Moon Sworn (Riley Jenson Guardian 9)

The only thing that could have made this night more perfect would have been for Rhoan and Liander to perform the ceremony alongside us. But Rhoan was still refusing, and Liander wouldn't push. He understood Rhoan's reasons. We all did, even if we didn't agree with them.

But I wasn't about to spoil this night by dwelling on such matters.

Not when I was about to commit to the man of my dreams.

My pulse was racing and my heart was light, and every now and again the sheer force of it all had my feet breaking into a happy little dance.

High above the treetops, the sky was a blaze of color, and though the moon had yet to crest the horizon, the heat of her was in the air. Her music sang through my veins - a richness that was sweet and intoxicating. The change would come with darkness, but before it did, our promises would be made.

I walked up the rest of the hill. The last of the day's sunlight broke through the trees as I did, warming the clearing ahead and spotlighting the three men who waited there.

Rhoan and Liander stood to one side, their arms entwined and grins as silly as my own on their faces. Quinn stood in the middle, as naked as I was despite what he'd said earlier. And oh, he was beautiful. Simply beautiful.

He smiled as I stopped in front of him, and briefly reached out to caress my cheek. I pressed into his touch and silently said, Do you know all the words?

They have been very firmly drummed into my brain by your brother and his lover, he replied. They made sure no mistakes would be made.

They'd made sure I would make no mistakes, as well, hammering the words into my still somewhat faulty memory banks. Despite Quinn's best efforts, not all the past had been recovered. Some of it would remain forever gone. But the past no longer mattered. The here, the now, and the future did.

Good, I replied softly. I did threaten to cook for them for the next year if things went awry.

His laughter was like quicksilver through my thoughts, bright and shiny. Then he dropped his hand and bowed formally.

I watched him, struggling to contain my joy, struggling to reach the seriousness this ceremony required.

"Does my lover know what night this is?" I said softly.

His eyes shone like black jewels in the dusk, filled with such warmth and love that it threatened to steal my breath and words away.

"It is the night of the full moon," he returned solemnly. "The night of promises."

I stepped forward, pressing my body against his. Feeling in the no-longer-slow beat of his heart an echo of my excitement. Feeling in the rigid heat of his erection the equal of my desire. "The night of destiny."

The air stirred around us, running with slivers of energy that raised the hairs at the nape of my neck.

"You are my heart, my soul," he said, his arms going around my waist and holding me tightly.

"As you are mine," I repeated. The magic in the air got stronger, thrumming through the forest, matching the rhythm of our breathing, matching the beating of our hearts.

"Dance with me, this night and for the rest of our nights," he said. "For as long as the moon shines in the sky and for as long as we live underneath her."

I shifted my stance slightly, readying myself for the more intimate requirements of the ceremony. "In her name, I offer you my body."

Desire and something else - something more ethereal and powerful - swirled around us, warming my heart, tugging at my soul. The heat of him slid inside of me, so deeply that it felt like he was claiming every single inch of me. And lord, it felt good.

"In her power," he said, as he slowly began to rock inside of me, "I offer you my heart."

The energy in the air was becoming fiercer, burning across my skin, making all the little hairs stand up on end.

"In her shadow, I offer you my soul." My words were breathless, almost inaudible, lost to the pleasurable assault on my senses and the thrumming in the air. It didn't matter. The magic in the night heard and acknowledged it.

His hands slid down to my rear, gripping my butt fiercely, holding my body tightly against his as his movements became more urgent.

"Do you accept the gift of my seed?" he growled.

His thrusting was deep and hard and urgent, and the world was spinning, burning, with power, until it felt like there was no separation between any of us, that our flesh, the magic, the moon, and the night were all one being.

"Yes," I gasped. "Do you accept the binding of the moon and the promises we have made on the night?"