What happens when a sheltered cat-shifter and a dark fey come together? Born in 18th Century France, Daitre is a beautiful, naïve heiress whose true heritage has been kept secret, even from her, but now that her abilities are emerging, her father’s enemies want her dead. When Joban, professional guard and dark fey, agrees to marry her, he whisks her three-hundred years into the future, but their enemies have followed – more deadly than ever.
“Breathe, Dai! You’re forgetting the first thing I taught you. Where’s your head today? Were you not standing next to me when Auriel said our enemies are not only murdering us at will, but capturing and doing studies on us?”
Daitre lowered her arm and replaced the gun’s safety. She took an anxious breath. Since their brief moment several days ago, he’d seldom looked at her, distancing himself whenever she tried to get his attention for anything other than training.
“Am I training you too hard? You’ve done well all week. What’s different today?”
“Stop yelling at me! I’m just tired. Don’t you think I’m already scared enough? Do you think I want to be murdered, captured, treated like a lab rat? We’ve gone from two times a day to three times a day, I’m running, sparring, you’ve taught me to pick a lock, jump-start a car, and I’ve learned to use every weapon on that table of yours in just over a week. You told me yourself I learned so fast I must be a natural, but I need more than training to live. I need more than survival training. I’m human, Joban, and you seem to forget that…you always have.”
“Everything I do is to keep you safe, Dai, and you are not human. Time is not—”
She turned swiftly, put the gun back in its place on the table, then left the basement without another word. Once again, he missed the point. She needed his attention, his acceptance, his love.
Screaming in her head demanded she return to him, follow his instructions, do whatever she needed to please him, but her instincts won out when she reminded herself that more of the same on her part would produce more of the same from him, and she desperately needed something different.
Daitre stepped into the bedroom bath and dashed cold water on her face to keep from crying, Auriel’s words running through her mind. The fear of being captured, poked and prodded by her father’s enemies haunted her.
She hit the light switch, stepping out of the bathroom with every intention of going straight to her bed for a much needed nap, but as she passed his make-shift bed, she couldn’t help stopping. Daitre sat, tentative at first, but the deafening silence in the room urged her on.
She lifted his pillow to her face and rested her cheek against it, his cinnamon and woods scent prompting her to inhale deeply, eyes closed. The mere scent of him triggered a reaction in her body, causing her to stretch, savoring the pleasant tingle zinging straight to her clit and flashing outward again, a delicious warmth infusing her body – arousal.
She dropped the pillow and jumped up, eyes wide. Joban stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable until his mouth covered hers. She knew he’d used his time-bending ability because she hadn’t seen him move. One moment he watched her embarrassing display from the doorway, the next he was on her, his huge arms wrapped around her waist, lips claiming hers.
Her mind raced but her body responded on instinct, clinging to him, writhing to be free of every and anything separating her from him. As if he heard her plea, Joban released her long enough to respond in his usual dictatorial manner.
“Take these off.” He used his eyes to stress his meaning, stoking her fire with a head to toe gaze, stormy gray depths offering a glimpse of yet another side of him she longed to explore further. She removed her dress with one hand, the other in contact with him at all times, sliding along his torso, tracing his Adam’s apple, gliding around to the muscles at his back. She’d wanted to touch him like this for so long. Now that she had access, she didn’t dare let go, fearful he’d change his mind.
Finally, she stood before him naked, grateful for the scarcity of clothing women of this time wore, skin burning as her inner lioness pressed outward, raring to pounce. Joban bent just enough to wrap his forearms around her thighs and lifted her from the floor as he stood, her head and shoulders above his.
Her lioness stretched against him, placing her hands on his broad, muscular shoulders to brace herself.
Joban wrapped one arm under her buttocks and placed the other hand at her back to support her, sliding his tongue around her belly button and dipping it inside before allowing her to glide down his torso, her long legs wrapping around his waist automatically as she reached eye level again.
He carried her to the bed and gently placed her in the center, his knee between her thighs.
He rose and removed his T-shirt, angry red tribal tattoos making him even more irresistible, drawing an inner roar from her jungle cat.
She brushed his dark hair out of his eyes, always just a little too long in the front, and he caught her wrist, lifting it to his lips to place a kiss on the inside.
Daitre raised her other hand to frame his face, prominent cheekbones and hard, masculine jawline giving at her touch, his entire body heated, coiled, and she lay back, satisfied in knowing he would take complete control. Her cat purred, pleased for once.
Joban did not disappoint, leaning down to nip her neck and shoulders, then blazing a path of tiny circles with his tongue from the tiny hollow between her breasts to her trembling navel, hungry for his invasion again. The texture of his tongue on her soft skin burned, the sensation new and exciting, like wet, fine sandpaper, preparing her, molding her.
His movements pierced the intense silence, the wispy sounds of crisp sheets, skin sliding against skin, and her gaze fell on the tiny nuances of his muscular back, every movement, every vibration increasing her need to feel him inside her, thick and hard like the rest of his overpowering body.
She understood the intensity and nature of her desire for him in that moment. She wanted to be consumed by him, taken passionately, thoroughly, something she’d never imagined let alone wanted before she met him.
Read more about Dai’s Dark Valentine from Dariel Raye at the follow links:
Image courtesy of Dariel Raye
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