Hunger Untamed (Feral Warriors #5)(29)

Her mouth moved to his jaw, to his neck. "Let it go, Kougar. Let the anger go and feel the pleasure. Just feel. Just this once."

She rubbed the tight nubs of her ni**les against his bare chest, and he was lost. Naked and warm in his arms, she was living, lily-of-the-valley-scented fire, and he wanted her with a need that stripped him of all control.

Holding her with one hand, he slid the other between her legs, finding again the source of her heat. Goddess, but she was hot and wet, ready for him as she'd always been. The sex had been the best part of those two years.

Conflicting emotions crashed inside the walls of his chest. He wanted to hurt her as she'd hurt him, until she cried out with the pain of it. And his arms shook with the need to free himself and shove his c**k inside her until they both screamed with pleasure.

But he wasn't completely out of control. Not yet.

Pulling her off him, he tossed her onto the middle of the bed, shaking with the need to follow her down.

Ariana stared up at Kougar as he stood beside the bed. His emotions pulsed down the mating bond, pounding at her even when he wasn't touching her. Her breaths were shallow, her body on fire from the feel of his hands and his gaze, and the sheer magnitude of her own desire for this man.

She wanted him, needed him, in so many ways. But the tight line of his body and the rigid set of his jaw made it all too clear he didn't want to give in. Though seduction was as innate to any Ilina as breathing, she wouldn't employ such tactics. If he came to her, it would be through his own free will, not her machinations.

They'd already hurt one another in too many ways.

So she waited for him to make the decision, watching the battle in his eyes. The small flare of frustrated anger told her it was over.

She'd won.

He pulled off his ripped shirt, revealing the beautifully sculpted, lightly furred chest she'd loved so well. Claw marks tore across his abdomen--red welts that looked new though he'd had them since the day he was first marked to be a Feral Warrior well over a thousand years ago. Watching her with predatory eyes, he climbed onto the bed, moving between her parted legs like a cat on the prowl. His eyes were steel, his powerful shifter's body as dangerous as it was beautiful as he bent over her and lowered his face to her breast, watching her the entire way down.

He claimed her breast without gentleness, his passion barely controlled, sucking the fullness into his mouth on a hard, desperate tug that sent pleasure arcing through her body and down into her core. As if he felt her need, his fingers reached between her legs, stroking her damp, swollen flesh before two dove inside, claiming her with sure, hard strokes.

Another hard surge of anger hit her through the mating bond, puncturing the intense pleasure, telling her he hated his own weakness in needing to touch her. This wasn't the way it used to be between them. This wasn't the way it was ever supposed to be, but she'd ended all chance for anything more when her world had come crashing down around her, and she'd left him thinking her dead.

The pleasure, though intense, was hollow. Still, she needed the strength it would give her to battle back the darkness that attacked her from within.

His bearded mouth left one breast damp and throbbing, to claim the other. Her fingers caressed his short hair as she thrust her hips against his hand, forcing his fingers deeper and deeper inside her.

How could so much pleasure leave her feeling so empty?

He released her breast, pulling his fingers from her, only to replace them with his mouth. His tongue delved into her inner depths, drawing a moan from her throat. His hands slid beneath her hips, lifting her, splaying her wide as he devoured her, his tongue moving out of her to circle the tight knot of nerve endings.

Clasping the bedspread, she hung on against the rising passion tearing through her body.

He pleasured her. Goddess, he pleasured her, but there was no tenderness. If he'd been fully in control he wouldn't be touching her at all, she was sure of it. And the knowledge that he touched her against his will filled her with a sweeping sadness, an ache in that part of her heart that had always belonged to him, despite all that had happened.

With his mouth working her clit, he shoved the two fingers back inside her and within moments she came with an exploding rush of ecstasy and emptiness. Once upon a time, when she and Kougar were in love, she'd often started to turn to mist as she'd climaxed and would have to battle it back until he followed. Then she'd let the mist overtake her just enough that he'd sink into her body, making them truly one. He'd loved it when she did, the sensation moving and powerfully erotic for both of them.

But there was none of that this time. Even if she weren't wearing the moonstones, she doubted she'd be compelled to turn to mist. While her body metabolized the pleasure of their joining, the lack of closeness, not to mention the enmity, left her feeling bereft.

Kougar rose slowly from between her legs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, watching her with catlike intensity. Without a word, he rose with that animal grace and padded to the door in the back corner of the room. The bathroom, she realized, as he went in and closed the door behind him, shutting her out.

Flinging her arm across her forehead, Ariana stared up at the ceiling, her body pulsing with glorious release, her chest hollow. With her hands free, she reached for the moonstones but couldn't bring herself to chant the magic of transport. The Ferals had promised to try to help her, and though she hadn't expected to trust them, she found that she did. She sensed a strength and honor in Lyon to rival that which she'd always seen in Kougar. And she'd be a fool to turn her back on their offer of help, especially with their friends' lives such a powerful force driving them to succeed.