The Secrets of Roan Island

32. Noah

32

Noah

T his is unlike any of the kisses we’ve shared before. Fragile, like a butterfly’s wings. More beautiful and heartrending than a shooting star cutting through a dark night. The soft touch of her lips remakes me. I never thought I’d get to experience this again. Ruby, so close, in my arms, our mouths pressed together in a connection that reaches down into my soul and hooks my hearts to hers.

At first, I’m too surprised to move.

But then her tongue darts out and flicks the seam of my lips. My whole body buzzes, weightless for a moment, before going taut. I open for her and she opens wider for me, tongues tangling as if we hope to tie ourselves in a knot that can never be undone. Oh, how I wish I could fuse her to me, put myself between her and every harm. For now, the best I can do is give her tonight, give her all the pleasure I can.

It’s too close to Solstice to use my venom, so I keep my fangs carefully retracted. I don’t need venom to make her feel good. And I have every intention of making her feel very, very good.

She lifts off my lap, standing in front of me as she slowly undoes the buttons down the front of her frock. My claws itch to tear the dress from her more quickly, but I don’t want to rush this. Not tonight.

With each pearly button she releases, more skin is revealed. I groan when I realize she’s not wearing a chemise. The curves of her breasts tease me as they peek out from under the gaping fabric. It’s too much for me to take.

I grab her wrists and pull her closer. “Let me.”

One at a time, I unhook the buttons at her wrists with shaking hands before moving on to those leading down, down. There are buttons all the way to the hem of her dress, an embellishment that’s been driving me mad all day. When the swell of her belly is revealed, I lay a kiss over her skin and swirl my tongue around her belly button. A soft gasp comes from her lips as her fingers tangle in my hair, and I smile as I continue my work.

The dress is open enough to slip it off her shoulders, but I’m enjoying this too much for it to end.

I graze my knuckles between her legs and move to my knees so I can reach the final buttons. The fabric hangs on either side of her, revealing her uncovered breasts and white ruffled pantaloons. I plant a soft kiss over the material, directly between her legs, letting my warm breath linger. Her hands come to my shoulders as a tiny moan slips from her lips.

I look up at her, savoring the way her chest rises and falls. Her eyes are dark, though not as dark as I’m sure mine are. She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, and there’s a tense silence between us that feels more powerful than any words. We both know exactly what we’re doing and where this is going. This isn’t like the wild heat of the new moon. This is something different, more intentional.

I unbutton the waistband of her undergarment before pushing it down her legs, my hands brushing the outsides of her thighs. I lift one foot, then the other, slipping away the offending material. Then I let my gaze travel over her.

“Goddess, you’re beautiful,” I whisper.

Her dress hangs open like a royal robe. Underneath, her skin glistens and shines with a pale blush. Her heart beats quickly, the pulse point in her neck noticeably jumping with each pump of her blood. I lick my lips. She mirrors the action.

“Bite me,” she whispers.

I shake my head, kiss her thigh just above the knee, and glide my hands up her sides. She slips her dress off her shoulders and lets it fall to the floor as if she’s shedding her skin and her defenses. Then she drops to her knees in front of me so we’re face to face and undoes the first button on my shirt with the same deliberate care I used to undress her. She kisses my chest, just below my collarbone, above my hearts. When she finishes her work and slides my shirt all the way off, her blunt little teeth nip at the side of my neck.

“Bite me,” she whispers again.

“It’s too close to Solstice.” I’ve done experiments on my venom, it shouldn’t fully change until the moons align tomorrow night, but I won’t risk it. Not with her.

“Then stand up,” she commands.

I do, and she undoes my buckle and pulls off my pants and undergarments. The last time we were intimate, when we feasted on each other and she let me drink from her, my clothes stayed on. This time, I bare myself for her. Just as she’s bared herself for me. She touches me with reverence, her palms sliding from my calves to my thighs, curving over my ass and around to my hard cock, the evidence of my desire for her.

With a tilt of her head, she looks up at me, still on her knees. There’s trust in her gaze that I don’t deserve. A willingness to put herself in a vulnerable position before me. Naked and unafraid.

I swallow, my throat fighting the movement, just short of closed as emotion floods my body. No one has ever looked at me the way Ruby does, as more than just a pretty face or a monster who can offer pleasure with a bite.

She leans forward and tests the slit of my cock with her tongue, taking in a drop of precum, then moaning as if I’m the best thing she’s ever tasted.

I slide my fingers into her hair and tilt her head back so I can meet her gaze. “Ruby.” Her name is all I’m able to say, because my throat finishes closing around the sound.

She licks up the bottom of my shaft from root to tip, and my whole body vibrates with pleasure. I’m unable to stifle the groan. She takes me into her mouth, her slender fingers wrapped around the base of my cock. Her teeth graze my skin, and I hiss, loving the minuscule touch of violence.

But this isn’t what I want from her tonight. I don’t want her on her knees for me. I want to be equals. I want to be as connected as I can to her. I want to be inside her.

After she bobs her head forward once more, I remove myself from her grasp and offer her my hand as I’ve done countless times before, but this time there’s no glove between us. Nothing at all between us. Both naked and revealed for what we are.

A question graces her features, but she doesn’t voice it. Her fingers meet my palm, and I curl mine around them as I pull her up to me. I kiss her knuckles, the inside of her wrist, then sweep her into my arms and set her gently in the middle of the bed.

“Let me worship you.” I crawl over her and meet her lips with my own, my palm wrapping around the back of her head. The kiss is a slow torture. I want to devour her, but I need to prove—to her and to myself—that I’m worthy of this encounter. That she’s making the right choice to share her body with me.

So I slide my tongue against the seam of her lips. When she opens her mouth and her tongue meets mine, I savor her, warm with the understanding she’s choosing me in spite of everything at war around us.

She grasps my shoulders to bring me closer, whimpering under my mouth. “Please.” Though she hasn’t specified what she’s asking for, I feel it in my own body. I need her. She needs me.

With an arm banded around her back, I adjust her, pulling her closer. Her legs wrap around my waist, trying to position us how she wants. I smile at her attempts to rush this, my eager little ta’ari . My mouth trails from her mouth to her jaw. “Please what?”

“Bite me.”

I draw back so I can meet her gaze, worried suddenly that she just wants the pleasure of my venom, that I misconstrued her need. “I can’t. I won’t hurt you.”

She shakes her head. “No. No venom. Not that. Take my blood,” she whispers.

My hearts stutter in my chest. This woman. “You want me to feed from you? Without venom?”

“Yes.” She kisses me again, rocking her hips.

I pull back more, placing a hand to the top of her chest to keep her from me. “Do you understand what you’re asking? Without the venom, my bite…” I shake my head.

“I know it’ll hurt, Noah.” Her tone is soft and her hand on my cheek softer.

I study her for any sign of hesitation and see none. She knows what she’s asking. She knows the venom is what makes the bite pleasurable and without it, my fangs will feel just as sharp as they are. “Why?” I ask. “Why would you want that?”

Her fingertips tilt my chin so I’m meeting her gaze. “So you’re strong.”

I groan, leaning forward to take her mouth with mine. She wants to give me her blood, willingly. For no other reason than because she cares? For me? I’m less controlled than before her request, more needy for her, the scent of her blood like a drug.

I roll us so that she’s on top and my hands are free to roam, to pinch her breasts and cup her ass. I touch every lush inch of her skin, kiss her until her lips are bruised. My cock, pressed against her soft stomach, aches to be inside her.

When she tries to line me up with her entrance and take control for herself, I flip us again and sit up so I can look at her.

“Spread your legs,” I order. “I want to see you.”

My hunger for her is acute, but I refuse to rush this. I want to savor every moment I have with her.

Tomorrow, I’ll make Ruby leave for her own protection. But tonight, I’ll make her come. I’ll squeeze every drop of pleasure from her. Ruin her for all other men. Tonight, I’ll make her mine and ensure she knows how completely I’m hers.

Her chest rises and falls in bursts, but she does what I want and spreads herself for me, a blush heating her skin. With her feet flat on the bed, her knees wide, I take in her glistening sex, soft and supple.

“You’re the definition of beauty,” I tell her, taking slow breaths to calm myself and indulge in her scent. I slide my hands from her knees, up her thighs to the juncture between her hips and legs, then twist my head to breathe on her inner thigh. “I want to taste you, ta’ari .”

She shivers, even though my mouth hasn’t touched her yet.

“Do you want that?”

“Yes.” Her desire catches in the word as it effervesces around me.

I taunt her with my tongue, sliding across the skin of her thighs with wet, lingering kisses. I mark her inner thigh by sucking it. With my fingers, I tease her, sliding them gently through her wet warmth, then drawing away, pulling her pleasure out in increments, making her wild for me. She moves her hips, seeking my mouth and hands in that special spot that will bring her release. After she’s moaning, sweating, crying, I give her a lick and flick with my tongue.

She mewls a needy cry, her hands in my hair. “Please, Noah. I’m going to die.”

“We can’t have that,” I say against her sex, inserting a finger as my tongue takes. Another finger, and her hips pulse against my mouth as her cries grow louder, her pants and gasps more intense.

“Noah! Oh stars, Noah!” she screams.

Her cunt clamps down around my fingers.

“I’m coming. Oh fuck!” she swears, her arched back driving her tits up. I grab one with my free hand. Then she curls around me as I tame my attention on her clit until she relaxes onto the mattress, weak and spent.

I smile, wiping the sweetness of her orgasm from my mouth as I press my lips against her belly. I kiss and bite—no fangs—my way up her body, relishing the taste of her skin on my tongue. I linger at her breasts, sucking on her nipples, biting, but I don’t feed from her. I luxuriate in the knowledge that this woman is giving herself to me freely, knowing everything she knows, having seen what she’s seen.

“Feed,” she begs, tilting her head to give me room when I reach her collarbone, trailing kisses to her neck.

“I’m afraid,” I whisper against her skin.

“Why?”

I test her sinew with my teeth, my fangs extending of their own volition but not breaking her skin.

“You make me wild, ta’ari . I’m afraid I won’t hold back.” My cock presses against the malleable softness of her sex. I lightly thrust, my head sliding past her defenses.

She gasps, her hands biting into the skin of my lower back. “Please, Noah. I want all of you. I want you to take all of me.”

I groan, pressing into her further, torturing myself as a means of punishment and also needing this to last because soon she’ll leave me. I’ll see to it. Her greedy cunt takes me in, tightening as if she wants to keep me there, as if I was made for her.

“Ruin me for anyone else,” she whispers.

The monster inside me snaps awake, and I slam all the way into her, pelvis to pelvis. I bite down on that space between her neck and shoulder, marking her as mine, ruining me just as I ruin her.

A pained gasp leaves her, but it’s followed by a rock of her hips and a quick, “Don’t stop.”

Her blood wells in my mouth. The taste is a sweet companion to the way she smells, slightly different than before. More, somehow. The fullness of the flavor is even more addicting. I thirst like I’ve never thirsted before. As I move inside her—a man deranged and feral with need—I swallow, suck, groan and grunt as I fuck her, needing her, needing more. I take and take, sipping the wine she’s giving me. I’m drunk on it, addicted to the sound of her bliss.

My hand snakes between our bodies, thumbing her clit, wanting her to feel as much pleasure as I do right now.

She cries out. “Yes! More!”

Her nails dig into my back. It's a distant pain that brings me absolute pleasure. I bite harder, fuck rougher. And she meets me thrust for thrust, her legs interlocked with my thighs giving her leverage, like she can’t get me close enough, like she wants to lock us together forever.

I lose myself in her. In her sounds, in her touch, in the grip of her pussy around my cock, in the taste of her blood on my tongue. My need for her is insatiable. It builds and builds.

“Oh!” A feral sound rips from her throat and her back arches as her sex tightens with her orgasm, pulsing, squeezing the life out of me.

“Fuck,” I shout, slamming home, losing any sense of rhythm, the sound of our skin smacking together the only testament to a sense of order as my own orgasm hits me with a force unlike any I’ve experienced before.

Spent, I collapse, rolling us to our sides so I don’t crush her, holding her close as the pound of my hearts slow.

Her body relaxes, her bones pliable as she gives me a dreamy, half-glazed look of contentment.

I lurch up. “Oh. Oh.” I grab her face between my palms, my elbows planted on either side of her head. “ Ta’ari ! Talk to me! Are you okay? Did I take too much? Please.” I kiss her cheek. “Please be okay.”

She grins. “I’m more than okay.” Her palm cups my cheek and soft lips brush against mine. “Thank you, Noah. Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for holding back.” Her smile turns a little devious. “At least, with your venom.”

With a sigh of relief as my hearts find a more solid rhythm, I lean down and kiss her, grateful she’s not hurt because I fed. I feel… perfect. Emotion I don’t recognize rushes through me, and I shiver.

“Are you cold?” She cuddles closer.

I shake my head and say, “Let me take care of you.” After I get a damp rag and clean her, she gets out of bed and gathers her dress from the floor, still wearing a giddy grin.

As she slides her arms into her dress, I come up behind her and take her hands in mine, stopping her before she can do up the buttons. “What are you doing?”

She leans against me. “We need to get back to work.”

I want to pull her back into bed so she can sleep in my arms, but I know she won’t rest until she finds something. She’s already wiggling away from me, buttoning her dress as she disappears through the doorway into the hall heading back to the library.

I can feel her pulling away, and I’m suddenly afraid she’s putting up a wall, even though I know that’s probably best. She has to leave me.

I tug on my pants, buttoning them as I follow her. When I round the corner into the library, I stop short, watching her bend over the table looking for the book my father moved with his tantrum. She hasn’t buttoned her dress all the way, allowing me to see the swell of her breast and her bare leg, the skirt of the dress caught in her limbs. Her dark hair is a beautiful mess, and I imagine bending her over the table, and plunging into her again. But I don’t. Wary. Afraid she might reject me now that the moment has past and knowing I would deserve it.

Instead, when I notice she’s pulled the translation glasses from the pile, I say, “Let me.”

She looks up, eyes as big as moons behind the frames. “What?”

I notice my bite on her neck, the marks of my fangs and the small red stain around it. I should feel bad, but what I feel is an overwhelming sense of pride. And a desire to mark her again.

I close the distance between us and tentatively lean in. “Let me read it to you.” I take the journal from her as I kiss my mark on her neck.

She watches me, then glances at the lab. “What about your samples?”

I look over my shoulder. “I’ve been searching for years and haven’t found anything. I don’t think the answer is there.” Truthfully, I can’t bring myself to be away from her. Not tonight.

I offer her my hand, and she lets me guide her to the couch and pull her down next to me. She curls her legs underneath her, leaning into my side with her head on my shoulder so she can see the book, even though we both know she can’t read it without the glasses.

Contentment hits me in the chest at her willingness to be near me. My hearts constrict with satisfaction and gratitude.

My eyes slide to hers, then down at the journal. We read about my grandmother’s recipe for what she identifies as my grandfather’s favorite Mavarri dish, and for the first time I can see what Ruby was talking about. I can feel the love written into the silence between the words. It’s clear Ruby is right, my grandmother loved my grandfather, and it’s curious to me that I never would have seen it without Ruby’s observation.

She shifts, her head lulling farther down my chest, and I realize she’s fallen asleep. Carefully, I scoop her into my arms and carry her back to her bed in the parlor. Her mussed hair fans out across the pillow. Her skin glows with vitality, as if our love making has given her as much strength and nutrients as her blood has given me.

As I brush the hair out of her face, I recall her words about my grandmother: the treasure is rarely in the actual words, but in what we can read between the words, between the lines. It makes me smile. I wonder what she would read between the lines I write with my actions now, toward her. I run my fingers through her hair, content to touch her, to linger, as I allow myself to admit what I think I’ve known for quite awhile.

I’m in love with Professor Ruby Rose.

I don’t deserve her. I doubt she will ever share my feelings. Not after everything I’ve done. She said this was only for tonight, after all. She may be attracted to me, may seek distraction in my arms, but she isn’t the kind of woman who would love a man like me. I’m not sure any woman could love me once they know what I am, what I’ve done.

But a quiet voice inside me whispers: what if ? She sought her pleasure with me and offered her blood in return. She asked me to ruin her for another. Why would she offer such gifts if she didn’t have feelings?

I want to climb in bed and hold her through the night, but I’m not sure that’s what she wants. We may have sought comfort with each other tonight, but it doesn’t mean I can presume she wants more.

Careful not to wake her, I go back to the library and get the journal we were reading, then sit down in the hall outside her door to continue her research as I keep watch.