His amusement grew. “Why do you think you are pregnant?”
My eyebrows rose even as I wondered what the hell that had to do with anything. “I got pregnant because we had unprotected sex.”
“Yes. And as I told you once before, a reaper can only ever have a child with his Caomh.”
Caomh. The reaper term for life-mate. I could only stare as the word echoed around my brain, unimaginable and impossible.
“But nevertheless fact,” he said softly. “You carry the truth of what has lain unspoken between us since the very beginning.”
I swallowed heavily, not daring to believe that fate had, against all the odds and two very different worlds, made this man mine.
“Believe,” he said. “You are my body, my soul, the energy by which I live, and the song in my heart. It was not for our son, or the keys, or the fate of our two worlds that I pulled you back to life. I did it because I cannot live without you.”
And with that, he kissed me. It was a fierce thing, his kiss; fierce, and passionate, and joyous. It was everything I’d spent half my life searching for, everything I’d ever wanted, all wrapped up in one glorious action.
But it didn’t end there.
He touched me, caressed me, even as I ran my hands over his beautiful body, teasing him as thoroughly as he teased me, until sweat stung our skins and the smell of desire was thick in the air.
I wanted him; dear god, how I wanted him, but I didn’t immediately give in to the need. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him again, pressing my body hard against his, until it was difficult to tell where his skin ended and mine began. Desire and heat burned through and around us, until even the very air we breathed seemed to be boiling.
He slid his hands down my back, then cupped my butt and lifted me with little effort. A heartbeat later, he was in me. It felt like heaven and, for several seconds, neither of us moved, simply enjoying the sensations and the heat that rose with this basic joining of flesh. Then the heat became too great to ignore and he thrust deeper – harder – his cock sliding in and out of me with growing urgency. Energy flickered across our skin, dancing between us, tearing through us, until the music of his being played through me, and mine through him. It was a dance, a caress, a tease. It was movement, and heat, and desire. It was crazy and electric, a firestorm that ripped through us even as we remained in flesh. It fueled the urgency and heightened the pleasure, and the desire coursing through my body built, until it was all I could do to keep hold of the pleasure that threatened to tear us both apart.>I poked his chest with a stiffened finger. “You, reaper, are such a spoilsport.”
He caught my hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “Trust me, if we survive all this, I intend to make love to you so often and so well that you will beg me to stop.”
I laughed and stepped close enough that my breasts were pressed against his chest. “I’m part werewolf, remember. You could be waiting a long time for me to beg off.”
“I should hope so.” He kissed me, long and slow, before finally adding, “In the meantime, you should rest.”
I sighed again. “I guess if you’re going to insist —”
“And I am.”
“Then you’d better escort me to bed, James.”
He did. And, frustratingly, did nothing more than that.
The first thing I did when I woke was ring Mike at his office. It was eight thirty, so I had no doubt he’d be there by now.
“Good morning, Risa.” The voice was plummy and feminine, and belonged to his secretary, Beatrice. “You’re calling early – hope there’s not a problem.”
“There’s not.” The vid-phone was turned off on her end, so I couldn’t see what color her hair was this month. But the last time I’d been at the office it had been pale purple, and the month before that a vibrant red. Despite her age, she loved hair color variety as much as I loved Coke and cake. “Mike left me a message to give him a call ASAP. Is he around?”
“Just a moment, and I’ll put you through.”
There was a click, a brief moment of silence, then Mike’s aristocratic features came on-screen. I didn’t actually know how old Mike was – he didn’t look old, and yet he didn’t seem young, either. His hair was black but cut short, the dark curls clinging close to his head like a helmet. His eyes – a clear, striking gray – seemed to hold eons of knowledge behind them. Given Mom had once commented that he had a genius-level IQ, I guess that was to be expected.
“Risa,” he said, his voice low and pleasant, “thank you for ringing back so promptly.”
“I thought I’d better. It sounded urgent.”
“Not so much urgent, more a warning.”
I raised my eyebrows. “About what?”
“About the tax department’s crackdown on small businesses. I just wanted to make sure you have all receipts in order, just in case RYT’s is in line to be audited.”
“Aside from the last couple of weeks, yes.” And he knew that, so why ring me? It wasn’t like the possibility of being audited was new, but as far as I knew, businesses like our café were generally only targeted when certain flags were thrown up. “Have they contacted us?”