Page 30 of Dark Rover’s Luck (The Children Of The Gods #95)

30

DIN

D in took Fenella's hand, trying to keep his touch reverent and light despite the desire coursing through him. He'd imagined this moment for so long, yet now that it was here, he felt almost overwhelmed by its significance. His heart raced as he looked into her eyes, seeing trust there that he'd done nothing yet to earn.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked again.

The words cost him, but he meant them. After everything she'd been through, the last thing he wanted was to rush her into something she wasn't ready for. Her needs came before his desires.

"I want you, Din."

The simple declaration made his heart soar. He leaned forward, carefully capturing her lips, gently at first, but when she pressed closer, parting her lips in invitation, he deepened the kiss and pulled her tighter against his body.

When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing in her scent—a heady mixture of something that was uniquely Fenella.

"You're incredible," he murmured.

"You're not so bad yourself," she said with a smile that transformed her face, her fingers threading through his hair.

Din let his hand travel from her face to her shoulder, then down her arm in a feather-light caress, cataloging each response, each subtle reaction. He felt her tremble slightly beneath his touch and paused, uncertain.

"You're trembling," he observed quietly, searching her face.

"It's been a long time," Fenella admitted, vulnerability flashing briefly in her eyes. "Since I've been with someone I actually wanted to be with."

The admission struck Din like a sledgehammer. He knew what had happened to her, at least in general terms. The thought of what she'd endured enraged him, but it also made his protective instincts flare.

It took such incredible courage for her to be here with him now, choosing to trust him even though she barely knew him.

He offered his hand. "Shall we move somewhere more comfortable? The terrace has a lovely view, but perhaps not for what we have in mind."

Fenella laughed, a sound that delighted him each time he heard it. She accepted his hand, and he led her toward the bedroom, hyper-aware of her presence beside him, the warmth of her palm against his.

"It's a nice bed." She ran her hand over the carved post. "Mine is much simpler, Shaker style."

Din couldn't take his eyes off her, the way the overhead light outlined her profile, highlighted the curve of her neck, and the slope of her shoulder. "Yes," he agreed. "Very nice. Beautiful, in fact."

She turned to look at him, realizing that he hadn't been admiring the bed, and a slight blush crept up her cheeks.

Din found the sight unexpectedly charming.

This woman, who had faced untold hardships over decades and yet carried herself with such strength, could still blush at a simple compliment.

"Flatterer," she accused, though her eyes sparkled.

"Truth-teller," he countered, drawing her closer, his hands settling at her waist.

She lifted her hands and placed her palms on his chest, her touch warm through the fabric of his shirt. He was acutely aware of every point of contact between them, every subtle shift of her body, the rhythm of her breathing.

When he kissed her again, he took his time, exploring the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her mouth, memorizing each response, each small sound of pleasure.

He felt her smiling against his lips. "What's so amusing?" He brushed kisses along the corner of her mouth.

"Just thinking that immortality has its perks," she said. "No need to rush."

"None whatsoever," he agreed, trailing kisses along her jaw to the sensitive spot just below her ear, delighting in the way her breath caught when he found a particularly responsive area. "Though I've been told patience is a virtue, and I'm feeling decidedly virtuous at the moment."

Her laugh turned into a soft gasp as he explored the sensitive skin of her neck. "Not too virtuous, I hope."

Din chuckled, the sound rumbling up from his chest. "Just virtuous enough."

His hands moved to the buttons of her blouse, but he paused, waiting for her permission. When she nodded, he began to undo them one by one, taking his time, treating each new revelation as the gift it was. With each inch of skin exposed, he paid homage with his lips, his fingertips, memorizing texture and taste.

"You're treating me like I'm made of glass," she murmured, though her tone held no complaint.

"Not glass," Din corrected, helping her out of the blouse, his breath catching at the sight of her. "Something far more valuable. Irreplaceable."

He saw something flicker in her eyes—surprise, vulnerability, perhaps even wonder—and he paused, concerned he'd somehow overstepped. "Too much flattery?"

Fenella chuckled. "No, I like it."

Din smiled, understanding what she couldn't quite articulate. He'd observed that tendency in her—the difficulty in expressing certain emotions directly, the deflection with humor or sarcasm. It made these moments of openness all the more precious.

With gentle hands, he guided her to sit on the edge of the bed, then knelt before her.

"What now?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

Fenella had been with an immortal male before, but Max had erased her memories of his bite, and Din didn't know whether she knew what to expect.

Had her friends told her?

Had she spoken with Kyra about the particulars of immortal sex?

How could he bring it up without ruining the moment?

Perhaps it could wait for later, or maybe he didn't have to say anything at all. She must know that he had fangs and what they were for, right?

Instead, he lifted one of her feet. "First, I'm going to help you get comfortable." He removed her shoe, setting it aside carefully, then did the same with the other. His fingers found the arch of her foot, applying gentle pressure, massaging away tension.

"Oh," Fenella breathed, her head falling back. "That feels wonderful."

He smiled. "They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but they should add that the way to a woman's heart is through the arches of her feet."

She chuckled. "Wisdom for the ages, professor."

This was what he wanted—to care for her in all the ways she'd been denied for so long. She deserved to be cherished.

"Din," she said softly.

He looked up, meeting her gaze. "Yes?"

"Come here." She tugged on his shoulder.

He shifted up, settling beside her on the bed, and she turned to face him. Reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with delicate fingers that left fire in their wake, she planted a soft kiss on his lips. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being perfect." She leaned forward to kiss him again.

No one had ever called him perfect, and he knew that he was far from that, but for now, he was willing to accept the compliment without arguing. Heat was building in their embrace, an intensity that had Din fighting for control.

Fenella's hands found the buttons of his shirt, working them open with delicate fingers.

"Let me help," he murmured, assisting her until the shirt hung open. Her curious hands explored his chest, his abdomen, each touch sending sparks through his nervous system, but he held still, letting her explore for as long she needed.

"You're in remarkable shape for an academic," Fenella teased.

"Field work can be quite physical." His breath caught as her fingers traced a path down his stomach. "I also enjoy rowing at Strathclyde Park."

"That explains it," Fenella said with an appreciation that made his blood run hotter.

Din let his own hands wander, skimming over her shoulders, down her back, learning the curves of her body through the thin fabric of her camisole. When his fingers brushed the strip of skin between her top and her jeans, he felt her shiver and smiled.

"Cold?"

"Quite the opposite," she admitted.

With infinite care, Din guided her to lie back on the bed, stretching out beside her. They continued their exploration, trading soft kisses and tender touches as clothing was gradually set aside. He was hyperaware of her reactions, alert for any sign of discomfort or hesitation, but she remained relaxed in his arms, her responses growing more enthusiastic with each passing moment.

When he finally removed the last of what had been covering her, he was overcome with how beautiful she was. Her body was a perfect blend of strength and softness, but it wasn't just her physical perfection that affected him—it was the trust she was placing in him and the vulnerability she was allowing him to witness.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his gaze traveling over her with reverence, his fingers tracing the contours of her breasts.

"So are you." Her gaze traveled down his nude body, and as her eyes settled on his erection, they started glowing, and he wondered if they had ever glowed with desire for anyone else.

When the scent of her arousal hit him full force, he felt dizzy.

"I have to taste you," he groaned, leaning down to take one small nipple into his mouth and suck on it gently.

She arched her back. "Yes, please," she hissed. "Don't stop."

Fates, he felt like he'd passed through the veil and gone to heaven.

Moving with his immortal speed, he was between her legs in a split second, his shoulders spreading her thighs wide. "You're mine, Fenella," he growled as he licked between her wet folds, finding her entrance and spearing his tongue into her.

He didn't know what had possessed him to say that.

That wasn't what Fenella needed to hear from him.

She was a free spirit who didn't belong to anyone, and a stupid remark like that could ruin all the great progress he'd achieved so far.

Thankfully, she seemed too lost to pleasure and either hadn't heard him or decided to ignore it.

"Din—" she moaned his name as her body convulsed in a violent climax.

He sucked and licked, helping her ride the wave for as long as it lasted, and when she finally stopped shuddering, he kissed her folds one last time and leaned away to look at the bounty sprawled on the bed before him.

"Gorgeous," he whispered as he rose over her.

As his shaft nudged her entrance, he was adamant about going slow and making love to her tenderly and slowly, but when she lifted her hips to draw more of him inside her, his control snapped, and he surged into her, joining them.

Fenella gasped, but it didn't sound like distress. It was the sound of coming home.

The world around them receded into nothingness, and as he began moving, going faster and stronger than he'd ever dared with the humans he'd been with, she was right up there with him, taking everything he had to give and demanding more.

His immortal beloved.

With her hips lifting to meet him stroke for stroke, her nails scoring his back, and the heels of her feet digging into his buttocks, she was just as wild as he was, if not more.

As the pleasure built toward its inevitable crescendo, Din felt something profound happening between them—something beyond physical connection, something that resonated in the core of his being. The bond he'd always sensed was there, manifest now in their joining, stronger and more significant than he'd dared to hope.

When she turned her head and exposed her neck to him, he was relieved that she knew what was about to happen and welcomed it.

He licked the spot to anesthetize it and then sank his fangs into her flesh.

Fenella groaned, and as her release barreled through her once more, Din's own rushed through him in a powerful wave.

After licking the twin incision points closed, Din buried his face in the crook of her neck where he could keep breathing her scent in.

Five centuries of life and half a century of dreaming about Fenella hadn't prepared him for the intensity of the experience with this exquisite female. She was his one and only.

He was certain of it.

This hadn't been just sex or even lovemaking. This had been a joining, not only of bodies, but of souls.

Lifting his head, he gazed at her blissful expression, and satisfaction washed over him for being the one who had put it there. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, careful not to wake her.

"Sleep well, mo chridhe ," he whispered.