When Roarke catches a glimpse of Deanna in Dac Valerian’s club, he searches for her in the streets of Manchester just to prove that he hasn’t lost his mind. He is unable to believe Deanna is alive when he’d buried her himself nearly five hundred years before. But when Deanna turns up on the street facing the Cynn Cruors’ headquarters, Roarke needs to know why she’s hidden herself from him all these years.
Knowing her secret can only destroy whatever feelings Roarke has left for her, Deanna remains silent until circumstances force her to reveal everything.
Hearts are broken on both sides, but Roarke and Deanna have to work together if they are to find a way of ending Dac and the Scatha Cruor’s power once and for all. Desire rises and passions are rekindled. Will Roarke and Deanna’s pursuit of Dac lead to another chance at happiness? Or will it forever tear them apart?
As the elevator opened to the ground floor, he pressed the hold button before striding the few steps to the door and opened it, taking care that the sun didn’t touch him. As the weak rays of the sun streamed through, he felt the gradual simmer in his blood. Uncomfortable, but bearable.
The scent of ylang-ylang reached his senses before Deanna appeared. Roarke closed the door and backed her against the wall. He claimed her lips in a searing kiss which burned a trail down to his sex. Deanna opened up to him, her tongue twirling against his. He groaned as their tongues duelled, each wanting dominion over the other. His hand curled around her neck while his thumb rubbed against the sensitive spot behind her ear.
Deanna’s moan sent his lust rampaging through his loins. His cock was harder than it had ever been. He rubbed it against her hip, wanting to bury himself inside her sweet warmth.
“Roarke.” Deanna gasped against his mouth. “Please….”
In a flash, Roarke pulled her inside the elevator. As the doors closed he punched in several numbers.
“That’s a longer code.” Deanna observed.
He turned to her. “It’s the code to switch off the camera feed.”
Deanna walked toward him. She opened her coat. His breath hissed through his teeth. She wore a simple wraparound dress of dark blue which cinched her waist and pushed her luscious breasts up. He pulled her against his body and devoured her lips before trailing open mouth kisses down the elegant length of her throat. When he reached the base, where her pulse beat erratically, he licked it, eliciting a sigh from her before he sucked on the tender flesh.
Deanna held on to him, her head angled so he could suck more. She whimpered and begged him to continue. Through her skin, Roarke drew a little of her blood. His body rejoiced. His cock strained against his jeans.
Deanna was still his mate. The sweet drop invigorated his senses. He felt more strength literally flowing through his sinews. But there it was. He also tasted something metallic and bitter. No one had to tell him it was the Scatha’s taint. Inside his body, Deanna’s essence mixed with his own. The combination of their blood was stronger than Dac’s contamination. He clenched his jaw at the stab of pain in his system, and then it was gone. His body had battled the taint.
He licked at the spot and felt Deanna shudder against him. She faced him, her eyes aglow with desire. She shrugged out of her coat and parted the bodice of her dress, taking her breast out of her lace bra. Without preamble, Roarke latched on to her tit, kneading the breast as he sucked and nipped at the aroused bud. When he lifted his mouth, she moaned, until she realized he was moving to give the jealous twin equal attention. In appreciation, Deanna cupped his erection before quickly unbuttoning his waistband and unzipping him. Roarke backed her to the corner of the elevator and lifted her. Deanna’s dress parted to show her black lace-edged stockings held by a lace garter belt over a lace thong.
“My lady,” he rasped. “This will have to be quick.”
“Yes, Roarke,” she said huskily, nipping at his neck. “Quick, hard, and rough.”
Deanna pulled her thong aside for him. Her sex was glistening and wet. The scent of her arousal enticed him even as it mixed with his own. In one thrust he was inside her. They both groaned in ecstasy.
He was mindless with lust as Deanna’s sheath clung to his cock. He rode her as she bade him. Quick, hard, and fast. The sound of his cock pistoning in and out of her and the sweet slickness of her fluids coating him drove him wild. His cock thickened with each thrust. By the gods, he loved how his shaft felt as it deliciously scraped against the muscles of her sex. Deanna’s pants and moans became the fuel which propelled him on—harder and harder—until her cries became louder and she fell apart in his arms. With every twitch of her sex against him, he followed her, the guttural cry of his orgasm lost against the softness of her neck.
Their laboured breathing and the hum of their afterglow filled the elevator. Reluctantly, Roarke removed his cock from her wet heat. Kneeling down, he kissed her, pleasuring her until she came again.
Half an hour later, they walked into the foyer, meticulously dressed.
About the Author:
Isobelle Cate is a woman who wears different masks. Mother-writer, wife-professional, scholar-novelist. Currently living in Manchester, she has been drawn to the little known, the secret stories, about the people and the nations: the English, the Irish, the Scots, the Welsh, and those who are now part of these nations whatever their origins. Her vision and passion are fuelled by her interest and background in history and paradoxically, shaped by growing up in a clan steeped in lore, loyalty, and legend.
Isobelle is intrigued by forces that simmer beneath the surface of these cultures, the hidden passions, unsaid desires, and yearnings unfulfilled.
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