about to experience something earth-shatteringly magnificent.

  Heaven help her, she was about to meet the unicorn.

  * * * * *

  Zarnak thundered into The Clearing, his every cell and sense focused completely upon the lush image of his woman draped over the center stone, her legs pulled open while Graedor’s mouth and chin glistened with her cream. A cold, deadly rage seared his veins, every muscle going taut with painful tension as he struggled not to deliver instant death with the power of the beast’s body to the man who had dared to touch what was his.

  She was here—real, not some blasted figment of his imagination—and he was going to wring that meddling grey wolf’s goddamn neck!

  I think that’s enough, he seethed through their telepathic link, struggling not to roar, filling the heavy silence with his animal anger. He didn’t want to frighten her to death, and he could already smell her growing unease on the air as it blended with the lush, intoxicating scent of her glistening little quim nestled there between trembling thighs held wide by Graedor’s dark hands.

  She pulsed with a ripe, fertile scent that nearly destroyed him with hunger—with violent, tearing need that threatened to overtake him at any moment. It was a sharp, shredding ache within his bones, roaring viciously through his veins. Something insistent and essential—not to be denied.