The Sacrifice

So step up I did.

Within five days, I had become Lenore's unofficial guard, something we both tried to act indifferent about, if not outright hostile.

I sneered at her.

She snapped at me.

But as soon as we broke into the woods on her nearly daily walks, I was slamming her back against a tree, my lips crashing down on hers.

We explored with hands, with mouths, but things hadn't progressed beyond what we'd already done yet. Partly because of paranoia about being caught, and partly because of my reticence to go there.

I wasn't a soft man.

I didn't do flowers and candy and sweetness.

Yet I found myself wishing they were things I was capable of because some part of me believed she wanted that, she was due that.

I didn't think of sex as special.

It was a function of the bodies.

It was a fun way to spend some time.

But I'd been on this plane, around the humans, long enough to know that first times often were considered something special, something memorable.

I didn't pretend to understand my compulsion to have it be that way for Lenore, but it was there, it was a factor, and so a rushed quickie against a tree limb just didn't exactly feel right.

That said, the need to be inside her was like a flame inside that refused to be extinguished. Each passing day, it got stronger and stronger.

Even as Ace perfected his plans, as he got closer to being sure, being ready to approach Lenore with what would change her life forever.

And I was too chickenshit to tell her, to explain to her what was about to happen, how it might change things, and how it would likely impact what she and I had going.

"Where are we going?" she asked as her foot caught in some underbrush, making her hand shoot out to grab my arm.

She didn't pull it away even when she righted herself.

And I didn't shrug it off either.

There was something right in the feeling of us touching. It was straight out of some sappy fucking romance, but it felt wilder, more primal, like there was something deep within me that responded to her. Not a soul, of course, seeing as I didn't have one. But a softness I didn't know existed, a protectiveness I never would have thought I was capable of.

Mine mine mine that little voice inside me said, only it was getting louder and louder, harder and harder to ignore.

I didn't grasp it on a rational level, but that was what she was.

Mine.

And I wanted her to be mine in every way she could be.

Which was where we were going.

To something I'd gotten up at dawn to prepare.

Something special.

Something memorable.

I knew she was ready.

When it came to putting a stop to things before they went too far, I'd been the one laying on the brakes, having to untangle myself from her as she tried to tell me she was ready, she wanted it, she wanted me.

I didn't realize how much self-control I had until I'd turned her down day after day, night after night when she crept into my room, curled into my body, climbed on top of it, whispering the wicked shit I'd—in recurring bouts of masochism—taught her to say.

Luckily enough, after two or three good orgasms, her mind—along with her body—turned to mush, giving me a chance to rein in my own need to finally be inside her.

It would all be worth it, though, I reminded myself as we followed the trickling creek until I saw our destination.

A massive, ancient Weeping Willow tree, growing close to the water as they often liked to do. Spread beneath was a pile of thick blankets, softening the hard ground, a picnic basket, and a bunch of flowers I'd gathered on my walk in.

"Oh." The breath rushed out of Lenore as she pulled to a stop, taking in the scene, seeming to understand the significance as she turned to me, smile sweet, eyes soft. "Yes, finally," she said, reaching up to grab the sides of my face, drawing me down, pressing her lips to mine.

"You're sure?" I asked, pulling back slightly.

"Absolutely."

Thank fuck.Chapter FifteenLenoreHe'd set a scene.

I'd practically been begging him for days, my ego getting bruised each time he brushed off my desire to have him inside me. I knew he wanted me too, so I couldn't fathom what was making him pull away, push me away, tell me it wasn't right yet.

Because he wanted to set a scene.

He wanted to pick a spot he knew I would like, make it comfortable, get us completely alone so no one could interrupt.

He wanted it to be right.

It was unexpectedly sweet from a man who was not really a man at all, who wasn't, by nature, kind.

He was being kind for me.

My heart skittered in my chest at that, a new occurrence I often felt when he was nearby. It was often accompanied by this strange pulling sensation in my chest toward Lycus.