Beneath a Rising Moon Page 9
“Neva?”
He walked into the living room and found her on the
sofa, fast asleep. He squatted beside her and gently brushed
the dark gold strands of hair from her face. She stirred
slightly, murmuring something he couldn’t quite catch.
Her delicate features had a drawn look to them, and
the smudges beneath her eyes were as dark as bruises.
She’d obviously gotten as little sleep as he last night.
He trailed his fingers down her cheek to the full lips
he ached to kiss, then on, past the long line of her neck to
the round fullness of her breasts. The cashmere sweater
was soft under his fingertips, her nipples hard.
He rose. His family’s costume dance didn’t start until
midnight, so they didn’t have to leave just yet. He walked
out of the living room and headed up the stairs.
Her bedroom was like her—soft, feminine and golden.
The bed was big, crowded with brightly colored cushions
and cheerful bears. He swept them aside and pulled back
the comforter and sheet. Then he headed back down the
stairs.
She hadn’t moved. He took a deep breath, then
concentrated his kinetic energy and carefully lifted her
from the sofa. Holding her several inches off the cushions,
he gently pulled off her shoes, then her jeans and panties.
The sweater he left. He had too many fantasies about
caressing her in that sweater to take it off right now.
She muttered something as the cold air caressed her
skin and turned around, pulling at his kinetic hold. Pain
tore at the edges of his mind, and a bead of sweat trickled
to his chin. He’d lifted people before with telekinesis, people
far heavier than she was. But each of those times he hadn’t
wanted to keep his touch whisper soft. Gentleness wasn’t
easy.
He tucked his hands under her body, then released
his kinetic hold and hugged her close. She snuggled into
his chest, her skin so cool compared to his, then sighed
softly. It was then he smelled the alcohol on her breath.
Given how little she’d eaten this evening, it was
probably that, more than anything, that had made her fall
asleep. And would certainly explain why she hadn’t woken
spitting fire when he’d stripped her.
He carried her up the stairs and placed her in her bed.
For a moment, he simply stood there, his gaze lingering
hungrily on the fullness of her breasts under the cashmere
sweater before moving on, past the flat plane of her stomach
to the golden triangle of soft curls, remembering the way
her long legs had wrapped around his waist as he thrust
so very deep. He almost came just thinking about it.
He quickly stripped and climbed in beside her. She
wouldn’t be happy to find him there. This was her
sanctuary, the one place no woman wanted to find a man
unless he was invited.
But he had no intention of leaving or letting her leave,
until he’d finished what he’d started this afternoon in the
diner.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her close
and waited for her to wake.
***
The dream was one of pleasure.
Neva lay wrapped in the darkness, part of her covered,
part of her exposed and so ready for invasion. And she
was invaded. By hands. By tongue. By body. She writhed
and moaned, her skin on fire, every muscle screaming for
release. The stroking continued. Outside. Inside. It took
her higher and higher, until the need was so strong she
couldn’t even breathe. Then she came with such powerful
force she screamed to the moon. It was a sound echoed by
her dream lover.
She woke.
To discover it was no dream.
To discover the gentle invasion had not yet stopped.
“That was but a beginning,” Duncan whispered in her
ear. His tongue gently explored her lobe, and she shuddered
under the assault.
She opened her eyes and realized she was home. In
bed. Her bed.
Anger surged. He had to no right to be here. “What the
hell are you doing?”
He shifted his weight off her, then moved his hand
down her stomach and gently pressed past her damp curls.
She shifted, trying to escape his touch, yet unable to deny
the sweet pleasure of it.
“What does it feel like I’m doing?” His voice was lazy,
amused.
Her gaze flew to his. His dark eyes were filled with
enough heat to start a forest fire. And that was certainly
the impact it had on her. “Seducing me in my own bed.”
“That’s exactly right.”
“You have no right.” She hesitated, eyes widening as
his mouth drew close.
“I have every right,” he murmured, breath warm across
her lips. “And every intention.”
His kiss was a honeyed affirmation of his words. A
gentle possession she could not escape. Didn’t really want
to escape. The moon was high, and given this afternoon’s
and last night’s frustrations, she so very desperately needed
his touch. Needed him. Though she would never have
admitted as much.
His mouth moved on, trailing fiery kisses down her
neck to her breasts. She still wore her sweater, but he
didn’t seem to care. His teeth encased one aching nipple,
biting lightly. She squirmed, trying to deny pleasure as he
sucked and nipped one aching nub, then the other. As the
gentle assault continued, she gave in to the urge to touch
him, and she ran her hands down the muscled plain of
his stomach to stroke the still hard length of him. He
shuddered, thrusting into her touch. An oddly primitive
sense of power ran through her. Whatever else he might
think or feel about her, he couldn’t deny his need for her
right now.
A small comfort that was better than nothing, she
supposed.
She continued to explore as he explored—by taste, by
touch. Heat rose, shimmering between them, warming the
night. Warming them.
His touch pushed her into a place where only sensation
existed. The air was hot and thick and almost impossible
to breathe. Every inch of her quivered under the relentless
assault of his fingers and tongue. Then the convulsions
began, the power of them curling through her body like a
tidal wave.
It was a wave that became even more glorious as he
thrust inside her again. She groaned and wrapped her
legs around him, forcing him deeper still, until it felt as if
the rigid heat of him was claiming every inch of her.
Her climax hit, stealing her breath, stealing her sanity,
sweeping her into a world that was sheer, unadulterated
bliss. A heartbeat later he went rigid against her, the power
of his release tearing a groan from his throat. He held her
for one last thrust, then his lips sought hers, his kiss a
lingering taste of passion.
In that one moment, all the fears that had plagued her
&n
bsp; the first time they’d made love returned in a rush. Because
this time he hadn’t only let her glimpse the stars, he’d well
and truly taken her past them.
Worse still, there was something in the way he touched
her that she’d never felt before, and it scared her. Because
no matter how powerful the dance, it would never mean
anything to a man like Duncan Sinclair. He was a lone
wolf, a man who lived for momentary pleasure, who
searched for nothing beyond it. He’d certainly proven time
and again over the last twenty-four hours that he cared
nothing for her.
And the mere fact that she was even thinking
something like that, after the abominable way he’d treated
her, showed just how dangerous the next four days were
going to be.
He rolled off her onto his back, one arm flung across
his forehead as he stared up at the ceiling. He might have
been alone for all the notice he seemed to take of her. The
night air caressed her rapidly cooling skin, but it had little
to do with the shiver that ran down her spine.
“You’d better be getting dressed,” he said. “We have to
be back to the mansion by twelve.”
His voice was flat, unemotional. She certainly wouldn’t
have thought they’d shared a mind-blowing dance only
moments before.
“Right,” she said, keeping her voice as flat as his. “I’ll
just go take a shower.”
“Don’t.”
She stared at him. He didn’t look at her, didn’t
acknowledge her, just continued to gaze at the ceiling.
And it was beginning to grate. “Why not?”
“Because I want everyone to smell my scent on you. I
want them to know you’re mine, and mine alone.”
Relief slithered through her. At least he was keeping
one promise. “I can’t see how having a shower will affect
that.”
“It’s the dance and the moon rides high. They must
know I have claimed you tonight, or there will be
challenges.”
Her stomach began to churn. What in the hell type of
dance was he taking her to? “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “What I said. Tonight is my pack’s get-
together. Some bring mates. Others bring dancers to be
shared. If you don’t have my scent on you, you’ll be
considered the latter rather than the former.”
The implications of that swirled through her and settled
like a weight in her stomach. “So it’s an orgy?”
He finally glanced at her. Amusement sparked briefly
in his eyes before it was lost to the shutters. “The whole
moon dance is an orgy.”
She supposed it was—at least where the Sinclairs were
concerned. “Can I at least clean up a little?”
“If you hurry.” He hesitated, and a mirthless smile
touched his full lips. “Wouldn’t want to miss any of the
fun, now, would we?”
Her stomach began to churn, and she wondered yet
again just what she’d gotten herself into.
Wondered how in hell she was going to get through
the rest of this night, let alone the next four.
Five
Duncan stopped at the top of the stairs and let his
gaze roam across the lust-filled darkness. This ballroom
was far smaller than the main one, but no one here really
cared. Tonight was a night for the main pack to come
together and rejoice in the freedom of the moon. And if
ever there was a time to discover discontent, it was tonight,
when the heat of the moon and the whispering magic
entwined through the music to make blood boil and
tongues loosen.
Neva edged closer to him. Her hand was tense in his,
and he could smell her fear as clearly as he could taste
the seductive aroma of her femininity.
And while he could certainly understand her desire
not to be here, right now he had no choice. Not only was it
a perfect night to catch nearly the whole pack in the one
place, it also provided yet another opportunity to push
her that little bit farther.
He spied his father and two of his brothers near the
buffet table. He swept his gaze around the room again
and saw René enjoying the delights of a statuesque blonde
he vaguely recognized. He smiled grimly. His brother
certainly wasn’t bothering to mourn the loss of a mate.
But then, why would he? In the heated rush of the moon,
she’d been just another face. Just another body to sate
his lust on. René might have momentarily mourned her
loss but, in the end, he didn’t truly care. There were plenty
of willing replacements to be found here in the Sinclair
mansion.
A fact Duncan knew entirely too well. And one he was
no longer satisfied with.
Only trouble was, he wasn’t sure if there was anything
else out there. Not for him, anyway.
He led the way down the steps and into the crowd.
The heavy beat of the music throbbed though his veins,
and the air was heavy with the rich aroma of sex.
He glanced at Neva. Though the mask covered half
her face, he could see the glow of color in her cheeks. She
kept her gaze firmly fixed ahead, but the smell of her
arousal stung the air. She might be of the golden tribe,
but she was still a wolf, and she could no more ignore the
scents and sounds of those around her than he could.
His gaze slipped from her face to her body. She looked
absolutely stunning in the barely-there black dress, and
every step she took revealed tantalizing flashes of warm,
golden skin. Her hair was a river flowing down her back,
swaying like golden silk with every movement, drawing
the eye to the perfection of her rear. He wasn’t the only
one who hungered for her—it was a feeling that followed
them as they made their way through the crowded room,
a sensation she would feel more acutely than he could.
And while he knew his proprietary hold on her ensured
no one would approach her, she didn’t. Left alone, the
fear so evident in her pretty eyes would rise, and maybe,
just maybe, she’d run to whoever had employed her to
watch him.
He reached the far wall and found space enough to
press her back into the shadows.
Heat climbed into her cheeks. “What now? You ravage
me in front of your packmates to show what a big man
you are?”
If he’d had the time, most definitely. He ran his hand
down the long line of her neck, noting the wild flutter of
her pulse under his fingertips. It wasn’t fear, just as the
widening of her pupils wasn’t fear. Underneath the
strictness of her upbringing, there was a wild wolf
desperate to be free. And if what they’d shared so far was
any indication of what was to come, he certainly wouldn’t
mind being her mate when that wildness finally asserted
itself.
He leaned close, letting his lips brush hers as he said,
“Is that what you want me to do?”
Her breath ca
ught, then caressed his mouth with quick
warmth. He let his hand drift down to her breasts and
gently rubbed one firm nub through the silk of her dress.
She shivered, her lips parting, her breathing rapid.
He pressed himself closer, so that it seemed every inch
of their bodies were molded together. He could feel her
trembling, feel the heat radiating off her skin. The musky
scent of her desire spun around him, the wild beat of her
heart resonating through every fiber of his being.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured and brushed
another kiss across her lips.
“Food,” she all but gasped. “Not sex.”
He grinned and pushed away. “Then food you shall
have.”
Surprise flitted through her eyes. Good—because the
more he kept her off balance, the more likely it was that
she’d make a mistake.
“Wait for me here. I have to go talk to my father, then
I’ll bring you back something to eat.”
“Why can’t I come with you?”
“Because I have pack business to discuss, and you’re
not of my pack. Wait here.” He turned and walked away
from her.
Neva crossed her arms and watched his muscular back
disappear into the crowd. The urge to run after him was
fierce, but she fought it. As much as she didn’t want to be
left alone in this place, it at least provided an opportunity
to do some investigating. She swept her gaze across the
room. There was a feel to the air she didn’t like, a feeling
that went beyond wanting, beyond lust. Was almost angry.
Not the entire room, just some sections of it, and it
was a feeling she couldn’t pinpoint to one person or group.
Not yet, anyway.
The ballroom was smaller than the one she’d seen last
night, but just as dark. There was no dance floor, just
couples moving through the shadows—some talking, some
making love, some doing both.
Most of the women wore outlandish costumes, the men
leather pants that left little to the imagination. Chaps and
a whip seemed almost tame by comparison to some of the
attire in the room, but she was damn glad she’d refused
to wear them. There’d been enough hunger aimed her way
as Duncan led her across the room. Chaps would have
only increased that hum of interest tenfold.
A small band of musicians sat in the far corner of the