The Wizard King, page 5
part #3 of Heart's Desire Series
He scowled as she spoke her oath. “There’s more than one way to do that. You don’t have to go rushing into danger.”
“I’m an Own, Gareth. It’s what we do.” She was reluctant to take that final step that would drag her from his side, but it had to be done. She was the only one who could stop her brother.
A cunning expression crossed over his face before it became curiously blank. “Before you go, I have something you need to see.” He stood and held out his hand, waiting patiently for her to take it.
“What is it?” Reluctantly she accepted his hand, allowing him to pull her along behind him. She needed to leave, before her own desires made it impossible to do so. The feel of his hand in hers was majorly distracting.
“A spell.” His evil grin should have terrified her.
“A protection spell?” Her heart beat faster as he opened the door into what was obviously his workroom. The lingering smell of incense, the cabinets with their different-sized drawers, and the books scattered all over the room declared it a well-used space. The room was dominated by dark woods, light gray walls and a huge, round table similar to the one Chris Beckett had in his workroom. The windows were covered in thick, bright blue curtains that blocked the light.
One wall was almost hidden by a huge, dark gray velvet sofa. The back was tufted, the arms rounded, the cushions were full and inviting. The bright blue accent cushions were smushed, as if Gareth often napped there. She had no doubt that when he moved to the court that sofa would be going with him. She bet if she lay down on it, she’d be able to smell him.
What wasn’t in Gareth’s work space was a desk. He either did his spell research on the huge gray sofa, or in another room. She could picture him, his feet kicked up on one arm of the sofa, his head resting on the other, and a book resting in his lap.
She briefly saw the components of a spell in progress before Gareth stepped in front of her, blocking her view. “I don’t want you to go.”
She could only accept the sincerity in his tone. “Thank you.”
He frowned. “Why are you thanking me?”
She shrugged. How could she tell him she’d been certain he hated her? Everything in his demeanor since she’d shown up on his doorstep indicated otherwise. She wasn’t so much of a martyr that she’d continue to believe something that obviously wasn’t true. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” She took a step back, prepared to leave. “I’m glad you’ve taken precautions, but I’m not certain I can help you with your spell casting.” Neither fish nor fowl, a warlock’s spell casting was different from both a wizard’s and a witch’s. Where wizards took their time, creating powerful spells with lengthy rituals, and witches cast on pure instinct and emotion, warlocks had to appeal to the entities their powers were linked to. If the entity chose not to allow the spell to be cast, the warlock was out of luck, no more than a human with a funny look on their face as they realized they weren’t being granted what they’d asked for. It happened, but rarely. Most entities, even the demonic ones, granted their chosen warlock’s request. It was in their best interests to do so, or they never would have bonded in the first place.
So while she could appreciate the beauty of Gareth’s ritual, unless he explained it to her or she’d seen it before, she’d have no clue what he was up to.
“Oh, I think you’ll be more help than you realize.” That smirk was back, the one that made her heart beat faster and her palms sweat. But he couldn’t really be looking at her like that, as if she were the last bacon cheeseburger on the planet and he was hungry like the wolf.
I really have to stop listening to the oldies channel when I’m driving. Even if they do play the best music from the eighties and nineties.
“I really have to go now.” Something about the way he was staring at her made her want to flee the workroom. Gareth was up to something. And she’d learned, from her brief time at Christopher Beckett’s home, that when Gareth Beckett wanted something neither Heaven nor Hell would stop him.
The thought that he could possibly want her, as improbable as that was, was electrifying. And it was why Gen so desperately needed to leave. He might not hate her, but…
But she was still a Godwin. Still a warlock.
No. She wouldn’t allow herself even the hope of him until her family was dealt with. She smiled at him, and patted his cheek before taking a step back. “Good-bye, Gareth.”
He stood as she backed away to the door, and for a split second she thought he would physically restrain her. Instead, he reached behind him for something on his work table, a little smirk on his face, one she was familiar with. Gareth had a trick up his sleeve, but she had no idea what it was. “Gen?”
She opened the door, ready to flee both whatever he had planned and her own conflicting emotions. Thank the Goddess she wasn’t a witch, or she’d be utterly useless to Gareth right now. Whether he knew it or not, he needed protection that only she could provide. “Yes?”
“Catch.”
Chapter Four
“Oh, shit.”
Gareth grinned as his mate’s eyes went wide, her lips parting as she clutched the Beckett ring in her hand. He quickly covered her clenched hand with his own, completing the circuit.
He could feel the spell settle inside him as warmth flowed up his arm, twining around them both like a sleek silken rope, binding them together for all time. Heat raced through his system, filling him with the desire to take the next step, to take her and bind her physically to him.
The last step would place the shadow wolf on her shoulder, marking her as the chosen mate of a Beckett. If Gareth had his way, that mark would be there today. But unless she fully accepted the mating he could chant the last bit of the spell until the universe ended and her shoulder would remain distressingly blank.
So Gareth put aside casting the rest of the spell, knowing full well she was hesitating, intent on leaving him. His wolf howled in protest, demanding he claim her, keep her chained to his side.
Gareth would do what he could to accommodate its wishes. The thought of Gen running back out of his home to confront her brothers gave him hives.
“What have you done?”
Gareth growled out loud. Instead of horror, or sadness, or even confusion, Gen was…
Was leaning toward him, her pupils dilated, her lips wet and inviting.
She was aroused.
So instead of answering her question, Gareth did the only thing he could do, that wolf and man would allow. He accepted her unspoken invitation, kissing her with all the longing he’d felt since the moment she disappeared.
Whatever he’d done, however he’d driven her away, he’d regret for the rest of his life. Once he figured it out, he’d never do it again. She’d know she was wanted, was needed more than breath.
Whatever it turned out to be.
But that was a question for another time. Now the most important question he had was whether she was a screamer or a moaner.
He’d never understood how someone could say that another person tasted like sunshine, but that’s exactly what Gen tasted like: happiness and warmth and everything good. She tasted sweet, like she’d been sucking on a hard candy, and Gareth drank her sweetness down. He’d been starving for her, and now he was going to wolf her down.
He almost laughed at that thought. No pun intended.
She whimpered, collapsing against him, trusting her weight to him. Gareth wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as he plundered her mouth. Her total surrender to him, the way she clung to him, soothed the snarling beast inside him. Alpha that Gareth was, he needed that, to know that as powerful as Gen was, she was willing to give in to him.
But Gareth should have known better. His Gen didn’t stay passive for long. Soon she was clawing at his shirt, tugging it up to caress bare skin, her nails leaving little trails of fire as she scored him, marked him in her own way. He hissed as she broke skin, drawing blood, the scent making his wolf wild.
Just a few steps, and he’d have her. A few steps, and they collapsed together onto his velvet sofa. Gareth thrust his hips against her, moaning as she trembled beneath him.
“Gareth?”
He had no idea what expression he had on his face, but Gen’s eyes went wide. She tilted her head, baring her neck to him, that long, slender line and smooth, creamy skin tempting him as nothing else in the world could. The need to bite down on the fleshy part of her shoulder, right where neck and shoulder met, was almost overwhelming.
Gareth growled, pleased at his mate’s show of submission. He longed to allow his fangs to descend, to take that tender flesh between his teeth and mark her forever as his. He shuddered with the need to chant the last bit of the spell that would bind them together for the rest of their lives, marking her forever his.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bite her yet, couldn’t chant the rest of the spell. She hadn’t fully accepted him. So Gareth, despite his aching gums, despite the whining of his wolf, pulled back from that tempting flesh and instead sat up. He ripped his shirt over his head, smiling when her breath caught.
He’d bite her when the time was right, take her blood into him, chant the last of the spell to mark her forever as his.
Only when it was time.
But for now, he’d do everything he could to chain her to him without it.
Kicking off the rest of his clothes, Gareth immediately began to strip his mate. She didn’t protest, but she didn’t help either. She lay there, watching him out of huge eyes, shivering as her skin was bared to his gaze. And gaze he did, lingering on the startlingly dark nipples, the thatch of dark blonde hair at the apex of her thighs. Her muscles quivered as he ran his fingers down her legs as gently as he could, tossing her pants and her panties beside his jeans. He didn’t even know how she’d lost those ugly beige pumps of hers, considering she’d only moved enough to help him get her undressed.
She was perfection, blushing perfection.
Gareth took one of her nipples between his teeth, giving in to the urge to nip the budding flesh. He growled as she gasped, arching beneath him, her legs restlessly tangling with his.
Oh, his little warlock liked that. Gareth did it again, and again, switching to the other nipple when her movements became jerky, her cries almost pain-filled. Her hands clenched his shoulders, his biceps, her nails digging into his skin. He loved that stinging pain, the knowledge that she’d marked him again in her own way filling him with joy.
“Oh. Gareth. Please.”
Her eyes were closed, her head tossed back as he savored her breasts. Her breathless cries drove him south, kissing his way down her stomach, touching her hips until she spread for him.
He wasted no time. He needed to see what she looked like as she came, needed to taste her on his tongue as she found her pleasure. He held her hips still when she practically bucked him off at the first touch of his tongue to her clit.
Had no one gone down on her before? She acted like it was new, and he wondered what sort of lovers she’d had before him that she gazed at him now with so much wide-eyed wonder. Just the thought of some phantom man giving her pleasure had him snarling inside, but he kept it to himself. His past wasn’t exactly spotless. He’d had his share of lovers before.
He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he wanted to hunt down each and every man who’d ever touched his mate and string them up by their balls.
So, he was a hypocrite. He could live with that.
She gasped as he took her into his mouth, sucking her clit in rhythmic pulls, determined to get her off before he slid inside her. She struggled against his hold, writhing in his grasp as she sought her pleasure with flushed cheeks and glazed eyes.
Her tiny cries became louder, more frantic, and Gareth followed her cues. He intensified his efforts, stroking a finger over her hole as he continued to devour her.
She cried out, screaming, her eyes clenched shut as she rocketed over the edge.
Oh, Goddess, yes. A screamer. His favorite fucking kind.
He slid a finger inside her, frowning slightly at how she flinched. She was tight, tighter than any female he’d touched this way, but then she bucked, driving his finger deeper into her. Gareth continued to lick her pussy, keeping her from coming too far down from the orgasm high. He wanted her wet and panting, desperate for him to come inside her. So he stroked her, fucking her with his finger gently at first, then picking up speed as he began once more to suck on her clit.
She liked that, if her increasing whimpers were anything to go by. So he added another finger, stretching her. He wasn’t huge in size, but she was so tight he was afraid he’d accidentally hurt her if he drove into her without loosening her first.
Whatever experience his mate had, it couldn’t be a lot. Either that, or it had been so long since she’d fucked that she was practically a virgin.
A virgin at twenty-two, in this day and age? Gareth almost laughed. That was as probable as Daniel trying out for RuPaul’s Drag Race.
She cried out, startling him as she clenched around his fingers. Gen in the throes of orgasm was a beautiful sight, one he planned on seeing over and over again.
Before she was done he was crawling up her body, ready to slide inside her, fuck her until she screamed for him again. He kissed her, let her taste herself on his lips as he gently slid his cock along her hole.
She froze beneath him as he nudged inside, wincing as he invaded her.
Shit. Guess he’d be buying Daniel a sparkling dress and glitter lipstick. “Gen?”
“Yes?”
Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, so Gareth stilled. As desperately as he wanted to just thrust inside her, his mate’s needs came first, always. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
“No, I—”
“Gen.”
She mewled, the sound surprisingly kittenish. “I may have a little less experience than most women my age.”
Gareth pushed forward slightly, stilling when her expression became pain-filled. “A little?”
“A lot, a lot.” She grasped his biceps surprisingly hard. “Just…give me a minute.”
He would give her forever, no matter how difficult that was. Her expression eased, and she nodded. He inched forward again, freezing until she gave him the go-ahead.
Slowly, ever so painfully slowly, Gareth entered his mate. By the time he was fully seated he was aching so badly he thought his balls might explode, but at least his mate didn’t seem to be in any more pain. Still, he waited, softly kissing her lips, her throat, nibbling on her ear until her hands began to clench and unclench on his arms. Her hips lifted, driving him deeper inside, and those whimpering little cries started up again.
Thank fuck, she was ready.
“We’re going to have a little chat about the importance of telling me things like, ‘Oh, by the way, I’ve never made love before.’ Got it, sweetheart?” Gareth punctuated his words with a shallow thrust, smiling as she gasped.
“Gareth.”
“The only thing I want to hear is ‘yes, Gareth’.” He thrust again, this time a little deeper, a little harder. He wouldn’t ride her the way he’d originally planned. She might be The Little Virgin That Could, but he’d cut his own nuts off before he hurt her. So he kept his movements gentle, shallow until she indicated she was ready for more. And even then, he fucked her gently, slowly as he gave her a sweetness he hadn’t known he was capable of.
Oh, it was good. Better than he’d thought it would be. Taking his time, savoring every thrust, the ways she moaned and gasped and began babbling for more, had him feeling more like a king than all the sire this and sire that.
“Oh. Oh. Goddess, Gareth.” Her eyes were glazing over, her lips parted as she gasped. “Oh, please.”
“What do you want, sweetheart?” He kept his thrusts deep and slow, fighting his own orgasm with everything in him. He needed her to come first.
“Gareth. Please.”
Her desperate tone, the way her cheeks flushed and she couldn’t meet his eyes, all screamed her lack of experience. Gareth wasn’t bastard enough to force her to say what she wanted. Eventually he’d get his prim and proper mate to whisper filthy things in his ear while they fucked, but for now, he’d accept her nonverbal cues and leave it at that.
So he sped up his thrusts, tilting her hips until she gave a startled gasp. There you are. He was brushing her clit with every stroke, driving her higher and higher as his fangs descended.
Not yet. Not yet, he chanted desperately to his wolf. Soon.
Soon, but not yet.
She cried out, a tight, breathless sound as she spasmed around him, dragging him over the edge with her. Stars danced behind his closed eyelids as he shuddered above her, panting as pure ecstasy blinded him, turning his world white.
And when it was over, when his skin slid across hers as he turned and cradled her close, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that as soon as he caught his breath they’d be doing that again, and again and again. His mate was addictive, and he’d never get enough of her.
Gen woke slowly, as she was wont to do, her brain about two steps behind her body. Stretching slowly, she paused as her toes encountered…another leg?
What in the world?
She opened her eyes and glanced warily next to her. What fresh hell had her family…
The face of the man next to her finally registered.
Oh.
Oh.
Goddess above, she’d slept with Gareth.
Gareth.
Gen pinched herself as hard as she could, wincing at the pain.
Yes. She was, in fact, awake. And Gareth was, in fact, lying next to her, his glorious nakedhood covered by a thin gray sheet. He was sound asleep, his jaw slack, the usual fierceness of his expression giving way to a little boy softness that had her wanting to coo.
But he wasn’t a little boy, not at all. He had a hairy chest, one that begged to be stroked, with hard pectoral muscles and six-pack abs to die for. She had to resist the urge to reach out and pet the dark pelt that covered him from pecs to penis. Even his thighs and biceps were sprinkled with dark hair, thinning out down to his ankles and wrists. She understood now why he didn’t wear one of those metal watchbands that stretched. It would constantly get caught, pulling at the hairs on his arms.
