Between Light and Dark (13 page)

"Oh no, you don't. You won't get out of this argument by
distracting me with the yearning." Laurell's eyes raked his
body, and her face flushed as she noticed his state of undress. Her eyes shot back to his face. For some reason the
fact that his near nakedness unnerved her pleased him.

Axiom sighed. "I do not understand the need for an argument. Let us sit and discuss this so we may move forward
with the mission unencumbered by mistrust." He sat on the
bed and patted the spot next to him.

Laurell did not budge from her place in the center of the
room. "Not a chance," she muttered. "Explain about the
witch thing."

"Which witch thing?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
She frowned. "Don't get cute with me. Why didn't you
tell me about my bloodline? It might have been helpful for
me to know my family is full of witches and that, supposedly, I'm one too."

Axiom knew he must tread lightly. How to tell her the
truth without upsetting her further? During the time he
had studied Laurell from the Light Realm, he had often
witnessed her silent pain over her severed relationship with
her mother. He had no wish to increase the rift between
them, but he could not evade Laurell's questions and hope
to gain her trust. It was necessary, if they were to succeed in
their mission.

"Your Liaison had asked for the right to provide that in formation to you. The Council agreed it would be best that
she explain," he ventured.

At the mention of her mother, Laurell's spine stiffened.
"My mother was supposed to tell me about this? Why? Because she failed to do so when she was alive? What is this
about, anyway? Mother unburdening her guilty conscience
or us saving the world? Why are the gods allowing her to
run the show?"

Axiom ignored Laurell's words. "How exactly did you
learn of your magical background?" he asked. Axiom had
not broken his agreement to allow the Liaison to tell Laurell she was a witch. Who had?

"Reese," she admitted. "And my grandmother's Book of
Shadows."

Axiom raised his eyebrows. Fiona had assured him the
coven understood the Council's instructions. As for the Book
of Shadows, he was not aware one existed for the Graves family, but perhaps it would prove useful to them in the future.

"Tonight would be an opportune time for you to attempt
a meeting with your Liaison on the Astral Plane so she can
explain further," Axiom suggested.

Laurell scowled. "Yeah. I'll get right on that." She crossed
to the far side of the room with jerky movements, then
stopped abruptly as though uncertain of her next step. She
let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her hands over her face before dropping her arms to her sides.

Axiom frowned. He could not help feeling he had failed
her in some manner. He stood up and went to her, reaching
out to her again and steeling himself for her inevitable retreat. Surprisingly, when his hand touched hers, she did not
move. Her head lifted and her hazel eyes gazed into his,
searching. She squared her shoulders, as though coming to
some sort of decision, and licked her lips. Axiom's eyes were drawn to the curve of her mouth, to the plump flesh
now wet from the sweep of her tongue. A pulse ticked in
his neck. He blinked and his gaze met hers again.

Laurell's hands came up and hovered over his bare chest.
The hairs there prickled under the heat of her palms, begging them to land. At the same time her fingers curled
against his skin, Laurell stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips
to his. Axiom sucked in a harsh breath.

That brief press of mouth against mouth was so tempting.
He felt the yearning trying to tumble over him, but held it in
check. Yet a desire all his own heated his blood.

Laurell's kiss became more heated, her body pressed
close against his, and her tongue pushed between his lips.
She tasted of sugar, and the scent of smoke from a distant
campfire clung to her clothes and tickled his nose. His
arousal had to be clear to her. He hardened and strained
against the towel still hanging loosely from his hips. He
should stop this.

It was not time for their mating, but the sensations were
too pleasurable to turn away. The fact that Laurell had initiated the embrace further titillated him.

Axiom's arms closed around her, his hands running slow
circles over her back, caressing her through her cotton
shirt. He enjoyed the feel of her, the curve of her hips, the
way goose bumps broke out on her arms when his fingers
brushed them. Heat flared and he choked back a moan.
Laurell's fingers left his chest and fluttered across his back,
his hips, to rest on his waist. Laurell pulled her mouth from
his, ran her tongue over his lips, down his jaw, and then
teased his neck.

Her breathing was heavier, her skin hot to the touch.
His breath, his skin, soon followed suit.

Break away. This is not the time. But then he told himself
the embrace was harmless and he should look at this as a practice exercise. The yearning hovered in the background,
teasing with its promise of exquisite pleasure, yet still held
in check by their wards.

Distracted by the need throbbing in his groin and the
tingling of his skin when Laurell's sweet lips trailed over his
chest, he did not think to question her sudden change of
heart or why she had gone from avoiding his touch to initiating their intimacy. That was, until her tongue flicked his
nipple and the hands around his waist released the towel
and sent it pooling to the floor. Her fingers slid over the
length of his engorged sex and closed around the tip. He
moaned and bucked against her hand.

A moment later, he sensed Laurell's ward break and he
knew, without a doubt, she had released the yearning on
purpose.

The yearning ripped through Laurell's body, fierce and hot,
burning through any remaining nervousness and severing all
her inhibitions. Her mind filled with Axiom, with visions of
sex acts so carnal she'd have blushed if the yearning allowed
her even a moment of clarity. Axiom. The visions were of
Axiom. And her. His scent, earthy but tinged with soap from
his recent shower, engulfed her. He throbbed in her hand
and she rubbed and moved her palm up and down him, imitating a much deeper intimacy. His nipple grew hard beneath her tongue and she flicked and suckled it relentlessly.
Her panties grew damp, her thighs trembled, and she pushed
Axiom toward the bed. A moment later, they fell onto it,
with her on top.

She forgot about the fact she was only seducing him to
get pregnant and end the yearning. She forgot this was just
a means to an end, a way to gain some control over her life
again. Laurell could think only of Axiom. Of his brawny
body, so lean, so muscular, so beautiful.

She lifted her head to rake her eyes over him. Thick
black hair, chiseled facial features, broad shoulders, defined
chest with a spattering of dark hair that trailed down over a
taut stomach to his groin, highlighting the long, thick
length that she held in her hand. Her hand looked tiny,
holding him.

He's gorgeous. Just looking at him could make a girl come.

She increased the pumping motion. His back was arched,
his head thrown back, eyes slitted as they peered up at her.
He let out a deep groan.

His hands closed over her breasts, and he tugged her nipples between index finger and thumb. She shuddered. She
couldn't take it; she needed him to touch her bare flesh.
Laurell released Axiom and sat astride him. She pulled her
T-shirt over her head and tossed it away. Her bra followed.
Axiom's silver eyes darkened to gray as they rested on her
naked, ample breasts.

She grabbed his hands and closed them over her chest,
her small hands cradling his, encouraging his caress. Axiom sat up abruptly, his hands leaving her chest to circle
her waist and cup her bottom. Now she sat in his lap, bare
chest to bare chest, his coarse chest hair tickling her nipples. His mouth ground against hers and the yearning flared
deeper, more urgent.

Her sex pulsed and ached, almost unbearably. She rubbed
herself against his hardness, silently cursing the jeans she
wore and wishing no layers separated them.

He only allowed her a couple of presses against him before he pushed forward, and Laurell found herself lying on
her back. One hand tangled in her hair and forced her head
back so he could lick her ear and suckle the crook of her
neck. She sensed movement at her waist and realized dimly
his other hand was making quick work of her button and zipper. A moment later, seeking fingers touched the waistband of her panties.

The yearning ripped through her, electric, raw. She cried
out. Her eyes fluttered open and met his. His face was
flushed, his gaze full of arousal. She grasped his shoulders,
dug her nails into them. Touch me. Touch me, she thought.
Oh god, touch me before I explode.

As though he heard her silent plea, his fingers dipped beneath her panties and skimmed the light hair over her
mound. She parted her thighs, urging him farther. His hand
slid through her slick folds to flicker over her aroused bud.
Her hips arched. One circular swirl over that sensitive flesh.
Two. Three. And she came. Hard. But unlike a regular orgasm, this one didn't retreat after it had reached its peak;
instead, it decreased only slightly, just enough to let her
breathe. Then it hovered and pulsed again and again. Laurell
gasped and forced her mind to clear just a little.

She grabbed at her jeans and, since Axiom held most of
his weight off of her, managed to tug them down to the top
of her knees, her panties going along for the ride. She
reached between them to stroke Axiom's erection again.
He had to enter her. She'd never get pregnant this way. She
fought against the waves of orgasm that continued to lap at
her, struggled to focus, lifted her hips and her sex toward
Axiom's aroused flesh until the tip of his penis nudged
against her pubic hair.

"No." Axiom's voice broke the spell. Her orgasm waned.
His features twisted into a grimace, and he pulled himself
off of her in one smooth motion. The towel regained its
previous place around his waist. The yearning immediately
stopped.

Cool air tickled Laurell's chest and made her instantly
aware of her lack of clothing. Axiom had left the bed and
stood several feet from her, silently watching. She blinked
in confusion. Why had he stopped? She tugged her jeans
back to her waist, and sat up.

"What's wrong?" she asked, self-consciously crossing her
arms over her chest as her eyes made a frantic sweep of the
room. Where was her bra? Where was her shirt? A scrap of
blue cloth peeked out from beneath a chair near Axiom.
She leaped from the bed and, holding one arm over her
breasts, crouched and retrieved it, then turned her back to
him and pulled her shirt over her head.

Turning to face him again, she placed her hands on her
hips and cocked her head to one side expectantly.

"Well?" she prodded.

"Nothing is wrong," Axiom finally said. He looked shaken,
his own breathing still somewhat labored.

"Then what just happened?" Laurell persisted.

"I stopped the yearning. It seemed you were unable to
hold your ward."

"I still don't understand why you did it." Laurell tried to
keep her tone light, flirty. This wasn't going as planned.
They were supposed to be having sex.

"It is not time for consummation," Axiom said.

Laurell bit her lip. Not time? They'd both been all but
naked and she'd been wet, ready, and raring to go. So had
he, for that matter. She crossed the room and touched his
arm, running her fingers over his elbow and putting on what
she hoped was a seductive smile. She hoped it hid how vulnerable she felt, now that Axiom was one of only three men
in her life who'd seen her orgasm face.

"Seems to me like the perfect time," she murmured, stepping closer so her breasts brushed his chest. She slid her
hand up his arm and tilted her head, intending to kiss him
again and get the party restarted.

Axiom grabbed her shoulders and set her away from him.
He shook his head. "It is not time. Please leave my cabin."
His words came out firm, almost harsh.

Laurell recoiled as though she'd been slapped. Her face
burned. She'd thrown herself at him twice and he was rejecting her. His gaze met hers, and she struggled to camouflage the humiliation she knew must be reflected in her eyes.
She averted her eyes. Axiom's hand touched her cheek, the
barest brush.

"We can discuss this later. Once I am dressed," he said.

She shook her head. "There's nothing to talk about," she
said, and hurried out the door without looking back.

Three nights later, Laurell soaped and scraped her flesh until
it tingled. She was trying to scrub the desire out of her body,
to satiate the hunger inside without doing what she really
wanted to do. Axiom. The memory of the yearning and the
feelings it evoked was enough to send her mind back down
into the lustful gutter again and again. She'd never experienced desire like that, let alone an orgasm of such intensity.