Czytaj książkę: «Moonspun»

Chapter One

Shifted into werewolf form, naked and glistening beneath the moonlight, his wife’s body glided above Creed Saint-Pierre. Her rhythm grew faster, frenzied. The soft black fur at her shoulders, hips and thighs gleamed like moonspun hematite. Nearby, faery lights danced within the thick foliage surrounding them on this cozy moss-covered dais within the forest.

She squeezed his cock with her powerful muscles, forging him into hot steel, pulsing and ready—so close. Creed dug his fingers into the moss and clenched his teeth. A fang cut his lip and blood rolled down his chin. His hips bucked and his thigh muscles strained.

And when he could no longer resist the call to lunge forward and sink his fangs into his lover’s neck, he instead closed his eyes and surrendered to the wicked union of vampire and werewolf. Exquisite. Dangerous. Blu’s throaty growls preceded the orgasm that captured them and shook their bodies together, spasming, clutching, clinging.

Loving. Always and ever.

Creed’s groan, long and loud, echoed up through the tree canopy. He exhaled, his tight muscles giving way to the luxurious fire molting through him.

Blu pushed away from him with taloned paws. His cock slipped from her hot depths and landed on his stomach. The werewolf lashed her tongue across the crimson claw marks serrating his chest above the nipple. Leaping off him, she dashed into the night.

“I love you, too,” he called after her. “You gorgeous she-wolf!”

The faeries bobbling overhead swirled in a ribbon behind the werewolf, eager to follow her romping lopes. The wolf’s howls echoed up to her moonlight master, a gorgeous silver medallion suspended high in the charcoal spring sky.

Propping up on his elbows, Creed dragged his tongue over the blood pearling on his lip. His fangs always came down during sex, though he could control it if he had the mind to. “I’ve got to stop doing that.” Then he chuckled, because being so lost in the enjoyment of his wife was not something he ever wanted to stop.

He stroked his fingers over the talon wounds on his chest, feeling the skin knit and heal with a tightening that always made him wince. Rolling onto his side, he spied the silhouette of his wife framed between birch trees that had only begun leafing out from their buds to perfume the air with spring. Her body shifted and her wolfish head changed to human form. Luscious dark hair spilled down her slender neck and her shoulders dropped, losing the muscle and bulk she took on when in werewolf shape. A beautiful creature, she, when wearing fur and howling at the moon, yet more stunning when in human form and with moonlight bejeweling her pale, dewy skin.

He watched as she raked her fingers through her hair, causing it to spill out in the dark veil Creed loved to feel sweep across his body. Blu turned and skipped back to him, her bare feet tracking the forest floor still carpeted with fall’s soggy, brown leaves. With a giggle, she landed on him, straddling his hips and brushing aside the hair from his face. The glitter in her gray eyes could lead a man through the darkest night, yet Creed would allow no man to follow his wife, for she belonged to him.

“Sorry about that, lover.” She kissed the scars tracing from his shoulder to pectoral; the skin would be smooth, scarless by morning. “You know my wolf likes it rough.”

“I like you rough, howling, and any way I can get you.”

“Mmm, you’re so good to me, vampire.” She nipped him on the shoulder, but didn’t sink in her teeth. Though he bit her on rare occasions, she had not developed a blood hunger, and had never bitten him to drink blood in return. “Race you to the shower?”

“Only if we can do this again. Inside?”

“Hell yeah, I’m not sated yet. And to judge from this hard fella—” She sucked the head of his cock slowly, twisting her tongue about it, then winked at him. “—you’re not, either. Go!”

She dashed off, and Creed sat up, chuckling at her antics. He’d let her win. Because she always won. She was faster than him. Faster to tease him, faster to fall into his arms. Faster to love him.

And he was grateful his heart had grown steadfast for his werewolf wife.

* * *

Cherry-red fingernails glided over the black satin sheets, clutching, then releasing the slippery fabric. Her lover’s tongue performed the same slippery glide over her skin, purposeful and determined to lick every inch, and taste every drop of water following the shower. He meant to devour her and she enjoyed being the feast.

Blu Saint-Pierre purred like a kitten, and the image of a pleased feline curling about a vampire’s legs made her laugh.

Creed looked up from her stomach, where he’d been lashing at her navel. Dark hair hung over his brows. “You find this funny?”

“I was thinking I sound like a kitten purring under your expert tongue.”

“You do. I love your purrs, my pretty little kitty cat.”

“Don’t you dare start calling me that.” She hooked her legs over his shoulders and redirected his ministrations. “I’m wolf to the core.”

“A wolf who smells like chocolate.” He nipped the inside of her thigh, right there, where the slightest touch made her shiver in anticipation of where he would next touch her skin. “Even down here. Did you bathe in chocolate syrup?”

“I thought you liked sweet treats?”

“I do.” He lashed his tongue across her swollen clitoris, and Blu’s body reacted, her hips surging upward to receive more of his delicious torture. He did not disappoint.

“It’s bath oil,” she said. “Perfumes me even after I’ve dried off.”

“Wear it always.” His fingers slid along her folds, firmly, then softer, knowing exactly how to play her to a humming mess of want and desire. Surrender eddied in her core, challenging her to release even though she was already blissfully sated. “Come for me, lover. My beautiful chocolate-flavored wolf.”

“Not without you.”

Blu shifted her hips, taking Creed by surprise, and flipped him onto his back to land against the pillows with a moan. She shimmied down and kissed his mouth, his chest, his belly and then his magnificent cock.

He in turn spread her legs and buried his tongue inside her. When she nibbled along his thick shaft, he hummed against her delicate folds, and the vibrations rocketed her pleasure to the stratosphere. His hips bucked slowly, demanding his measure, and she slickened her strokes with her tongue and clasped the base of him tightly with one hand while cupping his testicles with the other.

Her vampire husband dropped his head and forgot his attentions to her. She loved that she could command him so easily. “That’s right. You’re mine,” she purred, and another giggle was unavoidable. “But don’t forget about me.”

As he growled against her clit and began to come, she relaxed her tight core muscles and surrendered to a matching climax. Together they cried out, harmonizing in ecstasy. Too much—and not enough—and always just right. Blu lifted up on her palms and her husband slickened her chest with his forceful release.

She fell aside, rolling onto her back, and slid a hand over her chest. Licking her fingers clean refocused her thoughts. So much potential for life in this substance. And then she thought about what she always tried not to think about after sex—a vampire could not get a werewolf pregnant. It wasn’t the way things worked between their breeds, for reasons beyond her ken. Though certainly a werewolf male could impregnate a female vampire. And she had heard rumors the reverse was possible with great magic, or voodoo, or who knew, maybe some kind of faery boon.

Creed nestled alongside her, nudging his nose into her coal-dark hair and cupping her breast with his wide, warm hand. His hard muscles melded against her softness like a puzzle piece finding home. He smelled like sex and chocolate and strength. “What are you thinking about, kitty cat?”

“Creed.”

“Wild-haired sex kitten?”

“Watch it, pale vampire dude.” She reached behind and over her hip and gripped his soft penis, tightly.

“All right, I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “No more teasing.”

She released him. “You start that, and I’ll have to call you longtooth.”

“My teeth are long.” He bit into her shoulder, not breaking skin, though she didn’t mind when he did, rarely, pierce her flesh. “On occasion.”

They’d been forced to marry in a match arranged by the Council, a group that oversaw the paranormal nations. The marriage had been a means to bring together the opposing breeds and begin peace talks. It had worked to the extent that some vampire tribes had gained respect from a few packs, but Blu wasn’t so foolish to believe either breed would ever drop their prejudices and embrace the other graciously.

Surprisingly to both of them, they had fallen in love, and the marriage could be counted a success. And after she’d learned to trust her vampire husband—who had once slain werewolves in medieval times—Blu had allowed him to bite her. With Creed’s bite, they had bonded in a way vampires bonded. Yet werewolves bitten by a vampire almost always developed an unnatural blood hunger. That had not happened to her yet, for which she was thankful. Probably because he had bitten her only a dozen times in a few years. She couldn’t fathom drinking blood for pleasure.

“Deep thoughts?” he wondered, tugging a sheet corner to wipe off her chest. The polite Frenchman to the core, he was warrior, lover and doting husband, all rolled into one fine package.

Deep brown eyes she could stare into forever looked suddenly worried in the soft glow from the bedside lamp. She’d mentioned her deep thoughts casually before, but had never dared say how much those thoughts haunted her of late. They’d been married two years. She adored her husband. To know she would enjoy centuries with him thrilled her beyond measure.

But something was missing. An innate, visceral call to the maternal.

“I want to have your children,” she whispered, feeling as if the confession was so sacred she could only share it with him, and only in quiet tones. “I wish there was a way, Creed.”

Feeling the tender, yet insistent, tug in her chest, she blinked, and Creed traced the tear below her eye.

“If I could make it so, I would, lover mine. I hate seeing you unhappy.”

“I’m never unhappy with you. It’s…well, you lying beside me right now? I was thinking how we’re like pieces of a puzzle perfectly fit. Yet a piece of me is missing, maybe fallen on the floor somewhere, and I can’t seem to find it.”

He kissed her chin, her lips, her eyelids. The reverent stillness allowed her to feel his heartbeats against her chest. If they embraced long enough their heartbeats would synch.

“Wolves are, by nature, family-centric,” she said, pressing her palm over his beating heart. “I want to make babies with you, lover. Have a pack.”

“What if they were vampire babies?”

“Do you think that matters to me? Honestly?”

“No. The whole hating the vamps thing is not within your nature. At least, not any more.”

“I could never hate you. Or any child I had that might have to drink blood to survive. Hell, if I can’t have a pack, I’ll have a tribe! But our children could be wolves.”

“Or half breeds,” he said. “I would love a child too. I crave innocence. The wonder of youth.”

Blu sighed. Such talk stirred a dangerous fantasy. Because that was all it could ever be. “I thought I heard something about saying blessings to Faery if one desired something with all their heart.”

“I’ll say them daily, then.” He clasped her hand and drew it against his heart. “I would die for you, Blu, you know that.”

“Yes, but if you were dead, then who would give me babies?”

He chuckled. “Is this what they call the ticking biological clock?”

“No, it’s an instinctual desire to create a family with the man I love.” She kissed him, dashing her tongue against his fangs, which she knew gave him a visceral thrill. “Would you be upset if I did some research? Tried to find a means to make this happen?”

“Upset? Blu, I’ll help you. After living almost a millennium, nothing could please me more than to finally become a father.”

* * *

“Are you serious?”

Blu rolled over on the huge beach towel spread next to the pool. Bree, her faery best friend, was teleconferencing her via their iPads and had just told her an old faery tale about a kitsune shifter who had wanted to have a vampire’s child. Certain animal breeds could not procreate with vampires. But a faery boon—powerful faery magic—could overcome any genetic obstacle.

“So you think if I asked a faery to help me get pregnant by my husband, it would work?” Creed was inside, lingering in bed, the sun too high to allow him to be out by her side.

“That’s how it worked for the kitsune,” Bree said. “But Blu, it’s an old wives’ tale, and who knows if it’s true.”

“Yeah, but it never hurts to try. Could you give me a boon?”

“Oh no. You’d have to ask a wise faery, a sage, or someone in royalty like a champion or mystic. And you won’t find them wandering about the mortal realm.”

“So I’d have to go to Faery?” She gripped the iPad as if she could reach through the device and grab her friend’s shoulder. “Bree, you have to help me get there.”

“Sweetie, slow down. I know you want this with all your heart.”

“With two hearts, if I had two.”

“No faery will do anything for another being without a return boon.”

“So I have to give them something? That’s cool. We’re rich. I can pay, shower them with diamonds, offer them a condo in Paris.”

Bree laughed, and Blu caught her chin in hand. She knew diamonds meant little to faeries. Nor would mortal money bring up a glint in their violet eyes.

“How do I get to Faery?”

“You don’t. The faery would have to come to you. You’d have to perform a ritual to call them out. I’ll see what I can come up with, okay?”

“I love you, Bree. How’s Rev?”

“You mean the sexy vampire who is lying in my bed right now? I’d say about half-mast, and eager for me to get off the screen.”

“It’s best not to keep hungry vampires waiting. But don’t keep this wolf waiting, either. Call me as soon as you find something.”

She signed off and set the iPad aside. “Maybe this can really happen.”

Filled with hope, Blu tugged off her bikini top and dove into the pool.

* * *

“Thanks, Hawkes. Can you email that spell?” Creed asked.

“Yes, but it’ll take a day or two to have it interpreted,” his friend Rhys Hawkes replied over the phone. Their international connection, from Minneapolis to Paris, was ridden with static.

“I’m glad I contacted you,” Creed said. “If this works, I will make my wife a very happy werewolf.”

He hung up and propped a leg up on the edge of his desk. From the office window, he could see Blu performing some mermaid moves in the pool. Not only would she be happy, but he would as well. He’d walked this world for ages. It was time to view it through an entirely new and wondrous perspective—that of fatherhood.