appeared.
Fierce and terrible looking, it came complete with claws, scales and a wicked
snarl wrapped around dagger-sharp teeth.
“Oh my God. How did you do that? Is this another one of your
tricks?”
She rubbed at it until her skin was bright pink. Wyc lifted
her hand and threaded his fingers between hers.
“There’s a lot we need to discuss.” He nodded to the mark on
her thigh. “That’s a good as place as any. I put it there on your first
birthday.”
“What? What kind of a psycho—”
He squeezed her fingers. “We’re never going to get through
this if you interrupt me.” He loosened her fingers and brought them to his lips
to brush a kiss across their tips when he saw fear settle on her face.
“I have not, nor will I ever, hurt you. And everything
that’s been done was with the purpose of keeping you safe. Trust me on this.
Besides, if I had meant to hurt you, it would have happened long before now.”
“Gee whiz. I wonder why I don’t find that exactly
reassuring?”
He held back a grin. At least part of her fear was being
replaced by peevish irritation.
“First, you were born in a place that matches females of
certain ancestry with the males from another, specific ancestry at the female’s
first birthday. You were matched with me.”
“But I’m not there—”
“Do you ever want to get fucked again?” he asked with some
rising irritation of his own.
“What? Of course I do. Hell yes.”
“Then it matters. Now be quiet and let me explain.”
Bethany narrowed her eyes at him and tried to tug her hand
free, but he held tight.
“We were matched in a ritual held on your first birthday.
Bound together in front of our families, the prophets and the acting
sovereigns—”
“Acting sovereigns? What happened to the real ones?”
“The ones allowed to ascend to the thrones have yet to be
born. Twelve centuries ago—”
Bethany shook her head. “How long? And unborn kings? You’re
not making sense.”
“It will make sense. Eventually.”
“Okay. Back to the guardian thing and sex.”
He smiled. “Priorities. Part of the Ilyrian—”
“Ilyrian?”
“Jesus, woman. Would you let me finish a sentence?”
“Are you always this grumpy after sex?”
Wyc let out a breath that came out as a low growl. Why was
he even trying? “Maybe I should give you something to put in your mouth to keep
you quiet.” He brought her hand to his erection and wrapped her fingers around
it. Holding her hand firmly in place as he guided it in stroking him from base
to tip, he said, “I’d love to see that smart mouth stretched around my cock.
See how much of me you can take.”
Her eyes widened and she yanked her hand away. Pushing
herself up to a sitting position, she scooted backwards toward the headboard,
but didn’t get very far before the piles of pillows stopped her progress. When
she started to pull her legs up close to her body, he wrapped his hand around
her right ankle and gave it a warning squeeze.
“I’m listening. No more interruptions. I promise.”
He didn’t believe her. But at least he had her attention.
For the moment. He loosened his grip and traced small circles just above her
ankle with his thumb.
“Part of the Ilyrian Matching Ritual is the Guardian
placement upon the female’s inner thigh and the male’s chest. Its purpose, if
the two are separated, is to guard the man’s heart for the woman and the
woman’s virtue for the man.”
Bethany made a very unladylike snort. “Oh, please. What
group of Neanderthals got together and came up with that rule? So this Guardian
is some kind of curse that keeps any man, except the one she’s matched with,
from entering the woman’s forbidden territory?”
“That’s a crude definition, but basically true.”
Suddenly, she sat up ramrod straight. “Wait a minute. What
about your virtue?”
Wyc shrugged. “A man’s virtue is not considered something to
be protected among our people.”
“So while I’ve been
Fierce and terrible looking, it came complete with claws, scales and a wicked
snarl wrapped around dagger-sharp teeth.
“Oh my God. How did you do that? Is this another one of your
tricks?”
She rubbed at it until her skin was bright pink. Wyc lifted
her hand and threaded his fingers between hers.
“There’s a lot we need to discuss.” He nodded to the mark on
her thigh. “That’s a good as place as any. I put it there on your first
birthday.”
“What? What kind of a psycho—”
He squeezed her fingers. “We’re never going to get through
this if you interrupt me.” He loosened her fingers and brought them to his lips
to brush a kiss across their tips when he saw fear settle on her face.
“I have not, nor will I ever, hurt you. And everything
that’s been done was with the purpose of keeping you safe. Trust me on this.
Besides, if I had meant to hurt you, it would have happened long before now.”
“Gee whiz. I wonder why I don’t find that exactly
reassuring?”
He held back a grin. At least part of her fear was being
replaced by peevish irritation.
“First, you were born in a place that matches females of
certain ancestry with the males from another, specific ancestry at the female’s
first birthday. You were matched with me.”
“But I’m not there—”
“Do you ever want to get fucked again?” he asked with some
rising irritation of his own.
“What? Of course I do. Hell yes.”
“Then it matters. Now be quiet and let me explain.”
Bethany narrowed her eyes at him and tried to tug her hand
free, but he held tight.
“We were matched in a ritual held on your first birthday.
Bound together in front of our families, the prophets and the acting
sovereigns—”
“Acting sovereigns? What happened to the real ones?”
“The ones allowed to ascend to the thrones have yet to be
born. Twelve centuries ago—”
Bethany shook her head. “How long? And unborn kings? You’re
not making sense.”
“It will make sense. Eventually.”
“Okay. Back to the guardian thing and sex.”
He smiled. “Priorities. Part of the Ilyrian—”
“Ilyrian?”
“Jesus, woman. Would you let me finish a sentence?”
“Are you always this grumpy after sex?”
Wyc let out a breath that came out as a low growl. Why was
he even trying? “Maybe I should give you something to put in your mouth to keep
you quiet.” He brought her hand to his erection and wrapped her fingers around
it. Holding her hand firmly in place as he guided it in stroking him from base
to tip, he said, “I’d love to see that smart mouth stretched around my cock.
See how much of me you can take.”
Her eyes widened and she yanked her hand away. Pushing
herself up to a sitting position, she scooted backwards toward the headboard,
but didn’t get very far before the piles of pillows stopped her progress. When
she started to pull her legs up close to her body, he wrapped his hand around
her right ankle and gave it a warning squeeze.
“I’m listening. No more interruptions. I promise.”
He didn’t believe her. But at least he had her attention.
For the moment. He loosened his grip and traced small circles just above her
ankle with his thumb.
“Part of the Ilyrian Matching Ritual is the Guardian
placement upon the female’s inner thigh and the male’s chest. Its purpose, if
the two are separated, is to guard the man’s heart for the woman and the
woman’s virtue for the man.”
Bethany made a very unladylike snort. “Oh, please. What
group of Neanderthals got together and came up with that rule? So this Guardian
is some kind of curse that keeps any man, except the one she’s matched with,
from entering the woman’s forbidden territory?”
“That’s a crude definition, but basically true.”
Suddenly, she sat up ramrod straight. “Wait a minute. What
about your virtue?”
Wyc shrugged. “A man’s virtue is not considered something to
be protected among our people.”
“So while I’ve been
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