“Open your eyes, sielamet, and see her.”
Her lashes felt as if they weighed a ton. Still wrapped tightly around Tariq’s body, she opened her eyes and saw her niece through a window, as if she were outside the bedroom looking in. Lourdes slept peacefully, the covers pulled over her light little body. Charlotte’s lashes drifted down, and then the lovers were moving again. The cool air didn’t do a thing to cool her hot body. She began to move, helpless not to, grinding down over his cock. Needing him all over again.
He didn’t seem to mind in the least. His hands cupped her bottom and he lifted her, showing her how to ride him as he continued moving. She kept her face buried against him and didn’t bother to try to open her eyes—she just took her pleasure, sliding up and down that thick, velvet-covered shaft that seemed to radiate heat hotter than a furnace.
Then she was on her knees, bent over a bed, and he gripped her from behind, one arm around her waist, the other hand tugging on her nipples, first one then the other, his mouth on the nape of her neck while he pounded into her from behind. His body held her captive, and she loved the feeling of his weight on her, his mouth sucking on her neck. His teeth scraping. His bite. Sharp teeth. Such an erotic pain.
She threw her head back and to the side to encourage him to bite the other side of her neck. He’d had her right side, her throat, the back of her neck, and she wanted every single part of her claimed by him. He obliged, his hips all the while thrusting hard, a relentless machine, over and over, a heady, wild ride she never wanted to end.
Even as he leaned over her, his body strong and hard, pinning her against the mattress, his hair sweeping her bare skin and his teeth biting down, she heard the murmur of his voice stroking caresses in her head. Soft. Gentle. A counterpart to the savage way his body moved into hers.
En évsatzak piwtäak tet. I have searched through centuries for you.
She didn’t know how that could be the truth, but she loved that he said it, and by the look on his face, he meant it. For him, waiting for her had seemed centuries. It was the same for her. She’d looked the world over for something she desperately needed and hadn’t found it until now.
His body was hard and hot, his cock sinking deep, pushing through sensitive tissues to claim her. To brand her. It was so beautiful she felt tears welling up.
Kužõ, ainaak évsatzak otti jelä että íla en wäkeva ködaba. Long, endless centuries to find the light that would shine through the unrelenting darkness.
With fire streaking through her body, and his hand curved around the nape of her neck, holding her in place, she could barely hear the words. They weren’t so much in her ears as in her mind. For a moment she nearly surfaced, anxiety close in spite of the molten honey moving through her veins.
Ašša moo pél. There is no need for fear.
His other hand found her breast, fingers pinching her nipple hard, tugging, rolling, sending lightning sizzling through her body until she was gasping for air, crying out with need, knowing she didn’t have anything to be afraid of. She trusted him with her body, and he was doing things to her she’d never imagined.
Én olenam teval it. I am with you now.
Tears spilled onto her lashes. She’d felt so alone, even when she was with her best friend. Even when she was with her brother. She loved them and knew they loved her, but there was something missing—until now. Until Tariq.
Pesäsz engemal. Stay with me.
Was he feeling the same way? That terrible need, as brutal and as beautiful as the hard strokes as he buried himself deep inside her. Did he need her to fill him the way he filled her? Her heart? Her soul? Her body?
Olensz engemal. Be with me.
She cried out as his hands shifted, moved over her body possessively while he drove himself into her like a man possessed. She felt that coiling deep inside, a burn that became a wildfire out of control. She wanted to be with him. Always. Forever.
Ainaakä kaδasz engem jälleen. Never go away again.
His voice felt like velvet stroking against her skin. Each word murmured in his language, that ancient tongue that was totally mesmerizing, hypnotic, a voice she could listen to for far more than one lifetime.
She closed her eyes and absorbed each separate sensation. His mouth on her neck. His teeth scraping against her skin. The voice whispering in her head. His fingers tugging and rolling her nipples, pinching to send streaks of fire straight to her clit. His arm, a bar at her waist, his hand curling around her waist possessively. The way his body felt against hers. Barbaric. Savage. Claiming. The power in his hips thrusting against her. His cock, weighted. Heavy. Thick. Stretching her. The burn only added to the fiery, scorching hot blaze deep inside her.
Her body coiled tighter and tighter. Stringing her out. Sending her higher. Too high. That delicious frisson of fear skittered down her spine, filling her with trepidation, but she didn’t want him to stop. She needed . . .“Tariq.” She whispered his name, but it came out like a plea. He had to do something to stop the climb before she lost herself.
“Pesäsz engemal. Stay with me,” he repeated in English. “Hiszasz engem vigyáz tet. Trust me to take care of you. Kojasz engem pita temet džinõt t’śuva vni palj3. Let me have you a little longer.”
He wasn’t asking. She knew that. He was telling her, but she wanted him to have everything. Anything. She needed to give him that. His voice when he spoke his own language swept away everything but the need to give to him. To please him. Even if she was a little afraid. She found the fear only added to the wildness of the ride. It built that tension gathering so strongly in her deepest core.
“I have to let go,” she whispered, not wanting to, but she truly didn’t think she could stop it and she wanted to warn him.
“Aš. Ašša bur ször. Andsz éntölam palj3 t’śuva vni teval. Várasz. No. Not yet. Give me more time with you. You will wait.” An order. A command. There was no plea in his voice, only that quiet, low, implacable decree.
Charlotte closed her eyes and curled her fingers into the satin sheets, making a fist, holding on with everything she had as he took complete control of her body. His hands went to her hips, pinning her, holding her still as he drove into her with hard, brutal strokes, rocking her body, stretching her until she felt as if the fire had built beyond all control and would take her over, destroy her completely until there was no Charlotte without Tariq. She was so close. Each drag of his hard cock over her acutely sensitive bundle of nerves had her gasping, crying out, the sensation so extreme she knew it would throw her over the edge any second. But she held on. Tried. For him.
He murmured more in his language. “Sivamet. Sielamet. Minden m8akam. My everything.”
His heart. His soul. His everything. She wanted that to be true, because in that moment—since the first time he had whispered to her in his language and his teeth had bitten down in that sinfully erotic bite—he had been her heart. Her soul. Her everything. There would never be a single moment when she would deny him. Deny this. Deny him—her.
“Please.” She was nearly sobbing now. The pleasure too much. She was climbing too high. But she wouldn’t let go. Wouldn’t fail him. He wanted, and she could do this—for him.
“No, sielamet,” he whispered in her ear. “For us. I do this for us.”
She took a breath. He slammed deep, angling her hips back into him while she sobbed out another ragged breath.
“Now, Charlotte. Give that miracle to me now.”
She didn’t know whether it was his giving her permission, the way his cock dragged over her clit, how the broad head stroked that sweet spot deep inside, or whether she just couldn’t hold on one second longer, but her body came apart. The orgasm roared through her. Took her completely. She heard herself scream. Long. A wail of pure eroticism. The ripples became quakes and her body seemed to fragment. Come apart until she wasn’t certain she could ever be put back together, but she didn’t care. Didn’t want to be. She was flung out into the universe. Soaring in space. Floating. Drifting.
She felt his mouth on her ear. Her neck. The side of her face. Soft kisses. He turned her over. She was aware of that on some level. The mattress firm against her back. His body stretched out beside hers. One leg flung over her thighs, pinning her down as if even then he wanted to hold her to him. One arm possessively around her rib cage, palm cupping her breast. With her every breath he was there, in her lungs.
Still she drifted. Floated. The ripples decreased in strength, but the bliss didn’t diminish in the least. She nuzzled him. His lips immediately found hers.
“Odamasz it. Džinõt t’śuva vnirt. Tsak odamasz. Sleep now. For a short while. Just go to sleep.”
There was no denying him. Not before when his body was in hers and not now when she was exhausted and needed sleep. She let her lashes fall and snuggled closer against him.
Tariq held his lifemate as tightly as possible to him without disturbing her. He wanted to know what she dreamt. He wanted to be inside her body as well as her mind. He wanted to know every single detail about her. He’d been careful to be respectful and not attempt to read what wasn’t offered, not while she was awake. She had some kind of barrier, a shield that had allowed her to resist Fridrick’s compulsion. She’d known Fridrick was trying to force her obedience. He didn’t want her to equate him with the undead.