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He might want me, he might not.
Wonder no more, wife. He wants you.
Once her pet fell asleep, she left to check on her people. Puck tracked and studied her, unwilling to spend even a moment away from her.
Left her for weeks without a problem, now I can't leave her for a few minutes?
Twice she stiffened, as if she knew someone watched her, but she never called him out.
She had changed so much more than he'd realized. She walked with confidence now, her head held high. Any room she entered, she owned. Her people adored her, yes, but she adored her people right back.
She had a big heart. Loved passionately and lived life by her own rules.
The kitten had become a tigress.
When one of her soldiers stopped her to ask for relationship advice, she said, "I don't have a lot of experience in this arena, or any, but I'm pretty sure you're supposed to always leave him wanting more. Unless he says something cruel. Or lies. Or hits. Then you leave him dead."
Though she clearly had a ton of work to do around the village, she always stopped to chat with anyone who approached her. She had hugs and praise for the children, and ensured livestock and chimeras were well taken care of.
Puck found himself oddly fascinated--and still hard. Too many times to count, he looked at her mouth and wondered how deep she could take his length.
He needed...he didn't know what he needed. His wife out of the picture? His wife underneath him? Over him? In front of him on her hands and knees? Yes, yes. All of that. He needed his wife to moan his name, and claw his back, and beg him for--
What are you doing? Resist her allure!
He hated all this wanting. Hated dreading the end of his marriage when he should be eager for it.
She was his, but not.
Without the bond to Puck, she would crave William once again. Unless Puck addicted her to his touch. Could he?
Yes. Absolutely. He could do anything, was known as the Undefeated for a reason. But he wouldn't addict her. He would be better served keeping his distance. There was no good reason to let his feelings intensify and complicate an already complicated situation. He could barely handle what he felt now.
An old adage he needed to remember: Why willingly walk into a sword when you could move around it?
*
Gillian popped a grape into her mouth and waited for Puck to grace the feast with his exalted presence. She sat before a crackling fire pit, William at her side. Shawazons formed a circle around them, sharing platters of food, jugs of ale and goblets of water. Laughter echoed through the night, blending with a thousand different conversations and the soft thrum of music as clanswomen played handmade drums, flutes and harps. In the center of the circle, a group of dancers rocked their hips while twirling scarves with wild abandon.
Cameron danced among them, teasing one woman in particular.
True to his nature, he often became obsessed with a single woman for weeks at a time, sometimes months, and did everything in his power to seduce and lure. The moment he won her heart, however, the chase ended, as did his obsession. He would move on to someone else.
This particular woman had held out longer than most, but she would cave. They always caved.
Gillian had bathed, changed into her best leathers and plaited her hair. Not that anyone could see her hair. She wore a bold, colorful headscarf. One of her favorites, though the material was too gossamer to protect against sand and wind. She simply liked the look of it. Crystal beads hung from the upper hem, giving her bejeweled bangs.
William had dropped to his knees the moment he'd spotted her, as if struck by a bolt of lightning. Even as she'd laughed, delighted by his antics, she'd shaken with anticipation to discover Puck's reaction.
Where was he?
Even Peanut had joined the feast. As predicted, he'd detested William on sight and had already peed on his boots, nipped his ass and spit in his face. To William's credit, he hadn't retaliated. Cursed up a storm, yes, but nothing more. Good thing. If he'd lashed out physically, he would have gotten the stinky boot out of camp, Puck's mission be damned.
Mess with what's mine, pay the price.
Dang it, why hadn't Puck shown up?
"You're doing it again," William grumbled.
"Doing what?" she asked, confused.
"Watching for Puck, missing all my best moves." Not just grumbled this time, but snarled. "You don't want him, poppet. Trust me. Please. The bond is screwing with your mind, nothing more."
"Those were your best moves? Wow. I feel sorry for you." And how had he known she desired Puck? How had he known to play on her fears about the bond? "Sorry, Liam, but you've lost your golden touch."
Eyes hooded, he leaned toward her, seduction incarnate. "You've never known my touch." His voice deepened, and developed a husky rasp. "I have a feeling you'll like it very much..."
Except, she remained unresponsive to him. "I remember a time you didn't want me. Not too long ago, in fact. Only a handful of weeks have passed for you. What's changed?"
"You," he said simply.
"I have changed, yes. And you were right, I do want Puck," she admitted.
Rigid as steel, he opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and ground his teeth. "He will never give you what you need."
"And what do I need, hmm?"
"Devotion."
"Actually, I need orgasms." A bald statement, and perfectly true. Except, a tide of longing rose inside her. Devotion sounded amazing. To trust her lover. To know he would never willingly hurt or betray her.
A commotion to the right. Out of habit, Gillian reached for a dagger, only to still. Puck had arrived at long last.
The rest of the world vanished as her gaze collided with his. In an instant, her blood turned molten, and her heart decided to do a hard-rock drum solo.
So badly she yearned to reach out and stroke him.
In the firelight, his horns appeared longer, thicker. He hadn't shaved, so a shadow of dark stubble covered his jaw. He had bathed, though. His damp hair dripped at the ends, sending water droplets careening down the ridges of his bare chest. Those droplets disappeared under the waist of his sheepskin breeches.
He was a warrior, a man and an animal-like predator all at once, which only worsened her fascination with him.
What did he think of her?
He stared at her mouth as he rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, as if he was imagining kissing her. Yes, please. Then his gaze traced over her body, lingering everywhere she ached, as if he knew how desperately she wanted his hands and lips to follow.
Did he know? Expression devoid of emotion, he closed the distance. His hands--she sucked in a breath. His hands were balled into fists. Well, well. He wasn't as stoic as he wanted her to believe.
I affect him.
Silent, he sat at her side. His bicep bulged as he pluc
ked two fire-roasted squash medallions from a nearby platter, tossed one to Peanut and popped the other into his mouth. Her husband chewed, swallowed and concentrated on the dancers.
She liked the way his jaw moved, every motion carnal.
Shocker: Peanut sniffed him, then gently head-butted his hand, demanding to be petted. Her chimera had never accepted anyone so quickly.
"Your demon spawn scents you on Puck," William mumbled. "There's no more to it than that."
She tried, she tried so hard, but she couldn't remove her focus from Puck. "You do realize you ate a piece of squash, right?" Mimicking a caveman, she added, "Meat good. Vegetables bad. Remember?"
"I eat for strength, always, even if I'm offered trash food." His attention remained on the dancers, even as his deep, husky voice stole over Gillian's skin like a caress. Did he find one of her clanswomen attractive? "Besides, everything I eat is tasteless to me."
Though she hadn't inherited that particular disadvantage, compassion trumped her urge to dismiss the dancers. "Courtesy of Indifference?"
He offered a single, curt nod.
"Are your lovers tasteless, as well?" William leaned over, grabbed the last medallion of squash and popped it into his mouth. His eyes closed and he moaned, as if he'd gotten caught up in the throes of a climax. When he finished, he licked his lips and smirked. "I bet you try your very best to give a woman a mediocre experience. Well, I wouldn't worry any longer. Go ahead and consider it missionary accomplished."
"I haven't taken a lover outside of my marriage. Perhaps I need more practice to reach your expert level of seduction," Puck said. "Tell me, Panty Melter. How many thousands of women does it take...after you've met the one you believe is your fated mate?"
Oh, baby, the claws were out tonight. Where was popcorn when she needed it?
And okay, excitement was probably the exact wrong reaction over another potential man-brawl. But come on! Puck just admitted he hadn't slept with anyone while they were parted.
Strung as tight as a bow, William said, "I have never wanted to kill a man more than I want to kill you, Pucky."
"The feeling is mutual, Randy."
Wanting--needing--to know if sexual tension tormented Puck as fervently as it tormented her, if something she'd said or done had reached him on a primitive level, Gillian tracked her fingers along the rise of his knuckles. So soft, so warm. So perfect!
He whipped around to face her, his eyes narrowed and glittering, his breaths coming in great heaves--the bulge behind his fly was massive. "Touch me again, and I'll press you into the sand and slam inside you."
