Page 24 of Needed in the Night (The Fortusian Mates, #2)

ISLA

As Mikas’s fingertips grazed the delicate skin of my inner thigh and the edge of my underwear, his vertical pupils suddenly dilated, turning his eyes all black.

In a blink I was on my back beneath him, the back of my head cradled by his enormous hand. As inhumanly fast as he’d moved, he’d made sure I didn’t hit the floor, and he braced himself with his other hand so he didn’t crush me with his weight.

He ran his nose along my hairline, down the side of my neck, and across my collarbone, growling low, his claws and teeth bared in a way that made me arch up against him.

I felt no fear at all. This, finally , was Mikas.

Not the reserved, grumpy man he’d pretended to be as long as I’d known him, but the real Fortusian male who’d found his true mate and wanted her with all his hearts and soul.

And body too, if the hard heat pressed against my thigh was any indication.

Simply touching me between my legs had done more than ignite something within him; it had uncaged him. And I would be lying if I said it hadn’t uncaged something in me too.

Pallasian bosors were one of the apex predators of the taiga regions of that planet. Their DNA had no doubt helped make Mikas a fearsome soldier. And as a mate, he would be primal. The thought sent a crashing wave of desire through me, and I felt myself dripping for him already.

How he’d restrained himself for so long, I had no idea, unless Nubo had made explicit threats against me if Mikas acted on his desires. The bastard. I hated him so much more now knowing he’d kept us apart.

I ran my fingers through Mikas’s thick hair and held him still so I could look into his pitch-black eyes. His body quaked and the claws of his hand that wasn’t holding my head scraped on the floor.

“Isla,” he grated. “You are my world.”

I drew him down for a kiss, then nipped his chin lightly with my teeth. “Show me.”

In a flash he moved down my body, pushing my dress up to my waist. I brushed his hands aside and sat up to pull it off over my head. As much as I wanted him, I had enough ability to think rationally to make sure I had intact clothing for when we left the shop.

He knelt between my knees as his gaze caressed me, traveling from my face down to my breasts, over my abdomen, between my thighs, and back up.

I found myself caught between self-consciousness while he studied every inch of me as if committing my body to memory and my own desire to look him over in the same way.

When I reached for my arm sheath, he caught my hand and kissed my fingers. “Leave it be,” he rasped.

Did my skills with a blade arouse him? If so, I liked that very much.

I’d met my share of insecure males who found fierce women intimidating.

But if it was true that to be mates we must resonate with each other in every way, then of course he would find my ability to fight appealing.

His erection showed clearly through the fabric of his pants. I licked my lips.

I used to curse fate very frequently. But if fate had brought us together, then it had done very well by me in the end.

“You are glorious.” His eyes gleamed. “A dream.”

“Not a dream.” I eyed his shirt. “How do I remove this?”

He unfastened the collar, separated the front of the shirt along the seam, and slid it off over his shoulders and spines with practiced ease.

I’d seen his bare chest many times—more times than any other person’s chest in my lifetime, in fact. But never like this, as a lover.

And I’d certainly never been able to explore the contours of his hot flesh. I ran my hands over the hard lines of his pectoral and abdominal muscles, brushed my fingertips across his pierced nipples, and down to the taut skin just above his groin.

Because his claws aroused me so much, I scraped my nails down his chest. They didn’t do so much as scratch his skin, but judging by the way he rumbled and the heat and throbbing hardness against my thigh, he enjoyed the sensation very much.

“I want to see all of you,” I rasped. “Touch you. Taste you.”

“You will.” The growly edge in his voice made me shiver hard with need. “But first, I will make you call my name. I have dreamed of hearing it.”

Imagining myself writhing under him—or on top of him, or with his face between my legs—elicited a gush of wetness from my pussy.

Despite his obvious arousal, he took his time. His fingertips traveled over my shoulders and along my collarbone, caressing and exploring. Parts of my body I’d never considered sensual came alive at his touch, sending quivers of need sizzling through me.

He cupped my breasts, which had never seemed small until they rested in his hands.

“Your skin is so delicate,” he said as he stroked his thumbs lightly over their roundness. “I fear I may hurt you if I lose control.”

“I don’t fear you,” I said, and then gasped when the pads of his thumbs ghosted over my nipples. “I trust you, Mikas. You won’t hurt me.” I arched my back. “Please, more.”

He strummed my nipples with his thumbs. Each touch made me quiver and whimper with need. And then he pinched them—carefully at first, and then harder.

“Use your mouth,” I pleaded. “Your tongue.”

His lips closed on my left nipple, sucking as he flicked the sensitive nub with his raspy tongue. I groaned and slipped my fingers into his hair to hold him close.

“Please,” I gasped, my chest heaving. “Mikas...”

He slid his hand down my stomach and between my legs. I almost screamed as his fingertips caressed me over the thin fabric of my underwear.

“You are so wet,” he murmured, laving my nipples with his long tongue.

I mewled when his fingers brushed over my swollen clit. “Yes.”

He raised his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers. “Delicious,” he rasped. “I want more.”

I raised my hips, intending to slide my underwear off. Instead, he unsheathed his claws, slit the fabric down both sides, and ripped them the rest of the way off. No one had ever done something so deliciously decadent with me. My toes curled and I groaned.

“This is a precious gift,” he said, running his nose over my tattered underwear. “This is your desire, your need for me.”

My arousal made my legs and hands tremble. “Mikas…”

“Already you call my name.” He set my underwear aside and grasped my thighs, pushing them up and open for his hungry stare. A gush of wetness traveled down my slit.

“Beautiful,” he rasped. “Delicate and sweet as a flower. And with two perfect holes. I am made for you, Isla.”

Oh, gods. The moment he’d mentioned his bosor DNA, I’d suspected what was hidden beneath his pants. Now I knew. The thought of it made me gush again for him. And with my legs wide open, he could witness the effect his words and gaze had on me firsthand.

“Yes,” Mikas grated. “You are needful. I will sate you.”

He scooped me up, put me on the sofa, and pulled me toward him until I lay on my back and my ass was on the edge of the cushion. Then he pushed my legs open again, lowered his head, and licked me very, very slowly, from my asshole all the way up to my swollen clit.

I screamed.

I writhed in his grip as his mouth delved everywhere along the length of my slit, exploring, sucking, and tonguing me without mercy. Each time I cried out, he focused his attention on that place until he reduced me to nearly incoherent begging.

Finally, he slipped his tongue into my pussy, first swirling its rough tip around the sensitive opening and then spearing me with its length. I rode his tongue and face, crying out his name and pleading for more.

As my release neared, I began to rub my clit, but he brushed my hand away and mimicked my movements. I threw my head back and wailed as his hot fingers circled and rubbed at the swollen, sensitive pearl.

My cries grew louder, and a coil of heat built and built…and then his tongue curled up and rubbed inside me, perfect and rough, and I came with a cry, my back arching off the sofa and legs shaking in his grip. “Mikas. Gods, Mikas.”

He withdrew his tongue slowly, holding my legs wide and licking me inside and out as he did so. “Sweet and perfect,” he murmured as my chest heaved and I trembled.

He licked all the most delicate skin along my quivering slit as if he wanted to drink every drop of my release. Each little flick of his tongue made me cry out.

“I thought I could not love your voice more than when you sang ‘Warm Waters,’” he added, his breath hot between my thighs, “but I find the sound of my name when you come the most beautiful song of all.”

He bit the inside of my thigh. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to hurt and leave a mark, and I liked it.

“Mikas,” I whimpered.

He smiled—an almost wicked, very toothy smile that was all the more arousing because it was so near my dripping pussy.

“That is what I want,” he said, and licked me once more to make me cry out. “My name, and me, as what you plead for.”

“Then you should—” I began.

Behind Mikas, a red circle lit up on the wall. It blinked rapidly three times, then faded. My haze of pleasure vanished as if I’d been dunked in icy water.

Moving so fast that he nearly blurred, Mikas leapt to his feet, pulled me up off the sofa, and put himself between me and the door to the sampling room. His spines bristled, and he planted his feet shoulder-width apart as he braced himself to fight.

My legs shook and my slickness dripped down my thigh. If he hadn’t been holding me, I might not have been able to stay on my feet.

My wrist chronometer said less than an hour had passed. Had Nubo’s people stormed into the shop demanding to know where we were before Ycari had a chance to arrange our escape? Possibly so, if she had activated the warning instead of coming to the room herself.

Brae , I thought. What’s going on ?

I’m not sure , he said, his voice in my head crackling with tension. Slug is still outside the shop, but a pair of human men just went in and are talking to Madame Ycari. They’re two of Nubo’s watchers we’ve seen before. They’re very angry. Are you on your way out of the shop?

We will be in a few minutes. I sighed aloud. We’ll be going out the back way. Together.

Good. I’ll keep watching and let you know if more trouble comes.

The situation called for a clear head, so I tried to slow my breathing and think about what needed to be done.

“Two of Nubo’s people are in the shop confronting Ycari.” I touched Mikas’s clenched fist, which nearly vibrated in fury. “Our time’s up. We need to go.”

His snarl made my skin prickle. “No one will lay a hand on you. I will not allow it.”

Part of me—the part that had taken care of herself for a long time without help from anyone but Brae—resented his words. But he knew I could hold my own, and it was nice to matter to someone so much that they would put themselves in harm’s way to keep me safe.

Still, I didn’t need him to be a hero right now. “Mikas,” I said, very firmly. “Look at me.”

He tore his angry gaze away from the door to do as I asked. His expression softened, though the tension in his body didn’t abate in the least.

“I understand your instincts are telling you to protect your mate,” I told him. “But I need you to listen to me and follow my instructions so we can get out of here.”

He snarled at the door. We heard nothing from the shop since this room was soundproof, but trouble would be headed our way soon if it wasn’t already.

“You said you trust me,” I reminded him. “Now I am asking you to keep trusting me.”

He bent his head to kiss my forehead. “I trust you, Isla. ”

“Good.” I bent and picked up my dress. “We’re going to let Madame Ycari buy us time and leave out the back way.”

“But will she be safe?” he asked, his frown deepening. “If our employer has sent people for us, or decides to come himself, they will not have come alone or unarmed.”

“Ycari isn’t alone or unarmed either.” I couldn’t reveal everything about Ycari’s shop or allies, but I touched his hand and added, “If Nubo knows anything about her, he might try to demand she turn us over, but he won’t want his people to threaten her.”

That statement made Mikas’s eyebrows go up, but he picked up his shirt. “Then I will follow your lead.”

I put my dress on over my head. When I brushed my hair out of my eyes, it was just in time to see him stuff my torn underwear into his pants pocket.

“A souvenir,” he said at my look, with another toothy grin. “And we must not leave evidence behind.”

“True.” I slung my cross-body bag over my head and went to the counter, where my perfume waited, untouched. I put the bottle carefully in the fabric pouch, sealed it inside the wooden box, and put the box in my bag. Then I went to the blank wall perpendicular to the room’s only visible door.

I rested my fingertips where the warning light had been. Trailing my fingers along the wall, I took three steps toward the back of the room, slid my hand up six centimeters, and then took four more steps without taking my fingertips off the wall. I pressed my palm to the wall there.

A door slid aside to my right, revealing a narrow, well-lit passageway.

“Three, six, four. Ah, I see now what Ycari meant by that.” Mikas joined me at the doorway. He took my hand and squeezed gently. “I very much look forward to learning what your profession was before you became a singer in a bar.”

“I’ve had a lot of different professions.” I glanced up at him with a ghost of a smile. His eyes gleamed in the low light. “Not many by my own choice. But this one—” I gestured at the passageway “—and being a singer, I chose. Watch our backs.”

He bent and withdrew a blade of his own from his right boot. A Hardanian scythe-knife, in fact, gorgeous and deadly. And all the gods above and below, the sight of it gripped in his hand and the way he showed his fangs made me quiver where his tongue had been only minutes ago.

“I will watch our backs,” he said.