Read A Love Untamed Online

Authors: Pamela Palmer

A Love Untamed (19 page)

All evidence pointed to the Mage wanting him taken alive. And he could only assume it was because of whatever it was that Inir had done to the fox animal spirit after he'd killed Sly.

But the Mage didn't want Melisande. The labyrinth wanted her dead.

Goddess, he had to reach her.

He shivered, then wondered what useless bit of untruth his gut was about to offer him this time.

Drop.

Bloody hell. His gut was bent on getting him captured. Why? Had it really turned against him, or was it trying to give him exactly what he wanted . . . a way to find Kara? While he'd never in a million years expected to be the one among them to accomplish that feat, he couldn't deny the satisfaction he'd derive from doing so. The validation. And his gut would know it. But, while getting captured by the Mage might be a way to reach her, there had to be a better way than becoming a Mage captive himself.

If he were to be captured, Melisande would stand no chance.

No. He wasn't giving up and letting himself be caught. Not in a million years.

Painstakingly slowly, Fox dug one foothold then handhold after another until, finally, he was able to pull himself up and out of the pit.

Sweat ran down his back and chest as he searched for signs of Melisande. She wasn't dead. At least he didn't think so. Phylicia had quickly turned to dust after she died. The pain that went through him at the thought that Melisande could already be gone, all trace of her existence wiped from the Earth, was excruciating. She was still alive. He had to believe that.

Maybe she'd fallen into one of the pits and been knocked unconscious. Perhaps that's why she hadn't answered his call.

“Mel!” Still no answer. He began making his way carefully between the pits, peering into each, searching for sign of her. The last thing he wanted to do was to slide into the next world with her still trapped in this one.

But with his next step, snow covered his booted foot, and he knew it was done. He'd left the island. At the same time, he heard the roar of a beast and whirled to see Melisande flying through the air over the strangest creature he'd ever seen—a beastie with six sharp swords for horns. A monster who was about to kill Melisande.

Chapter Fourteen

I
n a running leap, Fox shifted into his animal, four feet able to traverse the snowy field better than his human two as he raced to save Melisande. Even as he ran, the six-horned beastie turned and began to charge her as she struggled, bloodied, to her feet. She pulled her blade, but though her leg appeared to be healing, it wasn't happening fast enough. Goddess, she wasn't going to be able to move out of the way in time.

He raced over the snow, thanking the goddess that he'd followed her from that world to this. As he neared the beastie, he shifted to human form and pulled his blade, then leaped onto the beast's back and stabbed it through the neck.

But the creature didn't slow. It was almost upon her. Leaning low, he cut hard through the monster's thigh muscle. The beastie went down, tossing Fox over its head into the snow, but as Fox leaped up again, Melisande took his place on the struggling animal's back, stabbing it in the neck over and over.

“It keeps healing,” she called to him, annoyance in her voice. “Want to give me a hand with his head?” She asked the question as calmly as if she were asking for help with an unwieldy suitcase.

He grinned, his relief at finding her whole and alive bursting from his throat on a deep chuckle.

“Aye, pet. I'll give you a hand.” He strolled to the pair of them and with a pair of hard hacks, cut off the beast's head. A moment after Melisande leaped clear of the carcass, the creature disappeared.

He sheathed his blade and turned to Melisande, barely opening his arms in time as she threw herself at him.

“I thought they'd caught you,” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck, wrapping her legs around his waist, clinging to him tight.

He hauled her against him, burying his nose in her hair, shaking from relief and joy and an emotion he was afraid to name. “I thought I'd lost you,” he breathed. “I wasn't even sure you'd survived.” How had she come to mean so much?

Finally, she pulled back to where she could see him. “I feared the labyrinth had separated us.”

“Apparently there's only one path through the gauntlet. Escape the trap, and it propels you into the next world, offering you another chance to fail.”

“I need to kiss you,” she said softly, fervently.

“Oh, pet . . .” They came together in a blaze of need and thanksgiving, her lips cold, their kiss hot enough to scorch the flesh from his bones. He devoured her, drinking in her taste, her sweetness. The need to keep her with him, safe and protected, trembled through his muscles. As badly as he needed to be inside her again, he longed even more to tuck her within his heart, where no one could ever threaten her or hurt her again.

Snow began to fall as their mouths melded, their tongues twining in a fierce yet gentle dance. She smelled of wild heather and crisp mountain air, and tasted of honey. So sweet, so incredibly precious.

Snowflakes landed on his cheeks, his hands, melting in the heat of their passion. But as he slanted his head to deepen the kiss, their noses brushed and he felt hers, ice-cold. He pulled back. “We need to find shelter, angel.” The wind was beginning to whip and the sky to darken.

She gave her head a little shake as if trying to reclaim her equilibrium. “Yes. Shelter.” But her mating scent wrapped around him, sinking into his blood, and it was all he could do not to take her mouth again.

“The rocks,” he said. “Maybe we can find a windbreak, if nothing else.”

She nodded, and he set her on the ground, then took her small, cold hand firmly in his. Together, they climbed into the crags, searching for a cave, or any kind of shelter as the snow fell harder and visibility became so poor Fox could no longer see the snowy plain below the rocks. An army could be approaching, and they'd have little warning.

He didn't like this, not at all. The beast had been sent to kill Melisande, nothing more. But at some point, in some way, the labyrinth would try to corral him into a trap.

“I see something,” Melisande said, pulling away from him.

Fox followed her gaze to a low split in the rock, much too small for him to fit through, and watched as she bent low and stuck her arm into it with ease.

He might not fit, but his fox would. “I'll shift and scope it out. I can see in the dark.”

Pulling on the power of his animal, he shifted too big, of course, but quickly downsized until he was the size of a small fox. With ease, he trotted through the hole and into a cave about the size of the war room at Feral House, the ceiling high enough for him to stand up in with ease, once he'd shifted back. But as he looked around, he saw something in the corner that made his hackles rise—a large pile of firewood. And a box of wooden matches.

“Fox?” Melisande called softly.

“Come in, pet.” He shifted back into a man, and the cave went dark for a moment as his human vision slowly adjusted to the minimal light allowed in through the cave's small mouth. Light temporarily doused by Melisande's arrival.

She'd had to do little more than bend over to squeeze inside. Rising, she looked around, blinking to adjust her sight. “This is perfect. Unless they're my size, or can shift into something smaller, no one else will be able to get in. Certainly, no more than one at a time, and then with difficulty.”

“Let's hope we don't have to get out in a hurry.” Her mating scent perfumed the air in the small space, igniting the fire in his blood all over again.

“It's better than standing out in the snow. Especially for those of us without fur or coats.”

He nodded toward the firewood. “It's a little too perfect. All it's missing is gingerbread walls and candy light fixtures.”

Melisande shrugged. “We're not going to escape whatever this place has in store for us, you know that. It won't let us go until we've evaded its traps.”

“Walking into one isn't exactly evading.”

“No,” she said huskily. “But we're safe from the storm. And alone.” Sapphire eyes leaped with heat.

She was right. Fox knew she was right. And even if she wasn't, at this moment, he didn't care. He took a step toward her as she moved toward him, and they met in the middle, coming together like two halves of a hole. He pulled her hard against him, devouring her mouth, remembering too late to be careful with her. But as she met him, kiss for kiss, hunger for hunger, he felt a triumphant rush of relief. Her mating scent invaded his senses, sending his already-raging passion spiraling out of control.

“I have to touch you.” Despite the need tearing him apart, he forced himself to move slowly, aware she might balk at any moment. He slid one hand to the hem of her tunic, then under, against her cold abdomen, then higher to palm her breast.

The feel of her sweet flesh against his skin pulled a moan of pure pleasure from deep in his throat. “You feel like heaven,” he said against her lips. He longed to whip the tunic off of her, to bare her to his sight. But he wouldn't undress her when she was still so cold. And he couldn't see her nearly as well as he wanted in the almost nonexistent light.

It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to pull away from her. It pleased him when she resisted, groaning in protest.

“Let me start the fire, luv. Let me get you warm.”

“The fire will lead them right to us.” She snorted. “Who am I kidding? They know where we are.”

“They do. And they'll come for us. When that happens, we'll fight. Until then, we're going to stay safe. And warm.” He cupped her soft cheek, his hand unsteady as the need to touch her everywhere powered through him. “I want to undress you. Will you allow me that?”

She hesitated, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth. Slowly, she nodded. “If I can do the same to you.”

A grin broke across his mouth. “Aye, you can.”

The wood was dry, and he built the fire quickly and easily. As the flames began to flicker over the walls, the wood popping and crackling as it took to the flame, Fox turned back to the beautiful woman at his side.

Their gazes met, need leaping between them in a raw, carnal burst. Goddess, he wanted her. And by the passion gleaming in her eyes, he knew she felt the same. He slid both hands to the hem of her tunic and she lifted her arms high, allowing him to pull it up and over her head.

His breath left him on a sigh. It was the first time he'd seen her. “So beautiful.” His thumb brushed over one taut nipple. “You wear no bra.”

She smiled, a twinkle in her eye that threatened to slay him. “There were no Victoria's Secrets around in my youth. I got used to going without.”

He grinned, flicking his thumb across her nipple again as she gasped with pleasure. “So perfect,” he murmured, then knelt before her, gripped her hips lightly, and dipped his head, taking one breast into his mouth. She tasted as good as she smelled, like fresh air and wild, sultry nights. As he flicked his tongue back and forth across her nipple, her fingers dug into his hair, holding him close, filling him with a rightness he couldn't explain and didn't question.

He was beginning to tremble with the need to taste her in other places. Everywhere. When he moved to kiss the valley between her breasts, she gasped with pleasure. Fox glanced up at her. “Tell me what you want me to do, angel.” If she told him to stop, to leave her alone, he'd do it. He'd expire of wanting, but he'd do it.

“Love me,” she said instead, and his knees weakened with relief.

“Aye.” He reached down and pulled off one of her boots, then met her heated gaze. “You can tell me to stop at any moment. You know that.”

“Yes.”

He pulled off her other boot, then reached for the waistband of her leggings and slowly began to lower them, revealing her to his hungry gaze one inch at a time. His heart pounded with fear that she'd tell him to stop, that she'd back away and refuse to let him touch her more.

But she said nothing. Her fingers trailed over his shoulders as he pulled her leggings down to her thighs, then lower, and finally off. Sitting back on his heels, he looked at her thoroughly, in thrall to her beauty, his pulse beginning to hammer in his veins.

“You are so lovely, Melisande.”

She watched him in return, a soft smile on her mouth. But there were shadows in her eyes.

“Are you all right?”

She hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Yes. The hunger rages, the desire to touch you is almost more than I can bear.”

“But the memories haunt.”

“Yes. I suppose they always will.” She reached for him. “Touch me, Fox. Make me forget.”

And there was nothing in the world he wanted more. “Will you free your hair for me?”

With a smile that was almost shy, and incredibly sweet, she nodded and pulled her braid over her shoulder, unknotting the tie that held it. As she freed her braid, he slid one hand slowly between her legs, pleased when she adjusted her stance to afford him access. She was so wet, so hot for him that he nearly lost the last of his control and pulled her under him. Instead, he stroked her. His finger slid through her wetness, into her body, and she gasped, arching back even as her fingers worked her lovely blond locks from their braid.

Pulling her against him, one arm around her waist, his other hand between her legs, he once more took her breast in his mouth as his finger worked her, in and out, his thumb circling her sweet nub until she was rocking against him, gasping.

He had to taste her. Pulling his hand from between her legs, he gripped her hips with both hands, then kissed her stomach. Slowly, he dipped lower, kissing one thigh, then the other, until finally he found the nectar he sought, licking between her legs, tasting her sweet essence.

“Fox,” she gasped, and clung to him, her cry of pleasure the sweetest of sounds. And he had no intention of stopping until he pushed her over the edge.

His fingers pressed into her soft flesh, caressing even as he held her close, her scent invading his senses until she was all that existed—this woman, this moment, and the need to make her scream with pleasure.

As her hips began to rock, he continued his gentle assault, stroking her with his tongue, suckling her, licking her until she was gasping, rocking, digging her small fingers into his shoulders with sweet desperation. And, finally, she was there, arching on a gasping, keening cry, shattering in her pleasure.

Her knees gave way, and he pulled her against him, her glorious hair cloaking them both. She reached for him, her hands on his shoulders, then in his hair, her sapphire eyes blazing as she stared at him with heat and joy.

“I want you, Fox. I need you inside of me.” Her temporary weakness evaporated, and she shifted, grabbing for his belt, unbuckling it as she grinned at him, seduction in those marvelous eyes. “There's something you should know about me. Before . . . my captivity . . . I was a woman without inhibitions.”

“Thank you, goddess,” he muttered, as her sweet fingers unbuttoned the button on his pants and slid down his zipper.

She glanced up, her eyes serious. “Don't cover me with your body, and I think we'll be okay.” Then her attention returned to her task, and her cool little hand dipped beneath the waistband of his shorts to slide over his thick, throbbing erection. “If I'm not, we'll both find out.” Hot eyes met his. “Let me pleasure you.”

His breath hitched as he stroked her cheek. “Is that what you want?”

Her hand slid down over his erection, a shock of pleasure that had him arching back, his eyes dropping closed. When he opened them again, it was to find her watching him with a cheeky smile. “Trust me, Feral. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want.”

Truly, he'd died and gone to heaven.

The next thing he knew, his pants and shorts were down around his thighs and her warm, sweet mouth was on him, kissing the entire throbbing, sensitive length of him. Never had he known anything so erotic. Her fingers closed around him, her thumb brushing the tiny drop of moisture that had escaped the tip. Then she guided him to her lips and closed her mouth around him.

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