Lovers' Tussle Page 2

  As the thick trunks of tree began to pass by much faster, he knew he had underestimated her. She was as fast and wily as a damn fox. Adrenaline pumped through him. His heart hammered against his rib cage, sending spurts of hot blood pumping through his body. The nape of his mane prickled. Her scent was so very strong, so utterly captivating. He longed to taste her. The next leap he took over a fallen log was done with more spirit than he had experienced in a long time. The scenery, which would have been pitch dark to any other eye, was as clear as broad daylight to his acute senses, passed by in a hazy blur. Leaves were left flying frantically in the air by the wind he stirred in his wake. “I’m coming to get you, little fox. Save some energy for me.” Laughter rumbled within his chest, mingling with his excitement. He was filled with hunger, consumed by it. He was alive. The hunter in him flared and reveled.

  He hadn’t even met the wench, but she ignited his blood. He recalled the generous view she had afforded him and all the other lusty men in the tavern last night. Yes, she was a feisty one all right, but while not overendowed, her curves hinted at satisfying generosity. He was going to take great pleasure in testing just to what arenas her fiery spirit extended to, intimate pleasure.

  He plunged through yet another dense wall of growth and skated to a dead stop. Before him lay the slightest of tributaries, but it may as well have been an entire ocean filled with sharks and every other predator beneath the surface. He pawed the damp mud at the edges. It would be so easy to simply stroll across. There was nothing standing in his way. At least not anything physical.

  He roared his anger at the silent moon as he scanned the lush greenery on the other side. The tiny face first peeked through the thick bushes, and then she emerged fully. Roth stared at the wolf across the seemingly meaningless patch of water. He had been wrong. Brown did not describe that color at all. Red, blazing and aflame, did her coat more justice. He sniffed the air, catching more dank mud and swill than her essence. His disgruntled roar echoed through the trees, sending birds into a flight of panic.

  He paced the slimy silt, allowing his claws to sink into its clingy smoothness, but never stepped in enough to get his paws wet. His hair stood on ends, alert, aggravated. Just one leap and he’d land right on top of her. Just one was all he required. Yet invisible bands surrounded him, holding him captive against his own desires. He stilled, watching her warily, helpless.

  The voice, as light and airy as a delicate dandelion and yet as strong and durable as a sunflower, cut into his mind. “What’s the matter? Is my mangy scoundrel afraid of the water?”

  Roth answered her dainty voice with a savage howl. It was not the water at all that posed the problem, but the land on the other side, the stretch on which she now stood. That was territory he dared not trespass onto. Christian Hawthorne, Duke of Sterling, was an influential, ruthless man not to be trifled with. As an Alpha wolf, the leader of the oldest and greatest pack was not one to cross paths with at all.

  Roth threw all his pent-up frustration in his roar. How could his mate descend from this pack? With any other, he would have compromised, negotiated, even bloody threatened and dominated, but Sterling did not recognize those words, nor did he cower. With a final longing glance at the prey that was now just beyond his reach, and would probably remain so for God only knew how long, he turned and dashed through the woods. So much for a life mate. She could never be claimed. At least he hadn’t killed his brother for nothing.

  * * * *

  Tienna awoke late the next morning. She rubbed her eyes grumpily, groaning beneath her breath about the grimy, sandy texture due to sleep having been yet again a stranger to her lonely night. But then if she was to be truly honest, she had not been all that alone, at least not within her dreams. They had come to her again. But unlike before, the white and gray wolves had claimed her together. Her body had been melded between their tightly packed, manly muscles and every inch of her body had reveled and writhed in ecstasy.

  She threw a half-closed glance around her. Yes, she had been thrusting quite enthusiastically last night. The sheets were twisted, and the cover was lying on the floor. The damp patch between her thighs made her wince. If only her body had actually felt that relief. Ghostly visits did not replace the lusty heat of flesh, blood, and cocks of men. Her body had not been milked by sheer pleasure but had been cheated by unsatisfying visions.

  Her muscles clenched as she stretched and turned to face her personal maid. “Good morning, Gracie. Could you have a hip bath delivered? And I think I’ll wear my gray day dress.” Did the color hold any significance? Gray did suddenly seem a whole lot more appealing, but then again, so did white. “Make it the gray- and white-sprigged muslin instead.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Gracie bobbed a curtsy.

  Tienna frowned. “Why are you being so formal, Gracie?” Up until now her maid had held no compunction with stating her mind, even to the extent of exacting Tienna’s fury.

  “His Lordship wishes to see you.” Gracie frowned at the dirt-smudged sheet. “He seems to have found out about your unwarranted excursion last night.”

  “Indeed.” Her father’s ire did not worry her. For one thing, he would be glad that she was finally making headway with regards to her plans. But of course headway was not exactly the word she could use. Well, she had made a start, and that was what mattered.

  Her ablutions were made in a hurry nonetheless. The better she settled things with her father, the sooner she could decide on her next course of action. Besides, her father would send footman after footman until she finally sought out his presence. He was not known for his patience.

  She entered his study with a light tap. “Good day to you, Father. I trust you slept well.”

  “And I warrant you haven’t. Now I wish a detailed account of your progress thus far.” Christian Hawthorne was an impressive man with his tall frame and heavy body contours. He took pleasure in displaying his agility every chance he got, and thus Tienna seldom found him seated. He always prowled, even in the comfort of his home.

  She approached him and kissed his whiskered cheek, mostly to buy more time. Finally, she lowered herself into a chair even though it made her feel somewhat diminished in size. Tienna sighed. No matter how she presented herself, she would always feel diminished. Her height, sadly, was not inherited from her father’s side. “I have managed to make contact. Both Aiden James, Marquis of Kendrick, and Mr. Roth Demount are aware that I am their mate and consequently the mate of the other as well.”

  “Well done.” Christian stopped himself just in time from thumping her soundly on the back.

  The gesture, however, reminded her fully of how much he had wished for a son instead of her. “They did not seem pleased about this development.”

  “Indeed. But why has the fight not been done with? Last night was a blessed full moon. The wolves would have been at their most primal fighting power and lusting after a battle.”

  Tienna nodded, reluctant to give away her failed attempt. There was no sense in disappointing the man any further than her birth with the wrong genitals. At least she could continue the façade of being in full faculty of her mental attributes, no matter how fragile. “There was no time. Their meeting was made too late, and the dawn threatened.”

  “A bullet from a Manton would serve well enough, and time need not be an issue. Suppose you propel them to engage in a duel instead?”

  “And pray tell, how would I know I am getting the better in the bargain?” Tienna could not imagine either man falling from something as swift as a well-aimed bullet. It would be such a waste of their raw talent. “No, I will see their skills pitted against each other.”

  “You drag your feet pointlessly.” His annoyance was easily detected. Along with lack of patience, he could never be accused as being a man in possession of the finer arts of subtlety.

  “And you are much too demanding on the child.” The feminine voice interrupted from behind Tienna’s seat and had her turning a smile to the intruder in gratitud
e. “Tienna is well capable of making up her own mind with regards to her future. She is only twenty-one, and there is no rush.”

  “Good day to you, Mother.” With a whisper of thanks, she kissed her mother in greeting before resuming her seat.

  Her father, however, did not like being outmaneuvered. “Time is very much of the essence, my dear.” His voice was tight with barely held restraint. “I will leave nothing to chance.”

  Lady Cynthia, despite her slender and somewhat short stature, was never one to back down, especially to her bumbling husband. “Oh shush, you smother the child when that is a duty reserved for mothers. It even has the word mother in it. Since when has it become sfather?”

  Tienna suppressed her laugh and, failing dismally, tried to disguise the muted sound with a cough. She caught a whiff of bacon and red meat on her mother. Her mouth watered as her belly rumbled. The infernal habit of eating as soon as she rose was yet another facet inherited from her mother. Thankfully, either owing to her higher metabolism or the perhaps the sheer greed of the ravenous beast within her, no telltale signs showed on the surface of her compact body.

  “You will stay out of this, woman. Tienna must do right by her family.”

  Lady Cynthia drew herself to her full height, which didn’t even reach her husband’s chest. “I am included in the decisions pertaining to Tienna by no mere default. May I remind you, dear husband, that you did not pluck her from a tree.”

  “Your opinion bears no consequence.”

  “It mattered greatly when she was being formed.”

  Stony silence followed her mother’s rebuttal. Tienna suspected they had reverted to communicating in a less public manner. She now knew just how intimate that form of connecting was. Roth’s voice had touched her mind with all the heat of the scorching sun. She had felt the warmth spread through her limbs and between immediately, turning her instantly to cinder. I wonder how his voice would sound whispered in my ear, against my skin? However good it might sound, it would certainly not be as intimate as having the whisper sent straight into her mind, into the very depths of her soul. And worse still, the deep tenor had been very compelling. It had taken extraordinary strength not to submit to the sinful drone in her head and wantonly offer herself to him beneath that full moon.

  She shook off the meandering. There was no sense in forming attachments. Either one of those splendid specimens could die soon, by her intervention. “I shall see them fight in their true forms, Father.” She added to appease him even as the word brought a flavor of distaste to her tongue. “Soon.”

  “Brava, my daughter.” Her mother clapped her hands just once bringing an end to the subject as regally as a queen.

  At least for now. “I will not disappoint you, Father.”

  Tienna thought back to the strange interaction between the wolves last night. Even though Roth had tried to hunt her down with his almost violent ardor, she could not dispel the image of the snowy-white coat that had flashed like liquid silver under the loving caress of the moonbeams. Aiden, with his elegance and undeniable beauty, had been ready for a fight. It had been almost as though they had somehow communicated internally, much like the way close family relations or pack members could. But that was a ridiculous supposition. The men were known enemies after all. If anything, they should have welcomed the provocation to tear each other’s throats out. But that had not been the way things had gone at all. How intriguing.

  Chapter 2:

  Fateful Encounters

  Aiden eyed the red-haired beauty from a safe distance. Now, under the brilliant ambiance of thousands of glittering candles and lamps, he could make out more of her features. Glossy locks of fire were swept up and piled high in an elegant style that showed off the long expanse of her creamy neck. Evenly spaced, flashing emeralds beneath delicately arched, dark brows glowered at any unwanted suitors who unintentionally bought her wrath simply by begging for a dance. Plush lips, seldom stretched into a welcoming smile, mouthed words clearly even at this distance. She appeared to be particularly fond of the word No.

  She was a raving beauty on all accounts, even if she was rather petite. And she was recognized as a Pocket Venus by all the males here, judging by their constant cloistering around her despite her haughty ways. Aiden wondered what she would feel like in his arms. Would she break as easily as the fragile crystal her body portrayed, or would she be as durable as her contradicting stony character? Either way, he would find out. Tonight.

  He approached her only once she had found her way closer to the garden entrance of the crowded ballroom. Roth had warned him about her heritage this morning, giving nothing away of just how he had come to be in possession of that particular juicy bit of information. He had readily agreed that the Duke of Sterling was not to be toyed with. Of course, that had not been agreed upon with the devil’s spawn gloriously displaying her tantalizing flesh in a low-cut, figure-hugging, silver ball gown. He wanted answers, just as Roth had. Why had she pitted them against each other? And why was she playing coy when she must know a mate will eventually submit to her male?

  She did not notice him until he was already upon her. The stench of too many pressed bodies would have stifled the acute senses of even the most powerful wolves. He enjoyed the brief flicker of uncertainty that flashed across her face. The becoming red flush spread a fiery path from her cheeks all the way down her decadently exposed throat to the valley between her tightly pressed breasts. “Manners dictate that I obtain someone of both our acquaintances to make the necessary introductions, but I am sure you will pardon me this lapse.” He bowed and gently kissed the heated pulse just above her glove.

  “This is most unseemly, my lord.”

  Aiden did not miss the way her eyes darted around quickly, searching. He rejoiced in the slight tremor of her fingers. She wished to flee, and he was having none of that. Without releasing possession of the fragile-boned fingers, he pulled her toward the open doorway. “Perhaps a breath of air in the courtyard will dispel my rude behavior.” And perhaps my lips will sweeten that denial so ripe on yours.

  She finally managed to tug her hand away, but thankfully only after they’d achieved at least some measure of privacy. “I do not care to be dragged around like a lapdog on a leash, my lord.”

  “Neither do I. That is, after all, what you did the other night before dashing off. Think of this as compensation for your own earlier kindness.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Oh, but you have so much to offer. Begin with telling me how you managed to find me. And pray, do not waste time with titles. Aiden will do just fine.” He leaned negligently against a nearby balustrade. But all he wanted to do was sink his fingers into the mane of hair and tug it free. He longed to pull her body flush against his own and test the texture of her lips and flesh.

  “You are not exactly a hidden relic, my lord. News of your escapades, I assure you, is most well-known.”

  “Noted. Now tell me how you came by the knowledge that you are my mate?” He smiled as she shook her head. “Do not deny it, my dear. You knew exactly who you were baiting that evening you set your trap.” And he knew exactly how to lure her. After all, sinful rendezvous in the dark was his forte. His mouth fairly watered. She was just his flavor, sweet, savory even if she was also sassy and as spiced as a bird’s-eye chili.

  She licked her lips, agitated. The action sent a bolt of fires straight to his flaccid cock, jerking it upright none too gently. “It was simply a feeling.”

  “Ah.” He stepped closer. “And do you always take such daring actions based solely on a feeling?” The skin on her cheek was soft petals beneath his gentle fingertips. “Would you like to know what I do with my feelings?”

  His fingers dug into the hair at her nape as she made to escape his hold. “Why do you run? Do I scare you?” Her bottom lip was not just full in appearance. The plump flesh depressed easily beneath his thumb. Much too easily. She was a ripe morsel all right. Desire, hot and unrestrained, strummed thr
ough him. “Just a taste.”

  He could sense her arousal. Her breath escaped lightly, shallow. The heat of her skin seared his fingers. The sound of her blood throbbing through her veins thundered in his ears until the drone overpowered every other sense in him. As his head lowered slowly to replace his thumb, he asked huskily, “What is your name?”

  “Tienna.” The name floated in his mind, the daintiest flutter of butterfly wings, and yet it consumed him like flowing lava. Her lips were fully sealed by his own slowly exploring ones. She could speak in his head, how divine. But he soon lost all further wish to inspect that particular avenue as her taste graced the tip of his tongue.

  Sweet. Smooth. Silk. He lapped leisurely at her lips until they parted on a sigh. Slowly, patiently, he snaked his arms around her waist and brought her body to fit against his hard one. Her softness melted into him. The heat of her mouth was so inviting. He could not resist any further. Frighten her or not, he could no longer delay. His tongue passed the boundaries of her lips and dipped deep into her moisture. God, she tastes like berries, sunshine, and pure heaven.

  * * * *

  Tienna sank into the welcoming heat. It closed around her, enveloping her like a cloak of warmth and security. He had spun his web so expertly, a suave and cultivated silken band that had trapped her. And as helpless as an insect she had been ensnared by this patient rogue, seduced by his charm and devilish smoothness.

  His hair, so light blond it could pass for white in the moonlight, slipped between her satin-gloved fingers. Her fingers tightened, clinging on for dear life, cursing the obscuring material that impeded her sense of truly testing the texture. His tongue invaded the privacy of her mouth with such temperate actions she could feel each nuance of her heated body melt with fever, and it did so in alarming, slow degrees.