Page 8 of Twilight Echoes (A New Dawn #7)

7

D arrell closed the door, making as little noise as possible. He turned and leaned against the wood frame and watched as Avery set the tray of cheese, crackers, grapes, and wine on the small dinette table off to the right of the sliders in Avery’s bedroom suite. For the last forty minutes, Avery had given him the grand tour of what could only be described as a palace.

Fitting, since they were the royal witch family.

He’d walked hallways lined with family pictures dating back generations, and Avery chatted about her childhood and her sisters and answered every question he had with a smile.

But it wasn’t enough. If this was their fate, then he needed more.

He needed a lifetime crammed into a couple of days.

“Where are you right now?” Avery asked, offering him a glass.

He took a large gulp, staring at her, wondering what her aura looked like when she didn’t have to use it to keep someone else alive. He suspected it danced across the room, touching everyone in her presence with a little drop of happiness.

“I’m wondering what might have happened had I chased you down when I saw you at my last performance with the ballet.”

“What do you mean?”

He took her by the hand, leading her to the sofa. “My heart ached when I got on the plane for California. You were too young and I told myself I could handle it. That I’d be back in a few years, but I always wondered if you had been one year older or maybe if I just stuck around and tried to be your friend… maybe things would be different now.”

“It wouldn’t have changed the spell.” She leaned back, lifting her feet and resting them on his lap. “We’d still be facing the same problem.”

“But we might have had a few years of getting to know each other before that curse kicked in.”

“That could have been worse.” She took a lock of her hair and twirled it through her fingers. “Don’t be all doom and gloom. Positive energy ignites auras, giving them energy, where negative?—”

He held up his hand. “Say no more.” Two large boxes next to the door to the actual bedroom caught his attention. “What’s in there?”

She glanced in the other direction and her lips parted. “Oh God. I can’t believe my mother actually thought we wanted to see that.”

“See what?” he asked, tracing the bottom of her foot, enjoying how her toes curled.

“Dance stuff that either she kept or I did.”

“So, you’ve got my posters in there from when I was with the New York City Ballet as the lead male? The ones your father said you had plastered on your walls.”

She groaned.

“I’m flattered.”

She jabbed him with her foot. “You should be.”

“Let’s go check it out.” He went to stand, but before he knew it, she was on her knees, holding him down on the sofa.

“I’d rather we didn’t.”

“Well, now I have to know what is in those boxes.” He skirted out from under her and raced to the other side with her following. Laughter filled the room, and for a moment, he felt something akin to hope.

“Why does everyone insist on embarrassing me?”

“I can only speak for myself, but your cheeks turn this flushed red color and your nose crinkles and it… well, it turns me on.”

“And that’s supposed to make me want to let you rummage through my pile of childhood memories?” She sat cross-legged on the floor, tucking her hair behind her ears.

He nodded, leaning forward, their mouths so close he could taste her vanilla lip gloss. “I want to know everything about you, Avery. I’ve watched you from a distance since you became an understudy. I flew home so I could attend your first performance. I sat in the?—”

“You did what?” She stared at him with wide eyes. Her lashes fluttered in rapid succession. Pink, purple, and red fairy dust floated across the room and landed in his lap like little snowflakes.

“I’d heard you were having your first shot as principal, and I had to see it. I watched from the balcony. You danced flawlessly, and when the crowd rose to their feet, it brought me to my knees.” He palmed her cheek. “I almost didn’t go back to LA and when I did, I was miserable.” He pulled out his phone, fanning through all the pictures with a shaky finger. “I did the unthinkable.” He held his phone out, showing her the images from the very end of the performance and in the back hall when she greeted family and friends.

“Oh my God.” She glanced between him and the phone. “Why didn’t you come talk to me? What do you think would have happened?”

“This.” He pressed his lips against hers, teasing softly. A low growl formed deep in his throat. “But I wanted you to chase your dream, and if I pursued you then, you might not have done that because we would have mated. Who knows, maybe the Legend of the Fated Moons would have started with us. I couldn’t have been the man who stood between you and the last seven years of your life. I got to live my dreams, and I’ve seen how dancing made you feel on that stage. All I’ve ever wanted was to make you happy and being a principal did that.”

She let out a long sigh, pulling back. “It’s hard to reconcile that you didn’t ask me out before your pack got sick.”

“I haven’t asked you out at all.”

She cocked her head and pursed her lips, obviously not amused by his offbeat humor this time.

“I took the job as lead choreographer before my father died. Before we knew about the spell and with your career winding down?—”

“Excuse me,” she said, folding her arms. “I think your chances of getting lucky were just cut in half.”

He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t want to ravish her body right now in this very room, but if all he had were a few stolen kisses, he’d die a happy man.

Maybe.

“How old was the principal dancer you replaced?” he asked.

Avery scowled. “Not the point.”

“It’s exactly the point, and you know it. Even though the pain you’ve been feeling has to do with the spell cast on me, your body is changing. You are getting older, and Olivia is good. Really good. If someone spent time with her, mentored her, she could spend a couple of years as a principal dancer.”

“She’s a pain in the ass,” Avery muttered. “And she’s not ready.”

“But she will be. And she could be next year. Help her make the transition and make your retirement about style and grace, not about being pushed out like what happened to the dancer you replaced. As I recall, after that first performance, she did everything she could to keep you down.”

“Gwen was a bitch.” Avery glanced away, rubbing a finger under her eye.

When he retired, it was easy. He’d rather be doing almost anything other than performing in front of an audience, where she still enjoyed it. It wasn’t just about the movement onstage, but the connection to the audience. He understood that in a different way and he wanted to show her she could still have it, while sitting in the audience and feeling their energy as her creation filled their souls.

Giving her a moment, he opened one of the boxes and pulled out a framed picture.

The one of them dancing.

In full color.

He tapped his finger against his chest. “I want to dance with you again,” he whispered, emotion choking his throat. He didn’t want to be onstage or have anyone watching. He just wanted to glide across the wood floor in an effortless motion of love. “I want to choreograph with you. We could do a year together at the ballet and then create our own company together. Open a studio together. If I live that long.”

“Stop making those kinds of comments.” She slapped his shoulder. “You think that’s what I should do? Hang up my pointe shoes and teach?” She gave him a scathing look as if he’d just cut the bottom of her legs off.

She’d totally missed his desire, but that too he understood.

He arched a brow. “Being a choreographer is a very different job than a teacher, not that there is anything wrong with the latter, but it takes vision and a deeper understanding of the art to do the former. Any one of those girls who never made the company could have easily become teachers, but, like being the one principal dancer, very few could make it as a choreographer.”

She let out a puff of air, slumping her shoulders. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know,” he said, setting the picture of them aside, twisting his body so he faced her directly. “I’m not saying you should quit right now. Finish the season, but then think about working with me, if we’re still kicking?—”

“I’ll think about it if you stop talking like that.”

With his hands on her thighs, he stared into her ocean pools of blue and green. Her eyes were an invitation to her spirit and he planned on jumping in. “Okay, but I need to say one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m a selfish bastard, and I want you, even if it’s only for a short period of time. I want to know what it’s like to be with you in every way. That might be wrong and we probably shouldn’t, but that’s how I feel.”

The corners of her mouth drifted up into a heart-melting smile. “I’d say if we didn’t take advantage of the time we do have, we’d be waving our middle finger at fate, and you know, karma, it’s a bitch.”

“We don’t want to upset karma,” he mused, melding his mouth against hers, drawing her tongue in, swirling and tasting her sweetness. His biceps tensed under her tender touch. He tried to bite back a groan as he lifted her into his arms. The ache in his joints had eased, but he knew that was temporary.

“Put me down,” she whispered into his neck, plastering him with soft kisses. They danced over his skin, spreading a blanket of future promises across his body.

“I will, on the bed,” he said, carrying her across the room, ignoring the little tickle in his brain that reminded him their time could end in a few short months. Or weeks. Maybe days.

Gently, he laid her on the plush light-green comforter. He drizzled kisses on her cheeks and nibbled on her earlobes. Her thin body hid her strong, lean muscles created from years of training. A ballerina’s body was deceiving, not that he’d ever seen one naked. He’d shied away from anyone who reminded him of Avery, which left him sexless in the last three years.

Not that he minded. His dreams were filled with visions of Avery. He’d completely given his heart at his last performance when he’d seen her in the lobby.

He untucked her shirt from her formfitting jeans, her stomach quivering under his fingertips. As he raised it higher, she lifted up on her elbows, then pushed to a seated position, tugging the thin fabric over her head, revealing a lacy white bra. Her tiny mounds peeked out over the fabric.

His throat tightened as his breath came out in a short pant. His pulse raced. He’d been with beautiful women, but never one he loved.

Could he say the words now?

No. It was too soon, even for him. While he felt it deep in his core, they needed time, which they potentially had little of, but still, it was better to wait.

He unhooked the front clasp of her tiny scrap of fabric and tossed it aside while he stared at her with pure admiration and love. Her hair curled over her shoulders, just above her tight nipple.

Everything in the background faded to a blur. Nothing existed but her and this moment. He could only hope he’d be the kind of man she needed.

Wanted.

Desired.

He traced a path from her navel to her areola, which puckered as she sucked in a breath and bit her lower lip. Her chest heaved out into the palm of his hand. Her soft skin felt like warm oil gliding over his body. Bending over, he sucked her nipple into his mouth. It felt like he’d been given a little piece of heaven.

Her fingers dug into his scalp as he let out a wild moan, which only reminded him that his pants had become a bit crowded.

Running his hands down her back, cupping her ass, he parted her legs, lifting her to his waist, letting her feel the magnitude of the effect she had over him.

He lowered her back to the bed, kissing her other nipple, scraping it with his teeth. She rewarded him with the rolling of her hips and louder groans.

“Let’s get you out of these pants,” he murmured.

“Only if we can get you out of yours.”

“I won’t argue with you about that.” He fumbled with the button of her jeans and then yanked them down to her ankles. Once again, he found himself staring at Avery. Not just her nakedness but the woman inside. The kind soul he knew her to be.

“Your turn,” she cooed, her petite fingers curling inside his jeans.

He ripped off his shirt, tossing it across the room.

Her lips sizzled on his chest as her hands worked on his zipper. He growled behind gritted teeth as she pulled him from his pants, stroking softly. Her fingers glided across him like a conductor, bringing the orchestra to that pivotal moment in the music where emotions exploded.

In his dreams, she always came to him filled with need and desire.

This was better than anything he’d ever fantasized about.

She looked up at him, lashes fluttering over her lust-filled eyes. Her pink tongue flicked over his tip.

“Have you ever pictured me in your mind doing this?”

He watched himself disappear into her hot mouth. “It was nothing like this,” he whispered, barely able to form words. He fisted her hair, tugging gently, keeping her from robbing him of what little control he had left.

She rolled his jeans over his hips.

He took her hand, wrapping her fingers around his hard shaft before taking her nipple and twisting it, running his thumb over it as it tightened even more.

She cupped him and took all of him in her mouth. Her tongue twisted and twirled over his sensitive skin.

“Jesus Christ. Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” he asked, dropping his head back. “Don’t answer that.” He shut his eyes tight as a deep howl bellowed in his gut. He gripped the comforter with one hand and fisted her hair with the other. His muscles tightened, and with every breath, his lungs burned with the purest of passion.

She licked him like he was her favorite ice cream, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d melt all over her.

“Stop,” he commanded, tugging her hair a little too harshly.

Lifting her head, she smiled, her eyes glistening with the power she knew she held over him like a jib sail catching the wind, hurling the boat forward.

“A little more than you can handle?”

“You could say that.” He draped her body over his, kissing her mouth wildly, his tongue in search of her soul. Of everything that made her the most incredible woman the world had ever seen. The fact that fate had deemed him worthy of her humbled him.

He rolled her to her back, settling his face between her legs, inhaling an intoxicating scent that reminded him of coconut milk. He made no effort to tease and toy. Instead, his mission was to satisfy in the most primal way. His lips kissed. His tongue swirled and flicked. His fingers stroked and pinched.

Her hips rolled with his movement, and her fingers dug into his scalp, encouraging him to go deeper.

Harder.

Faster.

“Oh, yes,” she said with a panting moan. “Mmmmmmm.”

Wanting to see her face, he knelt between her legs. Two fingers glided in and out while he rubbed his thumb over her hard nub. His own release meant nothing without her climax.

“Yes… Oh God,” she said, her head bobbing back and forth as she clutched her breasts. Her body jerked and bucked as her legs drew closed, drenching his hands with lust, desire, and the purest form of love.

With a surge of urgency, he guided her legs open, his featherlight touches loving yet insistent. “Don’t stop. Keep it going,” he whispered, thrusting himself into her with a hard, powerful stroke. He paused momentarily, heaving in a deep breath before pushing a little deeper.

She was so tight.

Too tight.

“Avery,” he whispered. “Are you okay?” He stared at her beautiful face.

Her eyes were closed, and she bit down on her lower lip. She grabbed his ass and raised her hips, wincing.

All the air in his lungs flew out like a bird taking flight. “Oh, my sweet Avery.” He fanned her cheeks as he pulled back a little, easing himself slightly farther in as gently as he could. “Open your eyes.”

She refused him. Instead, she raised her hips, grinding against him and making a noise that was a cross between pleasure and pain.

He kissed her tenderly. Lovingly. He moved inside her slowly. Never going too deep. That would come soon enough. She needed a little time to adjust. And she would. But right now, he hated that he hurt his mate. It wasn’t a bad hurt. He knew that. There was enjoyment in their lovemaking. “Please, Avery. Look at me.”

She blinked open her eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He rolled to his back, giving her total control of the pace. Of how much she could take in. The only thing he wouldn’t let her get away with was not experiencing another orgasm through the act of sex.

That would be a real travesty.

Her first time shouldn’t be about getting through the uncomfortable part, even though that was necessary. But she should still have all the joy.

He reached up with one hand and toyed with her tight nipple. His other hand squeezed her hip, guiding her to him and encouraging her to find her rhythm. To find what felt right for her, because this wasn’t about him.

Soft moans fell from her lips as she rocked back and forth, slowly accepting his entire length into her body. “Oh my…” She held his gaze. Her movements became wild. Frenzied. She dug her nails into his chest, clawing at his skin. “Darrell,” she whispered. “Yes, yes, please,” she begged.

He found her hard nub and rubbed it with his thumb while he jerked his hips upward, praying he wasn’t hurting her anymore. But with the wild sounds escaping her lips, he highly doubted that.

He couldn’t maintain control if he tried. So he didn’t. His entire life came down to this tiny sliver in time. The idea that the rest of his life with Avery could be cut short angered him, but it also made him want to savor every second he had with her.

And her family.

“Avery,” he whispered as his release exploded in her heat. He thrust inside her, trying to swallow his howl that could wake the dead. She did things to him no woman had ever been capable of and it wasn’t physical.

However, that turned out to be a really wicked side effect.

She collapsed on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her body and sucked in a deep breath, spent from the most mind-blowing experience he could have ever imagined. It was bigger than the first time he’d gotten a standing ovation for his choreography. Everything he’d done in life had led him to one place.

One person.

Avery.

She rolled to the side and he held her close, running his hand up and down her arm.

“You should have told me.” He tilted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I would have done things differently.”

She blinked out a tear. “And that’s why I didn’t say anything. It would have weirded you out.”

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m not upset by it. I just wish you would have clued me in, especially after we talked about it. I mean, you led me to believe that?—”

“No. You assumed. And besides, do you have any idea what it’s like to be a twenty-four-year-old virgin? I mean, how pathetic.” She groaned, burying her head in his chest.

“Well, the good news is you’re not a virgin anymore.”

“I’m not in the mood for your weird humor, Darrell.”

He chuckled, but she was right. His humor was off-color and inappropriate, even if it was funny. “It’s not pathetic. I certainly didn’t care. I mean, I did. I do.” He ran his fingers through his hair. He was tripping over his words and if he wasn’t careful, she was going to kick him right out of this bed. “A big part of me is super glad you’ve never been with another man before. I wasn’t kidding when I said I can be a jealous wolf. The only thing that would have changed by you telling me you’d never had sex before is I wouldn’t have been so harsh right out of the gate. That hurt you and I could have been a little softer about it. But it wouldn’t have changed me doing it. I love you. I want to be with you. You’re the only woman for me.”

“Oh my God. It can’t be.”

“Too soon?”

She yanked the sheet around her body and jumped from the bed.

Well, that didn’t go over well.

He sighed as he found his boxers and hiked them up to his hips. He followed her to the sliding glass doors. His jaw dropped open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He stared at the double moon hanging low in the sky. While it was a beautiful sight with both moons glowing bright, electrifying the dark sky, the last thing he needed to worry about was the fact his mate was carrying his child.

And everything that meant.

Or the fact he might not live long enough to meet his child—children—if the legend held true and twins were really what was predicted for the second pairing.

“I hope my parents are sound asleep in bed and don’t see that.” She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I really don’t feel like dealing with their smirks or snide remarks in the morning.”

“Neither do I,” Darrell mumbled.

“I’m not going to make it through the entire season as principal now, am I?”

“No. You’re not,” he said. “I want you to know my intention was not to get you pregnant. I just wanted to give you an orgasm or two.”

“Well, you achieved all those things.” She patted his chest. “I might have lost my mind, but I might want a few more of those in the morning.” She raised up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I’m not saying this because of the moons. Or what that means. I’m saying it because I feel it in my soul. I know we’re connected. We always have been. I love you. I have for a long time. I get the whole imprinting thing. I believe it’s true. As is the fated mates. But I would have loved you without it.”

“You’re going to make this werewolf cry.” He kissed her temple. “I don’t know if that’s your phone or mine. But one of them, or both, is buzzing like crazy.”

“I don’t know about you, but I will ignore it.” She turned and headed toward the bed.

“Sounds like a solid plan.” Part of Darrell was elated with all that had transpired.

He had his mate.

She was his. They were going to be a family.

As long as he didn’t end up six feet under.