I paused, remembering that Camille had unfortunately been on the receiving end of a dragon’s hatred—Hyto, Smoky’s father. She had learned just how vicious they could be. “We lit up the sky like a thousand aerial flamethrowers.” And then I was able to tell her about the battle.
When I finished, she was sitting back, her arms wrapped around her knees, shaking her head. “The dragons just saved our butt, you know. What happened sounds horrible, but think about it: Those same armies were the ones who destroyed the elves. They would have gone on to tear through Otherworld and take down every city and country that stood against them. Telazhar was paving the way for Shadow Wing.”
I pressed my lips together and lay back on the bed. “Yeah, I know that. There was nothing else that we could do. You can’t reason with a war machine, and that’s what Telazhar had created. I still can’t believe we destroyed him. I know the Moon Mother had something to do with it—Camille’s magic is strong but not that strong, and that lightning bolt came out of the heavens.”
“Telazhar would have razed her grove. He tried it once before, thousands of years ago, didn’t he? Of course she had something to do with it. Camille’s her Earthside high priestess.” Nerissa leaned over me, on her hands and knees. “And to the victors, the spoils of war,” she said softly, her breath rippling over my breasts.
I gazed up at her, my numbness slowly vanishing as she trailed her fingers along my side, her flesh warm against the chill of my own.
“Are you sure?” I asked softly. “You must be tired.”
She shook her head. “Adrenaline. I waited up for you, to make sure you were coming home to me.” And then she leaned in, pressing her lips against mine, petal-soft and delicate.
I tugged on her sweater, pulling it free from where it was tucked into her jeans, and she slowly backed off the bed, stripping it off with one quick movement. Her jeans landed on top of the sweater, and she shrugged off bra and panties. I watched, making no move, just soaking in the vision that stood before me. My beauty, she could have been Helen of Troy, she could have been a Playboy bunny. Five ten, voluptuous, with full breasts and hips, she glowed with an inner light that soaked through every pore in her body.
A new fire took hold of me, but this time it wasn’t my inner predator. No, this lit a different hunger, and I pushed myself to a sitting position. And then, in a blur, I was on my feet and in front of her, staring up into her face. She leaned down and cupped my chin.
“I want you. Menolly D’Artigo, I claim you as my wife. I claim you as my clan. My pride. My chosen one.” Her words were cloaked in a sultry arrogance, a possessive demand that I instantly responded to.
Pressing against her breasts, I felt the feral need rise up. “I can hear your heartbeat.”
“You’re going to feel more than that.” She pushed me back on the bed and I let her take control. I might be a vampire, but she was a werepuma and no slouch in the strength department. I fell back and she landed on me in a pounce, straddling my hips. Her eyes lit up as she very slowly and deliberately lowered her mouth to my breast. As her lips pressed against my flesh, I gasped, fire shooting a straight line from my nipple to my cunt. I let out a moan as she took hold, nipping me lightly.
“What do you want? What do you need?” Her eyes were glittering and hard as she brought her face up to meet mine. “Who do you want me to be tonight?”
The rush of blood and fire raced through my mind again, and I began to shake. “Just make me forget the blood and the death.”
She gazed down at me for a minute, then stood up and went over to the chest we had designated for our toy box. As she opened the lid, I shivered. I had just given her carte blanche, and sweet or not, my wife could be downright ruthless at times. She had trained under Venus the Moon Child, the shaman of her Pride, and he had taught her how to take pain and transform it into pleasure.
And then she was back, pushing my arms over my head, tying my wrists firmly with a velvet rope and looping it over the hook at the top of our bed.
“Don’t speak. Do as I say.” Her cheeks were flushed as she slid the blindfold over my eyes.
In the darkness, I felt her spread my legs and, with my knees slightly bent, she bound my ankles to a spreader bar. The music started up—Rob Zombie blasting out of the speakers. As the driving beat raced through my body, overwhelming me, I could only wait for what she chose to do next.