The scent of her arousal began to intoxicate him, to fill his senses with tormented desires that could not be slaked now. She pulled her lips from his and pressed her forehead against his chest. “You must stop kissing me.”
He could easily smell her scent calling to him with her readiness. The smell of her arousal was like a dagger to his gut. So why the resistance? “Why?”
“I do not need to give a reason,” she murmured and pushing away from him. I cannot think when you touch me.
He caught the edges of her thoughts before she pulled from their connection.
“I can smell your arousal. I can hear your heart beating for me.”
She faltered into absolute stillness, her eyes widened. “You can smell me?” she croaked, her entire body flushing a becoming pink.
“Yes.”
“You smell like fire and sweetness, and my mouth waters for a taste of you.”
He pushed the image at her, of him before her on his knees, her pussy on his tongue as he lapped at her wet folds. His mate blushed even more. Before she could reply, he took her into the shadows and into his chambers on the fifth floor of the castle. They spilled into the room, and she glanced around dazedly.
“Your speed rivals those who have the skill of teleportation on my world. You are very impressive Lachlan Ravenswood. And this is a beautiful chamber.”
She moved away from him, striving to appear unconcerned but he could see the fine trembling along her elegant spine. Nervousness flowed through their connection, and he sensed she was desperately fighting to deny the arousal thrumming through her body. She craved him, even if she did not understand why, and the awareness filled him with heady satisfaction. The scent of her wetness and spice had his cock hardening on a pleasurable pulse.
“I must meet with my king. I have delayed enough. When I took the witch in the shadows, I also collected the bags you had packed. They are on the bed.”
She spun around to face him. “I thought…” Her eyes glowed with something dark and mysterious.
He could barely breathe with wanting, but how he wanted to take his mate could not be done in a few minutes or an hour. The night would be theirs when he claimed her. He moved with speed behind her and allowed his hands to settle at her hips, his fingers curling over her fragile bones lightly. “I will return soon.”
Her lips parted, but he stepped into the shadow space and roiled with the darkness to enter the council room where he sensed Gidon, Drac, and Talon—the men Lachlan respected and considered his closest friends. He stepped from the shadows, and his king lifted his attention from the scrolls he’d been analyzing.
“You have joined us at last, Lachlan,” Gidon said striding toward him. “It was not like you to drop visitors at our feet and disappear before we got the chance to—”
His king faltered, violence settling on his face like a second skin, the tattoos of his three-headed demon beast—the Cerberus—shifting on his forearms and under his raven black undershirt.
Without his mate’s presence, without touching her mind, darkness blossomed through Lachlan as the anchor to his sanity melted away.
“You have bonded,” Talon said, rising from the chair he’d been seated in with untamed grace. He moved closer, his piercing green eyes watchful and wary. “How did this happen, my friend? I know of your vows made in fire and ice that you would not allow your beast in your life.”
Drac lowered his goblet carefully, and stood, canting his head to the side. “What happened?” He asked, his tone devoid of all emotions.
Lachlan could sense the stirring monster in his friend, but Lachlan did not shift his gaze away from his King. The immense pleasure of Lachlan’s darkness sang through his veins, and he relished in it, the bloodletter in Lachlan surging to life on a violent wave.
Gidon stepped forward, the tattoo on his skin rippling to life, menace covering him like an entity.. They stood only a foot apart, and darkness slid against darkness. Lachlan slammed his closed fist across his chest in salute. But it was the demon beast within his king whom he saluted, for its well of power was unfathomable and crackling in the air with a blatant challenge.
“What are you?” Gidon asked, the question pulling Drac and Talon to his side, a wall of protective power.
Lachlan looked down at his body with a brief, humorless smile. Their flat, lethal gazes slid over him, noting the changes in his body, the claws of his hands, the tattoo of his monster, and the changes to his eyes.
“You have no shield,” Talon said, eyes flaring in shock. Tiny embers smoldered in the depths of Talon’s eyes as his beast stirred.
“I am what I am,” Lachlan said, unable to prevent the dark rumble of menace in his voice.
His friends watched him, their expressions blanked, but he could feel the coiled readiness and the stirrings of their demons. He inhaled deeply, feeling a queer sense of belonging he’d never felt before.
“You are not a Senji,” Gidon said, his silver eyes piercing and calculating.
“I am not lost to the monster.” He was the monster.
“And your loyalty?” Drac demanded, his eyes cold and flat.