The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3)(130)

And every night, that vixen ran from him.

Or after him.

His grin broadened.

Energy rolled over his fingertips as he readied his power, alert for any sign of his wife. She would be caught up in the thrill of the chase, enough that he might be able to snare her senses with a glamour. She would expect it of course, but then, what was life without challenge?

There. A flash of red hair, pale skin. He raised the image he’d prepared in his mind then hurled it into the air, letting the energy flow down his arms, snap outward like the crack of a long whip.

A barguest exploded from the bushes in front of her, bolted across her path. It didn’t look at her, didn’t attack her, that would be too obvious. Instead, the great yowling black dog—cousin to the hellhound—was chasing a bloodied leprechaun. The cobbler shouted indignantly as it skirted the ground, winking in and out of sight as it tried to escape the glistening teeth of the beast behind him.

Marian slowed, hesitation stealing her speed, her brain trying to make a snap decision. Was it a glamour or was it real? If it was real, should she intercede? Should she help? Good and evil were such grey areas in the world of the fey, who was to say the barguest wasn’t justified in its pursuit of the leprechaun?

He could see the moment she realized it was a glamour, see the way her nose twitched. Marian belonged to the Wild Hunt, and now that she had claimed that heritage, and was no longer fighting to be human, she had finally attained full access to her senses. If she tried hard enough to break it, even his glamour couldn’t fool her.

But she had to try hard enough. And for that, she had to concentrate. Which was hard to do when running full speed.

This time when he got his arms around her, he held her with her back against his chest. Marian laughed again, squirmed to break his hold. Desire spiked inside him, made his breath louder in his ears, his heartbeat a chest-bruising force. He nuzzled her hair out of his way as best he could, dug until the slope of her neck was bared to the moonlight. He ducked his head down—and bit her.

The give of her tender flesh between his teeth was a welcome pressure, a primal grip that held her prisoner in his arms more surely than his arms ever could. She gasped, her head falling back, her body going limp in his arms. Her arousal burnt fever-hot beneath her skin, coaxing his own carnal appetite to a stomach-clenching urgency.

He closed his teeth a little more, tasting the salt of her sweat, drawing another fiery moan from her lips. She fell to all fours in front of him and he followed her down, not releasing her neck. Lush green grass and damp soil provided a cushion for his knees as he knelt over her. His fingers trailed down her body, lightly cupping her curves as he slid his hands to the fastening of her trousers, made short work of the laces keeping him from making her his all over again.#p#分页标题#e#

She didn’t fight him now, every shift of her hips an attempt to make it easier for him to slide the material down her smooth thighs, a sharp inhale jerked from her lungs when all of her bare skin was finally free of the cursed trappings.

Tonight, he didn’t let go yet. He kept her flesh in his teeth, kept up the delicious pressure that melted her resistance so completely. He slipped one hand between her legs, dipping his fingers inside her. Wet heat engulfed them, and he groaned against her skin, almost losing his grip. All thought of tormenting her, teasing her, flew from his mind, chased away by the ferocious need to claim her. His hips rocked of their own accord, his body fighting to replace his fingers with his cock, to get as deep inside of her as he could, lose himself in the madness that only came with possession. He of her, and her of him.

Marian was pressing back against him now, the sounds pouring from her throat threatening his tenuous grasp on his control. Her hips were in his hands, his fingers pressing in with bruising force. He slid the hot length of himself between her thighs, relishing the hiss of her inhale when he sheathed himself in all that wonderful, mind-melting heat. Only when he was inside her, when she was thrusting back against him with those jerky, subconscious thrusts that told him she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, did he release her skin.

A very small part of his mind noted the blood on her skin, the lines where his teeth had broken through. As soon as he let go, the blood welling up in ruby droplets turned black, liquid thinning into a mist. Shadow welled up in the wounds, shifting around like fog disturbed by a bird. It was gone in the blink of an eye, as though it had never been there, and her flesh was smooth and unbroken.

It was very hard to really hurt a hellhound.

“My love,” he rasped, sliding his body out of hers with such slowness that it took the breath from his lungs. “Have I told you…how very grateful I am…that you are on my side?”