Wind Demon Triology: Book II: Evil Wind by Charlotte Boyett-Compo Page B
Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
and theirs. Raphie powered down her weapons and is just chatting away like nothing unusual is happening. And there's a Reaper aboard that Amazeen vessel,” he said then flung out a hand.
"Oh, Khiershon, no!” Caitlin said. “What are you going to...?"
"I can't deal with that right now,” her lover snarled. “I can't sit here and think a bloodkin of mine is being tortured. There's nothing I can do about it, but I will rescue him as soon as we get to Rysalia Prime. That I swear!"
Tossing his britches beside his shirt, he padded over to the bunk and stood staring down at his wife, a muscle working in his tight jaw.
"I need you, wench,” he said. “By the gods, I need you desperately right now. I need to lose myself in you."
Caitlin knew he wanted to be distracted, to get his mind off whatever might be happening to one of his own that he could neither prevent nor stop. It was Khier's way. She smiled and opened her arms. “I am here, milord."
He turned his head to one side as he gazed at her.
"'For in his heart, as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies
His heart which trembles at the beam
Of her soul-searching eyes',” he quoted.
"From which of his poems did that come?” she asked, her heart thudding at the love blazing from his gaze.
"To the River,” he replied.
"Poe wrote some good stuff,” she said.
"Aye, that he did,” Khiershon said and dipped his knee to the over-sized bunk. Facing her, he propped his head on his closed fist and let his gaze wander over her shapely form.
"What would Iyan say if he knew you'd come back to bed?” she asked softly, reaching out to smooth a lock of thick brown hair from over his forehead.
"He'd be pissed,” Khiershon admitted.
"And that you planned to ravage your lady?"
"He'd be doubly pissed,” the Reaper said with a laugh.
She leaned over him, pushing him to his back, her hand trailing slowly and gently over his broad chest. “What if your lady was the one doing the ravaging, milord?"
"He'd be shocked to know I'd allow such a thing at a time like this and be amazed that I could enjoy being ravished while I'm worried sick."
"Umm,” she said and slid her lips beguilingly over his, claiming his mouth as was her right. She slipped her tongue between his firm lips, tasted him, and then grinned. “Let's shock the hell out of Iyan McGregor, then."
The Reaper's arms enclosed her, holding her to him as she thrust that sweet piece of flesh into his mouth once more. His body quivered as she withdrew her tongue and flicked its tip to first one corner then the other of his mouth.
"What would he say...” she began as she planted kisses on his cheek, his chin, and then down his neck, “...if your lady were to keep you abed all day and use you for her base intentions?"
"There's no telling what he'd say,” Khiershon said, his words coming huskily as her lips closed on the Suprasternal notch at the base of his throat. She suckled the pulse that throbbed there and her actions set his staff to echoing the rhythm.
She trailed her fingers down his bare arm from shoulder to elbow and back and again, feeling the goose bumps popping up on his flesh. She was lying atop him, one leg crooked over his left thigh, her lower body resting between his legs.
Khiershon closed his eyes as she slid further down him, her lips blazing lightning soft kisses on his pectorals and down his sternum. She had reached up to take one manly pap between her thumb and middle finger and was gently rolling the hard little nub.
"You are a witch, Caitlin Cree,” he whispered.
"I am a woman in need of pleasuring her man,” she said, closing her mouth around his nipple.
He let his arms fall away from her as she suckled him. Trills of pleasure were undulating through his body. He closed his eyes and gave in to the erotic sensations flowing through him. When her fingernail grazed his navel, he drew in a harsh breath.
"Like that?” she whispered.
"I am at your mercy, wench. Do whatever you want with
"Oh, Khiershon, no!” Caitlin said. “What are you going to...?"
"I can't deal with that right now,” her lover snarled. “I can't sit here and think a bloodkin of mine is being tortured. There's nothing I can do about it, but I will rescue him as soon as we get to Rysalia Prime. That I swear!"
Tossing his britches beside his shirt, he padded over to the bunk and stood staring down at his wife, a muscle working in his tight jaw.
"I need you, wench,” he said. “By the gods, I need you desperately right now. I need to lose myself in you."
Caitlin knew he wanted to be distracted, to get his mind off whatever might be happening to one of his own that he could neither prevent nor stop. It was Khier's way. She smiled and opened her arms. “I am here, milord."
He turned his head to one side as he gazed at her.
"'For in his heart, as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies
His heart which trembles at the beam
Of her soul-searching eyes',” he quoted.
"From which of his poems did that come?” she asked, her heart thudding at the love blazing from his gaze.
"To the River,” he replied.
"Poe wrote some good stuff,” she said.
"Aye, that he did,” Khiershon said and dipped his knee to the over-sized bunk. Facing her, he propped his head on his closed fist and let his gaze wander over her shapely form.
"What would Iyan say if he knew you'd come back to bed?” she asked softly, reaching out to smooth a lock of thick brown hair from over his forehead.
"He'd be pissed,” Khiershon admitted.
"And that you planned to ravage your lady?"
"He'd be doubly pissed,” the Reaper said with a laugh.
She leaned over him, pushing him to his back, her hand trailing slowly and gently over his broad chest. “What if your lady was the one doing the ravaging, milord?"
"He'd be shocked to know I'd allow such a thing at a time like this and be amazed that I could enjoy being ravished while I'm worried sick."
"Umm,” she said and slid her lips beguilingly over his, claiming his mouth as was her right. She slipped her tongue between his firm lips, tasted him, and then grinned. “Let's shock the hell out of Iyan McGregor, then."
The Reaper's arms enclosed her, holding her to him as she thrust that sweet piece of flesh into his mouth once more. His body quivered as she withdrew her tongue and flicked its tip to first one corner then the other of his mouth.
"What would he say...” she began as she planted kisses on his cheek, his chin, and then down his neck, “...if your lady were to keep you abed all day and use you for her base intentions?"
"There's no telling what he'd say,” Khiershon said, his words coming huskily as her lips closed on the Suprasternal notch at the base of his throat. She suckled the pulse that throbbed there and her actions set his staff to echoing the rhythm.
She trailed her fingers down his bare arm from shoulder to elbow and back and again, feeling the goose bumps popping up on his flesh. She was lying atop him, one leg crooked over his left thigh, her lower body resting between his legs.
Khiershon closed his eyes as she slid further down him, her lips blazing lightning soft kisses on his pectorals and down his sternum. She had reached up to take one manly pap between her thumb and middle finger and was gently rolling the hard little nub.
"You are a witch, Caitlin Cree,” he whispered.
"I am a woman in need of pleasuring her man,” she said, closing her mouth around his nipple.
He let his arms fall away from her as she suckled him. Trills of pleasure were undulating through his body. He closed his eyes and gave in to the erotic sensations flowing through him. When her fingernail grazed his navel, he drew in a harsh breath.
"Like that?” she whispered.
"I am at your mercy, wench. Do whatever you want with