Blood of Stars and Gods Page 20

  The sweetness of his tongue entices, entrances, intoxicates me. The light caress of his thumbs along my neck sends an electrifying thrilling tingle throughout my body, and I wonder if he realizes he does it. Lingeringly kissing my chin, my cheek, my jaw, finding his lips rest at my ear, the words spoken in the breathless whisper of a secret long-held and fearfully shared. “I do not simply love you. I worship your every breath, your every heartbeat, find sustenance in the sound of your voice, and my life’s purpose in each smile which graces your lips.”

  His mouth moves tenderly to my neck, divine in every sensation he elicits from my body, my hands wandering down his strong arms, delighting in their feel, more impressively toned and powerful than he appears when clothed. I’m in awe of Dante’s body, nothing like I expected as I trace my fingers over the smooth muscles of his chest and stomach, not the brute strength and build of a dragon, but perfection in his own right. Running my fingers along the waist of his pajama pants, a soft moan escapes him as I encourage their removal, surprised when he grasps my hands.

  “Caitriona, I would be quite remiss to ignore the respect you are due in favor of my own desires.”

  Try as I might, I can’t stop myself from laughing at least a tiny bit, earning a rather hurt expression from the demigod. “Dante, no one, and I do mean no one, has ever shown me the respect you have. You’ve never been less than a perfect gentleman, never pushed me farther than I was willing. You stepped into the background and became nothing more than a friend when you knew it was the right thing to do. You’ve been honest and played it straight with me when you could have lied. And now this. Do you honestly believe I think ritual bathing and fragrant oils can prove anything to me your actions haven’t already?”

  He stares at me blankly, letting loose of my hands, and I pull off my shoes and socks, standing to wiggle out of my jeans, watching his eyebrows almost hit his hairline. “I …” His mouth falls open then closes again, eyes staying on me, clad in pale blue lace bra and panties. Swallowing hard, those vivid blue eyes devour me. “Are you—” I nod before he finishes.

  “It is real, Dante. Right here, right now, I know I could love you forever and never be disappointed in the husband you would be. There is nothing in the man you are that isn’t worthy of being loved. I’m sorry it takes the effects of your blood to protect our family, and that the greater effects complicate this. I’m sorry if that leaves you doubting us or you or me in the end because you shouldn’t.” Reaching behind my back, I unclasp my bra, letting the straps fall off my shoulders, the lacy garment falling to the floor then slide the soft blue lace over my hips, down my legs, stepping out to leave myself completely bared as I meet the intense Atlantic blue of his eyes. “Always remember this moment. Before your blood changes everything, I wanted you. I wanted this. I wanted us, Dante.”

  He stands and closes the distance between us, hands in my hair, lips on mine, and lets me slide his pants past his hips and to the floor this time. Meeting his body to mine with no more walls between us, only need and desire, Dante turns me toward the bed, leaning me back, guiding me to fall onto it, careful not to land hard atop me, lifting me with more strength than I realized he had, settling my head onto the pillows, a smile playing at his lips. “We will be one.”

  “I will be yours, and you will be mine, forever.” I try not to think of where I remember those words from and the feelings I should have for the man I once shared that promise with, but sometimes even what is eternal must change.

  Dante shakes his head, kissing me, unhurried, hands in my hair, holding me close, and my hands instinctively find his back, running along the muscles as they flex with the tiniest movement, sliding my legs over his, around him, wanting to keep him there, afraid to lose him just as I’ve lost too much already. “Ours is not a claiming of one another, Caitriona, not a matter of ownership, property, or territorial stakes in mating. This is not animalistic. We are of the divine.”

  “The divine,” I repeat, still unsure I believe the concept about myself.

  “Yes. The divine. Our blood joins, bonding our gifts, our unique powers, sealing our souls into a unified eternal entity among the High Realm.” He shifts his body atop mine, stirring something far more carnal than divine within me. “Even as a half-god, I am the sole son of the Mother Goddess, Caitriona. My powers far exceed those of most full gods significantly older than I. Perhaps now you understand why I do not take the notion of marriage within the High Realm lightly.” Studying my face, Dante brushes a thumb over my cheek, a smile doesn’t quite erase the pain still hiding in his eyes. “If you will receive everything of my abilities then I insist I have the ability to give you everything I am.”

  “You’d never marry without love.” I kiss his neck, recalling a conversation we once had. “You aren’t, Dante.”

  His eyes drop to my lips, hand gliding along my body, caressing tenderly, lingering each time my breath hitches and my eyes close, until he finds my inner thigh, and he lazily strokes the skin there, each stroke reaching higher, the tingling of his touch sparking a deeper need within me. “If you have not my heart, I share not more than flesh.” Dante’s accent wraps sensual and thick around each word as his control wanes, head dipping toward my neck, his breath warm, sweet, and perfect. “I shall give you my all, Caitriona, withholding nothing.”

  Lips on my skin, electricity pouring through me with each kiss to my neck, his fingers find me heated, slick, needing him more with each passing moment, and he delves in, thumbing my clit, the tingling of his touch charging my body with explosive desire. The faint snick of fangs dropping barely registers in my mind beyond the reigning sensation of electricity coursing throughout, making me hum like a live wire.

  Fingers tightening in my hair, Dante guides me to turn my head, exposing my neck farther, a small moan of need and desire slipping from him just before his fingers push harder, quickening the pace of distracting pleasure and he buries his fangs in my neck, feeling like no more than pinpricks in the ecstasy he’s ensured for me. But there’s something so intimate in knowing he’s biting me, taking in my blood, a part of my body becoming a part of his forever, I want more than he’s giving.

  “Dante, I want you, want to feel you.” I’m breathless, my heart racing, and he doesn’t release my neck, but I buck my hips into his, and he responds without hesitation, fingers slipped out, hardened shaft thrusting deep in their place. Crying out his name, I tighten my legs around him, meeting each thrust with my hips, fingernails in his back, thrilling at the sensation of his bite, his muffled moans into my neck, hand gripping the flesh at my hips, fingers tangled in my hair.

  The carnal pleasures of the divine. My last fully coherent thought before the powerful surge overtakes me, and just as he so desperately wanted, I come undone beneath him, responding to his touch. Screaming his name and unintelligible exclamations of ‘oh my god’, hearing a slight chuckle at those words, his tongue on my neck then lips on mine, his kiss, blunt teeth, the taste of blood. Promises of everything, eternity, and such utter devotion fill each breath shared, tears fall from us both as he cries out my name, releasing a torrent of love held prisoner in the heart of a god.

  Sweat glistening off his body in the low light, breathing hard, Dante leans down to meet his forehead to mine, kissing my nose. “You’re actually sweaty.” I laugh, surprised.

  “Indeed. I am half-human, though I may not often seem it. My body does, at times, behave as such.” Brushing his lips over mine, he rocks his body into me again, reaching a state of readiness at a most inhuman speed. “I am sorry, Caitriona. I believe I failed to satisfy you to the fullest extent of my abilities. In the enormity of the moment, I found myself quite overtaken.”

  “Dante, if that was you failing to satisfy, I’m unsure any human woman could possibly handle whatever it is you think qualifies as mission accomplished.”

  The emptiness he leaves feels almost painful as he slithers down my body, leaving a trail of electrified kisses in his path, each one unhurried and q
uite satisfying. Pulling my legs into his arms as he settles between them, he rests my thighs on his shoulders, tongue lightly dancing over flesh still sensitive, swollen, yet wholly aroused by each intimate caress Dante lavishes on me with reverential desire.

  Heart racing, nails clawing at the bedding, he takes me beyond human limitations into a place within I didn’t know existed. Long, languid strokes, penetrating exploration, this god’s tongue lifts me to the highest realm until I’m freefalling, head thrown back in the pillows, unable to find the clarity of mind to form words, his arms wrapped around my legs, holding me still until he’s satisfied I’ve been given everything possible. Relenting in his heavenly torture, I don’t even hear the dropping of his fangs, feeling just the slight prick on my inner thigh, his mouth on me, passionate, determined, yet the moment passes almost before I realize it began.

  Without a word required to express my need, Dante’s buried inside me, filling me, lifting me higher toward the clouds, the free-fall farther and more exhilarating. His lips on mine, body pressed to mine, our hearts pounding, breaths heavy, everything with Dante feels so entirely human yet divine beyond doubt.

  He slows, moving against me with practiced expertise. Each catch in my breath, gasp, moan, or slightest graze of my teeth over my lower lip provides exactly the hint Dante needs to maintain the rush taking hold of my senses, the fire blazing in my veins, the sprinting race of my heart toward an unforeseeable finish line he seems determined to keep out of my reach. Such sinful torture, I’m almost convinced he’s a delicious and deviant sex god when his blue eyes meet mine, sparkling in their vibrant intensity.

  “Are you sure, Caitriona? Say no, and I swear to think no less of you, my love.” His words are cautious, whispered, and full of pain or fear or guilt, maybe all.

  Holding him closer to me, legs tighter around his body, nails dug into his back, not letting go, I don’t dare move my eyes off his. “Yes.”

  With one last hesitating breath, he nods, the snick of fangs filling the silence between us, and he leans down to bite his own bicep fiercely. Dante pulls me into an embrace, and I find my mouth at his arm, the unexpected sweetness in the scent of his blood enticing a hunger within me. The second my lips touch his skin, my tongue tasting him, he releases a low moan, his body reacting in ways I’m unsure he can quite control, fueling the desire already inside him. Harder, faster, needier, he buries himself deeply into me, encouraging my want to draw every drop I can pull from him, his taste, the intoxication, his passion, the intensity, overwhelming all else.

  In a final thrust, electrifying heat surging throughout my body, Dante cries out my name, incoherently following with words foreign to me. My head feels light, somehow separate from the rest of my body as I reach a cataclysmic high, and his head falls to the pillow beside me, nose buried in my hair, lips at my ear.

  A tender kiss to my cheek, the warmth of tears falling on my face, and soft words spoken, Dante is gentle and sweet, everything I could want of him.

  Eyes falling closed, my mind drifts toward the light, unable to respond as his whispered words hang in the air.

  “Forgive me, Theo, my old friend. I mean no ill.”

  Chapter 18

  *Theo*

  Resting a hand on the door, I cannot bring myself to knock quite yet. Despite the confusion between us, within our bond, I hold no doubt what course of action Cait has set upon in the aftermath of yesterday’s events. She pulled me close only to grow distant as the reality of Oliver’s death set in, the reality dragons can die, though we will return. Knowing death will make him different, would make any of us different than the family she now knows consumes her with fear. Changing her mind may be impossible, even the attempt a futile task, but I refuse to live with the regret of not trying.

  Dante throws the door open wide, short of breath, barefoot, shirtless, hair mussed. His mark has changed, a far darker silver now. I meet his eyes. “It is done?”

  He sucks in air, looking to the floor, words spilling out at a fervent pace. “I swear I shall apologize infinitely over the course of our existence as I do greatly fear the damage this may cause our friendship, but for now, may we forgo prolific explanations and concern ourselves with a most urgent matter at hand?”

  I don’t wait for an invitation, though he moves aside, gesturing me to enter as I’m already through the door, passing by him, searching for Cait. “Forgo prolific, but I will be damned if you do not explain what the fuck happened.” She sits on the edge of the bed; face turned from me, yet I know Cait too well. I have no need to see her eyes to see they are full of tears she refuses to shed.

  “I didn’t forget.”

  Her voice is so small, but her words carry such weight I cannot bear them. Stumbling a few steps back, I catch myself on the dresser, opening my mouth in want of answers, but have too many questions, and nothing comes out.

  “I did not intend …” A forceful heavy exhale stops Dante. “This may very well be my fault.”

  “Dante, what did you do?” I demand, and am stern, unwavering in my expectation of a direct answer, quick and most forthcoming.

  Pacing across the room, my old friend stops to look out the window, eyes darting everywhere but at me. “Her blood.” He turns and stares at me, through me, off to some distant place filled with unspeakable guilt and regret. “I believe I took far too much of her blood. That must be what I have done. … What caused this, but I had to be sure it was enough. I needed it. I swore we could protect everyone we love,” he says through gritted teeth, eyes closed, and I’m unsure if this is his conclusion or some fault he cannot justify.

  I close my own eyes, inhaling slowly, knowing Dante has refused even a taste of blood since his renouncement of vampirism, sworn he lacks the draw to do so and fears an inability to control the desire should he allow himself to engage in the pleasure. “You fed on her during a moment of intimacy?” Combining sexual gratification and blood can lead down a dangerous path of addiction for any vampire, originator of the species or not. “As long as it has been since you last did such a thing, did it not occur to you that was quite possibly the least considered decision you have made in the history of our friendship?”

  He looks at me with the eyes of a chastised child. “My control lacks nothing.” Those eyes sadden to a deeper shade of blue than I can recall in all our centuries. “Not for one moment did I allow the carnality of instinctual urges or any part of that monster within me to taint what I know to be the singular most beautiful memory I shall ever hold in my existence.” His shoulders fall, a sigh escaping, an air of defeat surrounding Dante. “I believe the fault lies in the decision to take her blood prior to giving her my own … twice.”

  Cait stands, dabbing the sleeve of her sweater at her cheeks, and I want to hold her, take the pain away. “Do you really need to discuss details?” She glares at us both before settling a somewhat softer look on him. “The bond was supposed to change everything, Dante. Why should the order matter?”

  “Because your blood holds magnificent power as the North Star, Cait, and his amplifies anything it absorbs. He looped that back into you when giving you his own blood.” Cait meets my gaze with those wide blue eyes, and countless millennia I’ve lived mean nothing. I die inside at the sight, unable to hold her in my arms again, no longer mine. “I know what you intended in this, Cait, but you should not have done so. We do not need your protection.”

  “It’s not about what you think you need, Theo. When Oliver died, I wasn’t the only one in tears. You held me in your arms, and your jaded-to-death exterior crumbled. You don’t want anyone’s protection, but I want to keep you safe. I need to.”

  “And you allowed this. You could not sway her from such foolish wants.” I regret the accusation of my friend the moment I speak it. No one sways Cait from anything, and Dante does not break his promises.

  “He didn’t—”

  “Caitriona.” Dante raises his hand to her, eyes on me with an unsettling intensity, and the commanding tone he’s
taken silences even Cait. “I did not allow this. I made good on my word. In no way do I agree that wanting your loved ones free from harm’s path is foolish. Caitriona is not the only one who wishes to see you safe, Theo. She is not alone in never wanting to bear the pain of your death. If I fear the heartbreak of a loss I understand to be such a temporary thing, how do you imagine her to feel?”

  With a deep breath, I calm my desire to wrap my hand around his neck, growling and demanding how it is he can justify his fear of heartbreak by taking everything from me, but he did not act alone. Cait chose this.

  “Then it is done. You are bonded, so is your blood and everything you both are. If Cait did not forget, then she remembers the choice she had and why she made this decision.” I stare at the floor and hope she can forgive me for such coldness, but anything else would unleash the hurt I refuse to share.

  “You … you don’t understand anything that’s happening,” she shrieks at me. “It’s not about not forgetting. I remember everything.” She’s taken a few steps closer, and I meet her eyes at those words. “Rather than lose memories and feelings, every memory and feeling I’d lost came flooding back. I remember every moment, every touch, every feeling. I remember every bit of how much I love you, Theo.”

  Turning away from her, I bury my face in my hands. “That no longer matters. It is too late for us.” By sacred High Realm law, Cait has married Dante in a manner only those of divine blood can. All emotions aside, the sanctity of that union holds far too great a value among all eternals to disavow honor, demanding anything simply for the sake of want.

  I hear the soft sound of her feet on the wood floor and the mattress give under her as she sinks into it. “You really will put your damned honor over everything, won’t you?”

  When I look in the dresser mirror, I catch her reflection over my shoulder, the sight of the tears in her eyes and drive my fist into the glass, unable to bear the combined pain we hold. “I am a dragon, Cait. What do expect of me? Without honor, I have nothing.”