The Leopard King

  “Unless you say no. I’ll always respect that.” But his voice sounded rough and low, like it was hard for him to speak the words. Given the fierce burn of his eyes, he’d hate that decision.

  So would she. If she believed what he said about being important, even if she wasn’t useful, then she could be allowed to make impulsive, irresponsible choices occasionally. It wouldn’t kill Princess Thalia to talk to someone else for a while, and Pru wanted to work off the adrenaline in her blood after the battle. No, she amended. Better to be honest with myself, at least. I want to love my mate.

  “I’m sure they’ll be fine for an hour,” she said.

  When he smiled, he had never looked more beautiful to her. “Or four.”

  “Mmm.” Pru shivered as he nibbled a path from her ear to her collarbone, paying tribute as if she were a queen deserving of such grace. Goose bumps prickled her skin, and her nipples pebbled beneath the rough drape of the blanket, just from Dom’s mouth on her neck.

  “Wait for me,” he ordered.

  Then he got up, and the cold where he had been made her teeth chatter. Soon he came back with more blankets that had been protected in their cupboards, and Dom shook them out with an impatient snap, then he layered the softest ones inside. When he came down to her, she pulled all of the covers up, and then it was delicious heat and the smoothness of his warming skin gliding against hers. She wanted him so much that she ached with it, and she couldn’t sort out who was feeling what. Mating frenzy. Her whole body throbbed in response.

  “I’m waiting.”

  “Best news I’ve had in ages.”

  Pru was already hot enough to get straight down to it, but Dom rolled to his side, carrying her with him. He touched her only with his lips, and in the cocooning dark, he took hers again and again, until she moaned into his mouth and urged him closer with a hand on his back. That made him gasp in turn, so she used her nails, remembering how sensitive he was. He jerked with each rake of her fingers as if she were actually pulling on his cock. But no, it pushed at her belly, hot and hard, and leaking on her skin. If he wants to kiss, let’s kiss. They did, until her tongue tingled and her mouth felt swollen.

  “Please.”

  “What?”

  “Anything.”

  His soft laughter vibrated against her shoulder. “At the retreat, I noticed how pretty your tits are, and then I felt like shit.”

  “How about now?” Worry permeated her lust a little, just enough to take the edge off.

  “I still think they’re gorgeous. And I only feel bad that I haven’t fucked them.”

  A little whimper escaped her. “You can. If you want. But I’m not really sure—”

  “I don’t need instructions, kitten. Only permission.”

  She sank back and opened her arms. “You always have that.”

  It took more positioning than she expected, but it was surprisingly sexy to let him arrange her to his liking. Once that was done, he knelt over her. “Squeeze them together for me. Play with your nipples. This has to feel good for you too.”

  At first, she felt self-conscious, but his avid eyes persuaded her. Soft sounds turned throaty when he slid his cock between her breasts, dizzying her with his delicious smell. For a few seconds, he held still. More pre-come leaked, but it wasn’t quite enough, so as he pulled back, she reached between her thighs and stroked. I’m so wet.

  She lingered on her lips, her clit, yielding to the impulse to hump her hand a little. Watching made him crazy; she could tell by the deep, rasping breaths, and the way his hips jerked. She brought her hand up, again and again, stroking between her breasts, until her skin was slick and glistening. Dom thrust once, and as her fingers grazed his cock, Dom let out a growl so deep that she trembled.

  “How’s that?”

  “Filthy. Perfect. Tell me if you don’t like it.”

  “Impossible,” she breathed.

  He moved, slow at first, watching her face. Heat flooded her cheeks on the first stroke, and Pru realized she was responsible for the level of pressure, of friction. Holding her breasts, she studied his expression in turn, learning what he liked. His lips parted slightly when she massaged herself against him, and when she lifted so she could lick the tip of his cock on the upstroke, he threw his head back and went faster.

  “You’re going to make me come,” he panted.

  “Like this?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  “Then stop.” Half-teasing, she pushed him away, and she was astonished when he fell back. No matter how far gone he was, he always, always heard her, and that lit her up as nothing else could have.

  “You’re vicious,” he complained.

  “Let’s see if you’re still saying that in five minutes.”

  Pru devoured him with her eyes. He looked healthier since they’d come back, still lean, and he’d regained some of the muscle he’d lost. With appreciative hands, she touched his arms, chest, shoulders. When her palms reached his abdomen, Dom’s lashes fluttered, and his surge of pleasure zinged through her, kindling in her clit. Astonished by how keen and clear the feedback was, she stroked him again and again, and each time—

  “Are you trying to drive me insane?” he got out.

  “You feel that?”

  “Of course, sharper each time.” He had a hard time speaking. “I’m getting lightheaded, to be honest, with so much blood rushing away from my brain.”

  On her orders, he rolled onto his stomach, though her amusement turned breathless when she realized how tough it was for him to get comfortable. Then she made it worse by peppering kisses down his spine, his ever-so-sensitive spine. Hands and lips, teeth and tongue, she nuzzled every inch of his back, until he was practically humping the pile of blankets.

  “Not vicious. Merciless.”

  Pru parted his thighs and licked in between, her own arousal heightening as his spiked. Her mouth grazed the back of his testicles, just another tease, not the satisfaction they both craved. Yet he still lifted his hips, letting her do whatever she wished. She couldn’t quite reach, and it was all wet, messy torment as she nuzzled her face against him, and he rocked back and forth, driven by her mouth and his need. His breath became one long groan, and soon, he was humping the blankets as if he might come. Truthfully, she was two brisk strokes from an insane orgasm, just from feeling his reaction, and if he was getting hers too—

  “Fuck me,” she whispered.

  Yes. Thank you. Finally.

  With absolute urgency, Dom grabbed his mate and pulled her onto his lap. She sank down on him, and her heat, her wetness, sent a sweet shock shuddering through his body. He couldn’t get close enough to her, despite being inside her. He didn’t question the incredible yearning, only held her closer and closer still. When her arms went around his shoulders, it was like he could breathe again.

  Yes, hang on.

  As the pleasure mounted to impossible levels, his head went even fuzzier. Her delight surged through him again and again, rebounding with each stroke, until it was like his mind split, and he could feel not only how good she felt to him, but also the slick, hard rub of his own cock. The sensation was so ferocious that for one long, maddening moment, he was both of them, together, separate, together, spiraling, breathing, coming, and her orgasm shivered through him a heartbeat before his own.

  Too much.

  Dom had no idea how much later it was, but they were still curled together, and she looked as shocked as he felt. Weakly, he stroked her hair, still trembling, so it couldn’t have been that long. Never blacked out after sex before.

  “What was that?” she whispered.

  “A spectacular cementing of the mate bond.”

  It hadn’t been like that with Dalena, not that he should talk about it with Pru—or maybe he should—so hard to know what would hurt her and where the lines should be drawn. God, it feels like I haven’t eaten in a week.

  She rested her cheek against his chest, and he knew without being told that she was silently savoring each thu
mp of his heart. Like I’m a fucking gift and she ought to write a thank-you note. But it was impossible not to be touched too.

  “Does that mean we’ll be able to communicate telepathically now?”

  Amused, Dom cocked a brow at her. “Do you know anyone who can?”

  “My parents used to claim they could, but I’m guessing they were just messing with me, huh?” Adorably, she looked disappointed.

  I could spend quite a lot of time, happily, trying to kiss each and every freckle. In this light, she was so sweet and gorgeous and his that he was tempted to go for round two. But that might literally kill him, and Magda would probably obliterate the whole building if they didn’t turn up soon. Between the security chief and Slay, they could only make excuses for so long. In retrospect, maybe he should’ve shown a little more self-control.

  Or not.

  He kissed Pru and said, “Let’s test it out.”

  Quasi-serious, he set his brow against hers and thought, You are amazing. I will spend the rest of my life treasuring you.

  With a cant of her head, she tried, “You’re hungry?”

  “No. Not even close.”

  “But you are amused.”

  “Right now? Highly.” It was so like her to want to experiment with mind-speak when they were both naked and had just fucked so hard that he’d passed out.

  “So it’s probably limited emotions,” she mused. “How am I feeling right now?”

  “Like you swallowed a ball of sunshine.” Though his tone was facetious, it wasn’t an inaccurate description. She radiated joy that suffused him until his whole body glowed with it.

  “Correct.”

  “Does that mean I’m your sunshine?” he asked, smiling.

  With a solemn nod, she avowed, “My only sunshine.”

  “I make you happy when skies are gray?” This was an ancient children’s song; Dom was just teasing, and he couldn’t remember the rest anyway.

  So he didn’t expect her to jolt away from him so abruptly or scramble for her clothes, muttering, “Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her words tumbled out in a panicked rush, muffled by the shirt she was pulling over her head. “Eamon. I forgot about Eamon. He might be injured, pinned by wreckage, or out of food. There should be water in the tap at least. Shit, why am I such an idiot? He wouldn’t come out when things were fine, and now—”

  “Shit,” Dom snarled.

  She was right. Even if rescue workers tried, he’d probably barricade himself in his apartment rather than open for strangers like Raff’s wolves. If he was sure about anything, it was that Eamon would rather starve than be taken alive. Now as worried as Pru, he threw on his trousers and tunic, and they dashed for the door together. Yet he couldn’t let her carry the blame alone, for he should’ve remembered too.

  “He has to be okay.” She repeated this as a litany as he led the way to Eamon’s apartment upstairs.

  Damn, we were even in the building.

  When they arrived, the door was still on its hinges, at least. More than could be said for many of its neighbors. That probably had to do with all of Eamon’s locks and reinforcements. Dom rapped briskly, the other hand on Pru’s shoulder to steady her. She seemed on the verge of a complete breakdown, and her near panic was messing with his head. Her fear had his heart racing, and he wasn’t even prone to anxiety. Brooding, yes. Anxiety, no.

  After what felt like an eternity, a muffled voice called, “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me,” Pru shouted. “And Dom.”

  “Busy day for me, it seems.” Movement sounded within, and eventually the door cracked enough for Eamon to scrutinize them. “Come in, if you like.”

  It seemed churlish not to when they’d both been so worried. Pru was calming, and her ease settled his nerves. His breathing quieted as they stepped into Eamon’s sanctuary. Compared to other units, the damage wasn’t as bad as it could be. Still, he couldn’t imagine hunkering down like this after the bombs went off.

  “Do you need anything?” Pru asked, taking a visual inventory.

  Eamon shook his head. “For the first few days, I did run low on food, but Joss has been here twice this week with supplies. I’d offer you something, but I understand we’re all on rations, so—”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Dom cut in. “I’m just glad to know you’re safe.”

  Eamon inclined his head with a grave expression. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

  Unexpectedly, Pru dropped to the floor on a shaky burst of laughter. “We are ridiculous.”

  Dom didn’t realize she was speaking directly to him until she grabbed his arm. His brows went up. “We are?”

  “Seriously. Like we’re the only ones who ever do anything in the hold, and if we don’t attend to it personally, everything will crumble. Ridiculous.”

  His wry smile formed slowly, but he could see her point. “We do tend to take sole responsibility for things, don’t we?”

  “It’s a failing,” Pru said, sighing. “In both of us.”

  “I suppose we’re too much alike in that way. We’ll work on it.”

  Eamon glanced between them with a faint smile, but his response was mild. “I did tell you I have other friends.”

  “I’m relieved. As long as Joss is checking in, I’ll stop thinking I’m so irreplaceable.”

  “That would be a mistake. Just because Joss brings me a box of staples and sings while I paint, that doesn’t mean I never want to see your face.”

  Dom restrained a growl at how happy that comment made Pru. If her happiness hadn’t filled him up like a fizzy drink, the blush in her freckled cheeks would’ve given it away. Plus, he hadn’t even known that Eamon was an artist, so he focused on that. “Would you let us hang some of your work in the admin center once we finish the repairs?”

  Elbowing him, Pru whispered, “He never shows me anything, don’t be rude.”

  To his mate’s evident astonishment, the other man nodded. “When the work is done, ask again. I’ll have a piece ready for you.”

  “I can’t wait.” Pru seemed as if she’d like to rush at the painter and hug him in a fit of enthusiasm, but Eamon might as well have posted DO NOT TOUCH THE ARTIST signs. In this hideaway, it was quiet, giving no sign of the chaos in the wider world.

  “Joss told me we’re up against the Golgoth. I wish I could fight them,” Eamon said.

  “Nobody expects you to.” Dom meant his words to be comforting, but it was hard to tell if he’d succeeded.

  An ocean of sadness Dom could scarcely cross in a boat flickered in Eamon’s eyes. “That’s exactly why I wish I could.”

  26.

  Pru made herself presentable as soon as possible and accompanied her mate to greet Princess Thalia. Part of her couldn’t stop obsessing over exactly why Dom had dragged her off, another part glowed endlessly over the sweet things he’d said followed by amazing sex, and the rest knew she had to focus because with Lord Talfayen dead, if they didn’t secure an alliance with Princess Thalia, relations with the Eldritch could break down completely.

  Magda had the situation under control, fortunately. She’d quickly gotten the park decorated and set up portable heaters. With the band playing in the pergola and a sky full of stars overhead, the disorder of the reconstruction effort became charming rather than chaotic. Certainly the princess seemed to be having a good time when Pru made her bow beside Dom.

  “Our apologies for the delay,” she said.

  The princess offered an amused, knowing smile. “No harm done. Though I’ve yet to be swept off like that, I certainly daydream about it.”

  “Who would dare?” Gavriel demanded.

  The royal waved him to silence. “This isn’t the moment to speak of serious matters, and I thank you for welcoming me with such sincerity.”

  “I take it you’re willing to work with us?” Dom asked.

  Thalia nodded. “I’ve had a full report from Gavriel, and I’m sorry our
alliance had such a rocky start. I take full responsibility for the tragic outcome.”

  “The failure is mine,” the Noxblade said.

  Pru couldn’t help but notice the intensity with which he studied the princess, but the intimate workings of their relationship weren’t her business. “This is likely to be the eye of the storm, so we should enjoy it while we can.”

  Thalia nodded. “That wasn’t the majority of the Golgoth army, just an exploratory force. Now that we’ve all gathered at Ash Valley, chances are good that the bulk of the offensive will occur near here.”

  “An excellent analysis,” Dom commended.

  “Are you well situated for a siege?”

  Mentally Pru took stock of the remaining supplies, factored against the influx of fresh bodies. “I don’t think we could hold out long, if they disrupt shipments and highjack supplies.”

  “Do you have an estimate of their numbers?” Magda asked.

  “I’m surprised Prince Alastor hasn’t given you that already,” Thalia said.

  Shit. That reminds me.

  She excused herself with a murmur and searched the crowd for any sign of Sheyla, but parties, even impromptu ones, weren’t the doctor’s thing, especially not when so many people were relying on her. Pru hurried to the med center and found it quiet compared to a week ago, but the staff seemed no less exhausted. Sheyla was visibly thinner, her face drawn and weary, when Pru found her. She has too much to do. I wish I didn’t have to add to her burdens. But unlike Pru, Sheyla had a face that only became more beautiful when she was overworked; somehow she took that air of exhaustion and her pretty face deepened to ethereal beauty.

  “Let me guess,” Sheyla said with a faint sigh. “You’re wondering if I’ve figured anything out for your fragile Golgoth friend.”

  “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask if we weren’t running out of time.”

  And we need him.

  Since the conclave had failed, Prince Alastor represented their only hope at keeping the Golgoth at bay. Surely there must be some who would turn from conquest, given a more rational choice. They couldn’t all follow Tycho with mindless fervor, right? Since Alastor’s entourage comprised all she knew firsthand of his people, maybe she shouldn’t be so quick to judgment.