Children of the Moon 04 - Dragon's Moon

her body.
    He shook his head, his expression turning more feral than she’d yet seen it. “Take your clothes off,” he demanded in a guttural voice.
    She nodded, once again ignoring that tiny voice that tried to tell her she was swimming in waters too deep. He’d brought the waters with him and they would not recede unless he took them away again.
    She undid the pins holding the small shawl over her shoulders first. Why it should feel so very revealing to remove a garment that actually covered cloth, not skin, she did not know, but in that moment she felt truly defenseless.
    His look of savage desire did not help. And yet if he looked away from her, she would not be able to continue.
    He did not look away and her blouse came next. As she pulled it over her head, for a second, she could not see him and her heart stuttered with atavistic fear.
    “Faolán.” That was all he said, just calling her his little wolf in a tone that wrapped around her desire and breathed flame into it.
    And she was all right, dropping her blouse to the ground. Then she undid the tie on her pleated skirt made to look like a plaid from the Sinclair tartan and let it slide down her hips as well. That left only her shift and her shoes. She knew that even in the moonlight, her shift would do little to maintain her modesty, being of fabric spun very fine and bleached so white it was almost sheer.
    His hands fisted and released at his sides, as if he wanted to touch her but dared not.
    “Eirik?”
    He nodded, as if to himself and strode forward, only to drop to his knees and bend down. He untied her sandals, his fingertips lingering on her ankles, his thumbs brushing the side of her arches. And she felt a curious hitch in her chest looking down at him.
    Her wolf whispered, “Mate,” and her heart whimpered, “Dangerous.” All her mouth could say was a “thank you” so quiet she wondered if he even heard.
    But he inclined his head in welcome. “Step out of them.”
    She did, the only thing left between her and total nakedness, her sleeveless, almost sheer shift.
    Still kneeling before her, he took the hem in his two hands but did not lift. “Now this.”
    It was not a question, but he still did not move to remove her last garment.
    So, she nodded. “Yes.”
    His smile melted a place in her heart that had been frozen so long, she had not even known it existed anymore.
    Pure trust.
    He would not hurt her intentionally. He would protect her to the best of his abilities, even from his own lusts.
    One moment she wore her shift and the next, she did not. Then she stood naked before him in the moonlight, feeling a strange juxtaposition between the coolness of the night air and the heat of his body so close. Her nipples were already hard, but they tightened into turgid peaks that ached deliciously at the dual sensations.
    The flare of his nostrils said he noticed, but how could he not? He was dragon shifter, with senses far superior to human and even other Chrechte.
    He leaned forward and kissed the tips of each, before lowering his head so he could give the same homage to her stomach right below her belly button.
    It did not feel sexual, though they were both naked and he had just put his lips on her breasts. It felt more like a benediction, like an ancient Chrechte rite she knew nothing about.
    And as sacred as the moment felt, she could not stifle the need to go back to touching him. Perhaps because to do so would feel equally blessed.
    He seemed to read her mind, because he stood in a fluid movement, his arousal brushing up her body as he rose to his full six and a half feet.
    Her wolf’s keen senses became aware of a musky scent that he left behind on her skin where his penis had touched and she felt the growl of the wolf’s approval in her chest. Without thought, she reached down and fondled the end of his shaft where it glistened with some kind of wetness. The nearly clear fluid was viscous and gave off a mouthwatering aroma.
    She brought her fingers to her mouth and tasted, the flavor of her dragon bursting on her tongue. Mine, her wolf howled.
    “Do you like it?”
    “Are you supposed to ask that?” she queried, wanting to avoid an answer and knowing she would not be able to.
    Her pleasure in his taste had to be as obvious to him as his lust was to her.
    “We are Chrechte,” he said quietly, but firmly. “We do not hide from our true natures.”
    He might not, but she had spent seven years doing her best to tamp down parts of