“I’ll let myself out, shall I?” Peter muttered. “It’s not a big deal, especially since there’s just an open doorway to walk through. I’ll pull the pieces of the door sort of back into place for you.”
Now that the other male was well and truly leaving, Graydon ignored him and concentrated on kissing Bel breathless.
Preg. Nant.
TWENTY-ONE
Healing did happen, over time. So did happiness.
Graydon would never stop missing Constantine, but over the next several weeks, the nightmares did eventually fade.
He and Bel began to search for a small house outside the city, with a big private yard, where they could go sometimes for weekends and vacations. When they found a charming little Cape Cod cottage, she moved what furniture and artwork she wanted to keep into it.
At her request, he also took her shopping so she could buy several pairs of jeans. He didn’t have room to consider that she did it only to humor him. She was too transparently gleeful when she slipped on her first pair of Levi’s. As he watched her simple, grinning pleasure, he began to realize Ferion hadn’t been the only one who had lived a life constricted by a narrow role to play.
After they went shopping, he took her out to Ruby’s Diner for lunch. To his mild surprise, nobody recognized her. She had wound up her distinctive hair into a bun and tucked it into a Yankees’ baseball cap. She ordered apple pancakes and coffee, and polished off the meal while she laughed at Ruby’s ribald sense of humor, and it was easy.
Loving her, letting her light up his life, was so easy.
As March came and winter relinquished its snowy grip on the city, gradually, life in the Tower began to assume something of a new normal.
He called Lake Tahoe several times to keep in touch with Julian’s progress. After surgeries and grafts, along with healing spells and copious amounts of blood, the doctors had managed to save Julian’s hands.
He would need several months of physical therapy to gain back the strength and flexibility in his grip, but his long-term prognosis was excellent. Julian himself was not very talkative about the subject, so in order to get any real news, Graydon learned to chat with Melly either before or after he talked to Julian. He was intensely glad to hear the relief and hope in Melly’s voice. That old Vampyre was a hard son of a bitch to kill.
Bel stayed in close contact with Ferion. Gradually Graydon watched her relax, releasing the anxiety she had carried for so long. Optimism entered her eyes and voice whenever she talked about the Elven demesne, and her son in particular. He was not only adjusting. After having his soul shackled for so long, he reveled in his freedom.
It appeared he had also learned from his mistakes. Word came to them from a variety of sources that the new Elven High Lord was making considered decisions, marked with temperance and restraint. The news coming out of South Carolina gained a positive forward momentum.
Like Graydon, the Elves would never forget, but after such a dark time in their history, he did believe they had begun to thrive again.
While he and the rest of the sentinels hired new staff, delegated work and generally figured out how to give Dragos the year he had promised Liam, Bel started a massive project of her own.
Architectural drawings and plans took over the dining room table. After approaching Dragos via email, and arguing with him over the course of several days—she swore she would never have followed through with her original inquiry if she’d had to talk to him in person—Dragos allocated a budget for her project that was large enough to make Graydon’s eyes widen when she showed him the approval letter.
Stay in budget, the email warned. Or make sure you come in under, because this is all you get.
“We’re going to cover the whole rooftop,” she told Graydon, eyes sparkling with excitement. “There’s such a limited amount of space, we’ll have to plant every shrub and tree carefully, but that’s okay. The whole roof is going to turn into an oasis.”
“Even the helipad area?” he asked, eyebrows up.
“Yes. Helicopters can land perfectly fine on grass. Right now, all the avian Wyr do is launch and land up there anyway. Now people will be able to go up to the roof for picnics too, or to sleep out underneath the stars if they need. And every floor is going to get its own indoor garden. We’ll maximize every inch of space—there’ll be vertical gardens everywhere. We’ll plant ivy and cooking herbs that people can use if they want, and some will be flowering vines.” She drew in a deep breath. “This is still a skyscraper. It won’t be as wild as a Wood, but it’ll be so much more refreshing for everybody.”
He loved her passion. He adored her enthusiasm. He was so much in love with her, his body felt like it encased a city of light.
Resting his chin in his hands, he watched her face for hours and listened as she talked over her plans. He helped her pore over résumés as she hired her gardening staff. Some of them would be temporary, while others would become permanent positions. The indoor and rooftop gardens would require ongoing maintenance.
One night, as they curled up in bed, he asked, “I love how happy this has made you, but what are you going to do when you’re finished with the project?”
Her head rested on his chest, and he played with long strands of her hair. The need to keep touching her in some way was compulsive.
She was always welcoming, and responded with such pleasure, often their plans for the day flew out the window as they tumbled back into bed, and he was perpetually fifteen minutes late for work. Nobody minded. When he finally showed up, they greeted him with understanding smiles.
“I’ll find another project to work on,” she told him. She pressed her lips to his pectoral, eyes sparkling. “Maybe I’ll take over Central Park. I’ve always wanted to, you know.”
“Now, that would be big enough for a wild Wood.” He laughed. She was going to transform the city.
“Wouldn’t it just?” Her voice softened. “Besides, silly man, this project isn’t what has made me happy. You have. And Constantine has.”
Earlier that day, they had found out the baby’s sex. It felt a little awkward to start calling such a small entity by such a large name with so much emotional history, but with enough practice they would adjust, and he felt sure that Con would approve if he’d known.
And because of Constantine, their son was alive. There was no better way to honor his sacrifice.
Graydon was learning to be gentle with himself. With care and respect, he set aside those thoughts to concentrate on the wonderful miracle lying beside him.
• • •
Bel was entranced with lying in bed alongside Graydon and talking with him about the events in their days. The sensation of his long, powerful frame stretched out beside her, radiating heat like a great lazy hunting cat, preoccupied her utterly.
She couldn’t wait to go to bed each night. Yes, the sex was mind-blowing and addictive, exhilarating and exhausting. Yes, her body learned very quickly to hunger for the touch of his mouth, the caress of his fingers, the sensation of his powerful body moving over hers.
Yes, she ached to be filled with him. She needed to be with him so badly, being apart from him for more than a few hours at a time was unbearable.
Apparently he felt the same, for sometimes when she returned from errands, she could barely make it through the apartment door before he pinned her against the wall and tore her clothes off, taking her with an all-consuming hunger.
But every bit as important as the passion they shared was the fact that she loved simply being with him, basking in his vitality, rubbing her foot along the long muscled length of his legs as they talked, the crisp hairs tickling her toes.
Often, she woke out of a sound sleep just to roll over and stare in amazement at his shadowed, relaxed features.
She loved that he couldn’t stop touching her. Even as they laughed at the most ridiculous things, he stroke
d the curve of her shoulder, or danced his fingers along her hip. He would play with her hair, twining it around his hand, or caress the curve of her breasts.
In many different ways, he told her how much he cherished her. Gradually he branded the message into the patterns he drew on her skin, until it revolutionized how she viewed her world.
Now, as their conversation died away, he came up on one elbow and looked down at her. A shadow passed over his expression, a touch of grief and a yearning so strong, it ripped her apart inside. She never wanted him to be in pain. If she could, she would take all of it for him, just so that she could see him smile again.
Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against her breast. She cradled his head, pressing her mouth to his temple. He whispered, “I can’t be apart from you again.”
She understood what he meant. He had given his great, noble soul to her without reservation. He had mated with her.
“I can’t be apart from you, either,” she murmured softly. “You are everything I ever wanted, everything I could ever need. Gray, you’re my world.”
He lifted his head. The look in his eyes was vulnerable. “No regrets?”
An unamused laugh broke out of her. “Gods, yes. A ton of them. But they all revolve around reaching Ferion sooner, before Malphas had trapped him, so that you and I wouldn’t have had to be apart for so long.”
And maybe they wouldn’t have had to lose Constantine and Soren.
But that path of thought lay in the wrong direction. Asking what ifs was an insidious pastime, filled with useless pain.
The truth was, eventually, someone would have had to kill Malphas. Somehow, the cost would have been high. Maybe down another road, it would have been Graydon who had been killed.
Firmly, she turned away from that path, to focus on the wealth of what she truly had.
A small smile tugged at his lips. He nuzzled her with his nose. “We would have had that house outside of Charleston.”
She shook her head. “That was a pipe dream,” she told him. “Or, maybe it would have been a bridge until we got ourselves sorted out emotionally and did what had to be done. If we had ever truly experienced even a smallest part of that dream, I could never have returned to the same dwelling where Calondir lived, no matter how big it was or how separate we lived our lives.”
A hint of blade flashed in his eyes. “That’s good, because otherwise I would have had to kill him.”
“You say the sweetest things,” she crooned up at him. When he burst out laughing, she grinned.
As quickly as it started, his laughter died, and hunger took its place.
Oh, she recognized that look. She was beginning to have a physical reaction every time she saw it in his face.
Her heart began to pound, the muscles in her thighs trembled, and desire for him melted through her body in a liquid gush. They grew so sated every time they made love, yet somehow it only fueled the fire.
He bent his head and kissed her, his lips playing softly over hers in such a cherishing caress, tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She kissed him with everything she had, pouring all the love she felt for him through the sensitive barrier of her skin.
Her body was a love letter written just for him. As his fingers stroked along the curves of her breast, the peaks of her nipples tightened. She’d had no idea that she could feel so much pleasure.
Arching her back, she rubbed against his body. Low at the back of his throat, he made a soft, sexy sound, like a growl. But the growl didn’t fade. It remained a steady vibration.
With astonishment and delight, she realized her adorable, dangerous lover was purring.
She didn’t dare say anything, or he would get self-conscious and stop.
And she never wanted him to stop.
He was so observant. Hiding her face against his shoulder, she decided she needed to take quick action, to keep him from wondering about whatever was happening in her expression.
She began to kiss him all over the broad expanse of his muscled chest. As she gently nibbled, licked and suckled at his nipples, he sucked in his breath.
“I was going to do that,” he muttered. “I mean, to you.”
“You give me so much pleasure, all the time,” she whispered. “This time, let me focus on you.”
She ran her mouth down the rippling muscles of his flat stomach. Pulling her hair to one side, she kissed the tip of his large erection. He was beautifully made, his penis thick and full, while underneath, his sac had drawn tight with arousal.
He settled back against the pillows, parting his legs to give her better access, while he stroked her hair and watched her, his look turning heavy-lidded and sensual.
She smiled up the length of his body and told him, “I love you.”
As he opened his mouth to respond, she bent her head back to his cock and took him in her mouth.
His whole big body jerked, and he slammed his head back against the pillow. “Holy gods,” he gasped. “Your mouth is so fucking hot.”
She was too busy licking and sucking along the broad, thick head of his cock to reply out loud. Telepathically, she murmured, Is that a good thing?
“Sweetheart, it’s an amazing, amazing thing.” Gently, he caressed her cheek, and ran a finger along the edge of her lips where he penetrated her mouth. His hands were shaking. He whispered, “You are so beautiful.”
Wordlessly, she crooned. He was beautiful too, everywhere, both inside and out. Opening her throat, she took him all the way in and held the position for one long, luscious moment. When she couldn’t sustain it any longer, she pulled back, sucking hard along his length. Then she impaled herself on him again.
She lost herself in sensuality, working him with her mouth, while she cupped and caressed his sac, and spread her hands over the flat expanse of his stomach. When she ran the edge of her fingernails lightly down the inside of his thighs, his body tightened until he was rock hard all over.
“Here it is,” he warned on a harsh gasp. “Goddamn.”
Ooh. She wanted his climax more than she wanted her own.
Closing her eyes, she reached blindly up to him with one hand, concentrating everything on his pleasure. His hand closed over hers, gripping her tightly, as he groaned and jetted into her mouth.
She found the rhythm of his pulsing, stroking his cock with her tongue. Shaking and swearing, his powerful body jerked underneath her caress, and his warm, salty semen filled her mouth. She swallowed him down eagerly, embracing every last, earthy part of him.
After a few moments, he exploded out of his reclining position. Pulling her head away from his erection, he growled, “I can’t take any more of that, but it isn’t enough. I’ve got to get inside you.”
He sounded harsh, stripped of everything but need. His compulsion to mate rode him relentlessly, and she surrendered herself to it.
Following his urging, she rolled onto her side, and he lifted one of her legs to spoon her body and enter her from behind. She nestled back against his chest. It was one of their favorite positions, leaving her torso bare so that he could caress her everywhere.
As he fucked her, he pinched her nipples gently between thumb and forefinger, rolling the stiff, peaked flesh between thumb and forefinger. It sent sparks of sensation along her nerve endings, heightening her pleasure. He hooked one arm underneath her waist, reaching around to finger her opening.
When he found her clitoris, she jerked in his hands. He growled into her neck, encasing her in his arms, plucking and rubbing at her pleasure points while his cock slid in and out, in and out.
Making love to him was so unbearably good. So good. As the inner pressure built, her breath came in sobs. She twisted and pushed back against him, trying to find relief.
“I have to come so badly, it hurts,” she gasped.
“It’s okay, love,” he murmured into her ear, the sen
sation of his voice curling deep into her body. “I’ll take you there. I’ll always take you there.”
He was a man of his word. She could trust in him completely. Whatever he said he would do, he would do.
He kept his promises.
Always faithful, always true.
She had just enough time to think it, before the demands of her body took over completely. The press of his callused fingers moved against her hypersensitive nubbin of flesh, hurtling her forward.
Pleasure cascaded, one peak following the next, as he took her there, just like he said.
He took her home.
• • •
Much later, after Bel had fallen asleep, Graydon couldn’t turn his mind off. He eased away, tucking the covers around her warm, lax body. After pulling on sweatpants, he scooped something he’d been keeping secret out of his bedside drawer, and stepped outside, onto the balcony.
A moody, fitful wind played with his hair and flowed like invisible water along the bare skin of his chest. He opened the small box and considered the contents, nestled in dark velvet.
Brilliance sparkled in the shadows. Chewing on his lip, he considered the eternity ring covered in a row of bright, flawless diamonds.
Maybe it was the wrong way to go. He thought the ring was beautiful, and he loved the symbolism of an eternity ring, but perhaps he should have chosen something more traditional to offer as an engagement ring. A diamond solitaire, or better yet, an emerald.
He felt pretty sure she would love an emerald. Maybe he should go back to the jeweler’s one more time. And he needed to make a reservation at the right kind of restaurant.
A classy one, with a maître d’, cloth napkins, unpronounceable wine names, and too many glasses and forks. Alexander was a classy dude. He would know of the right place.
Or maybe she would prefer something else. A concert? A day cruise out to sea?
Oh hell, he was no good at this kind of traditional shit. It wasn’t like he’d ever proposed before.
The balcony door opened, and Bel’s sleepy voice sounded behind him. “What are you doing out here?”