Marked by Moonlight (15 page)

She knew as she stared at him that the moment had come. He would either take her, accept the fire that existed between them, or turn and walk away.

He dropped his hand, extending it to her. The gesture signified his decision had been made. There would be no going back now.

Helpless to her desire, to the need he roused within her, she placed her hand in his and rose to her feet. As long as the lycan curse grasped her firmly in its clutches, she was helpless to resist. At least that's what she told herself as she drank passion greedily from his lips.

Her arms snaked around his neck, his skin smooth and warm beneath her arms. He ravaged her mouth, never breaking the kiss as he lifted her in his arms. She was hardly aware of the slight jarring motion as he carried her up the stairs.

He followed her down onto his bed, trapping her between the soft mattress and his hard body, their lips fused together.

Desperation simmered just beneath the surface, making their movements rushed, feverish, their handling of each other rough.

Their clothes melted away. He slid between her legs with expert precision and everything slowed as she stared at this too beautiful man in the moon's glow. Her breath caught at the sight of him looming above her, the heat of his gaze, the impossible breadth of his shoulders, the narrow waist and sculpted belly.

He traced her collarbone, the slope of her shoulders, the swells of her breasts. His touch gentled, reverent as a prayer as he forged a burning trail with the callused pads of his fingers, exploring each rib, feeling their length and width, driving her mad, frantic. His thumbs drifted upward, grazing the undersides of her breasts in teasing strokes.

“Gideon,” she moaned.

He kissed her again and she felt his smile against her mouth as he took her swollen mounds into both hands. She gasped as he squeezed, testing their fullness. He bent, sucking her nipples until they stood pebble hard. A low keening moan rippled from deep in her throat. The sound more animal than woman. Desire, white hot, shot through her and she arched under him.

He broke away to crush his mouth over hers. Their kisses grew wild, starved for the taste of each other. She thrust her hips against him. He answered by nudging her thighs farther apart with one knee.

Sliding her hand between them, she gripped him, flexing her fingers around the thick length of him. His harsh gasp excited her and she stroked him, fingers gliding over him in fast strokes.

He moaned into her mouth, the rigid length of him pulsing in her hand. She teased his head against her opening and he nudged the tip against her. Panting, her fingers dug into his shoulders.

He sat up and placed her on her knees before him, his hands smoothing over each rounded cheek before biting the tender flesh. A growl ripped free from deep in her throat at the feel of his teeth on her. The ache inside her grew, throbbing, burning, and she spread her thighs, thrusting herself back and rubbing her bottom against his erection.

Her hands dug into the bed covers. He pulled her back by the hair, kissing the arch of her throat. She reached behind her and grabbed his cock, stroking the engorged shaft, running her thumb over its plump head, guiding him toward her.

He groaned, a deep animal sound of need.

He probed at her opening from behind, parting her slick folds with the swelled head of him. Unable to stop herself, she pushed back, impaling herself on him.

He locked one muscled arm around her waist and held himself there for a moment, buried in the tight heat of her. His warm chest rested against her back, his heart beating fast and strong into her, a distant drum that echoed the pounding of her own pulse.

He swiped free the hair from her neck and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her nape as he began to move. His hand sought her breasts, cupping them as he plunged into her. Again and again.

“Harder,” she begged, rocking back to meet his every thrust.

His hands carried their own special heat, branding her, singeing her breasts as he fondled and squeezed her nipples as he moved in and out of her.

Her flesh rippled with heightened sensation. Waves of searing heat flowed through her body like rolling lava. Her fingers went numb where they clutched the covers, tearing the fabric. She whimpered, beyond pleasure, beyond pain as the movements increased, grew more frenzied.

“Oh God,” she groaned, her skin burning, the ache in her growing, expanding.

This wasn't normal. It had
never
felt this good before. She would have remembered. She moved wildly, slamming back against him, aching for…something.

His hands tightened on her breasts.

His thrusts grew harder. Faster. Fierce. This was no gentle joining. Her body demanded a desperate, furious union of flesh. Nothing less. She tilted her hips, clenching her inner muscles around his sliding heat, trying to get more, trying to reach that elusive hurdle.

His fingers slid from her breasts to dig into her hips. “Go on,” he rasped. “Come. Come for me.”

Whimpering, she dropped her head, letting herself relax into the steady build of tension tightening through her. The pressure increased, building. He swiped the hair from her shoulders again and dragged his mouth over the sensitive skin.

Every muscle in her body suddenly squeezed and contracted. She cried out as shudders racked her, took her soaring over that final precipice. Arched under him, she stilled, his back a hard wall at her back, the only thing grounding her to earth.

His hands circled her waist and he bucked behind her, thrusting several more times, pouring his liquid heat inside her. His groan rumbled through him into her as if they were one. And in that moment, they were.

Panting, she collapsed into the bed bonelessly, the hot length of him still inside her.

His body came down over her, a crushing, delicious weight, the fan of his breath warm against her spine.

Never more sated or content, her eyes drifted shut.

 

The gentle tapping of rain on the window woke her. She stretched, spine arching, her hand seeking out the warm body beside her. Her palm flattened over the supple skin of his back. She could feel his lifeblood rushing just below skin and sinew.

He had held her a long while before rolling onto his side. She hadn't known the rapture could last, that a man's strong arms could feel so good around her. Better in some ways than the actual sex. With Brian there had been no cuddling after sex. To be honest, there'd hardly been sex.

Sighing, she slid her hand off his back and slipped out of bed, for some reason moved to do so. Guided by a force she could not identify, she stopped before the window, standing where the rug didn't reach. Her feet shifted on the wood floor, absorbing the cold. Through the part of the curtains, she looked up at the night sky, at the object calling to her. Gray clouds scuttled across the black night, but the moon glowed a hole right through them. It loomed large and godlike overhead, its beam seeming to locate her specifically. Almost full. Only a sliver more and it would be a complete orb. She shivered and hugged herself.

“Come back to bed.” His voice sounded behind her, thick and scratchy with sleep.

Wordlessly, Claire turned and slid back into bed. He tucked her against his side and she marveled at the strangeness of it all. She'd shared a bed with a man before but not like this. She didn't remember this intimacy, this—

Her mind shied away from the word
love
, but there it was, intruding and insinuating itself into her heart and head where it had no business being. Not without the possibility of a future.

She shifted beside him, smiling at the twinge of soreness between her legs, a tantalizing reminder of all that had occurred. Her smile slipped as a thought occurred to her.

“Gideon,” she began. “We didn't use protection.”

“No worries. You can't get pregnant. And I'm disease free. NODEAL requires yearly physicals. They test for everything—from cancer to STDs. An agent has to be in peak physical condition.”

Claire nodded, tracing small circles over his chest. “And why aren't you worried about getting me pregnant?”

“Lycans and humans cannot procreate. It's like trying to breed two different species. A lycan and human can never produce offspring. If it were possible, it would already have happened. Sadly, plenty of lycans have raped humans. Such a savage act goes hand in hand with their vicious nature.”

“I see.” Hearing herself lumped into the
nonhuman
category sent a chill to her heart. Her gaze drifted to the window, at the nearly full moon looking down on them.

“You can't help but look at it, can you?” His deep voice, faintly sad, resigned, jarred her and it took a moment for his meaning to sink in.

“I feel like it's calling me,” she confessed. “I want to wipe it from the sky.”

“I know,” he sighed. After a long moment, he added, “Crazy how we know next to nothing about the very thing that controls our lives.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the moon controls the tides, affects the weather, crops, our moods—”

“And now my soul,” she added bitterly.

“Yes.” He sighed. “Ironic that she only reveals herself to us in part, isn't it? We only ever get to see one side of her. We never see the dark side of the moon. No one has.”

“The dark side of the moon,” Claire whispered. She didn't even want to see the side visible—the side growing more visible with every passing moment. As far as she was concerned, the dark side could stay just that. Dark. Unknown.

Pushing thoughts of the moon away, she splayed a hand over his washboard belly, enjoying the way his muscles contracted beneath her fingers. Pressing her ear to his heart, she listened to the strong, steady beat and asked one of the questions that had plagued her. “Do you know how your mother got infected?”

His heart thumped harder beneath her ear and she felt his stomach muscles dance and ripple under her palm. A long moment passed. Claire bit her lip and waited.

“I'm not sure. She never showed any signs of being attacked or bitten.” The rich rumble of his voice vibrated against her ear. She felt him shrug. “Sometimes I wonder if Cooper knows more than he's telling. He said an anonymous tip brought him to our house that night. It's all very suspicious, but I don't know.” He paused before adding, a note of bitter finality to his voice, “I'll never know.”

That pregnant pause told her so much. It told her how badly he wanted to know. It told her how he had devoted his life to searching for the truth, for answers to a mystery that had robbed him of his family.

“You've killed a lot of lycans,” she guessed.

“Hundreds,” he confirmed, voice flat, without remorse.

“You could have already killed the one responsible,” she pointed out.

“Believe me, I've thought the same thing. I've never killed a lycan without asking myself that very thing.
Is this the one?
”

“After your parents died, where did you go?”

“My grandmother took us in. Although I can't say she wanted to. It was all very hard on Kit. A little girl needs love. More than what I could give. A woman's touch, you know. My grandmother was finished raising children.” He laughed dryly. “I'm not sure she even wanted my mother. They were never very close. My parents, my sister, and me. We were it. We were everything. Until that night, I couldn't have asked for a happier life.”

She closed her eyes, saddened at what he and his sister suffered, what they lost. His mother had killed the man she loved, the father of her children. Gideon knew firsthand about savagery and death.

“That's why you joined NODEAL?”

Vengeance. She could understand such a motive. Which is why she couldn't understand his willingness to let her live. She was only grateful for it.

He nodded. “It's all I've ever wanted to do.”

“Destroy lycans?”

Again, he nodded.

“But not me?” she questioned, her confusion clear. How could he even stand to be with her, much less hold and touch her?

He said nothing. His hand moved over her hair, caressing the strands. “I want to give you the chance my mother never had.”

“How old were you when your parents died?”

“Sixteen.”

“My God,” she breathed against his chest.

“My sister was only eight,” he continued in a hollow voice. “I always felt guilty that she didn't have more time with our parents. That she only had eight years to remember.”

Claire propped her chin on his chest and looked up at him. He traced her eyebrows lightly.

Her heart clenched as she thought of the boy who lost both parents in one night, about the allegiance he must feel to the man that saved him and his little sister. “Must be hard to go against Cooper like this.”

“It is and it isn't.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's hard to accept that I'm breaking policy and betraying Cooper. He saved my life. And he gave me a goal, something to live for when I wanted to die right alongside my parents. I needed a purpose in life.” He cupped the side of her face with one hand, his voice velvet smooth as he murmured, “But it would be harder to destroy you.”