Dreams of a Dark Warrior

magister’s woman.” He strode into the water.

FORTY-FOUR

    D eclan edged closer.
    In a way, this was like a military op. Yet never had an objective meant this much to him. And in no plan of attack before had he ever felt this much conflict within himself.
    Stripping in front of her was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Storm a Cerunno nest? Routine. Attack a demon stronghold? Child’s play.
    Putting himself under her scrutiny to risk certain rejection? Grueling.
    He’d somehow held himself still as she’d leisurely inspected every inch of him. For some reason, he didn’t think she was repulsed by the sight of him. God in heaven, maybe even the opposite. When her eyes had flickered, he’d grown hard under her gaze.
    Nothing to lose, Dekko.
If this didn’t work, then at least he’d be freed from one of his vows to the vampire.
    Her slim shoulders tensed as he eased up behind her. Heedless, he reached forward and pulled her hair off her nape. About to kiss the smooth skin above her torque, he leaned in—
    She threw an elbow back, catching him in the mouth. “Don’t you dare!”
    As he’d hoped, that one hit wasn’t enough, was only the shot that set off an avalanche. She whirled around, fist drawn back to pound his cheek.
    He shook it off, swinging around to kiss her neck.
    “Stop that!” She punched his mouth again. He pressed his newly bleeding lip to the other side of her neck.
    “What is
wrong
with you?” Another hit to his face left his jaw singing.
    But he merely rubbed his chin over the tip of her pointed ear. Every time she struck, he responded with a kiss or touch. “Is that supposed to hurt, Valkyrie? You hit like a wee girl.”
    “A wee girl!” she screamed, punching his kidney over and over, backing him toward the shore.
    Never had he been so happy to take a beating. Of course, she wasn’t at full Valkyrie strength, and he was lingering on the very cusp of berserkrage.
    When he tripped backward onto land, she leapt atop him, straddling his waist as she drilled his face like a punching bag.
    Instead of deflecting her hits, he grasped her perfect breasts, groaning from the weight of them in his hands. Soft, damp flesh against his palms. Her nipples were tight points. … With a groan, he rocked his hips up beneath her.
    She knocked his hands away; he let her.
    “You keep ticklin’ me like this, Valkyrie, and I’ll think you want me to tickle back.” Was she even aware they were both naked and she was straddling him? He could feel the heat of her quim against him, slickwarmth in the cool air. “I can do this all night, lass.”
    “You prick!” she yelled between breaths, hammering his sternum. “Maybe I can’t land a painful punch because of all the
drugs
in your system!”
    His gaze bored into hers. “Never will touch them again,” he told her, and he meant it.
    “Or maybe you don’t feel my hits because of all that ugly scar tissue buffering you!” She dragged her claws over the marks.
    Shame filled him. Anger ignited.
She’ll never see past them.
Just as he’d known.
    Then his eyes narrowed with realization. “I might be ugly, Regin, but something’s got your claws curlin’.” She’d seen him completely undressed, and she was still getting aroused. Wanting to roar with triumph, he grew more aggressive, leaning up to brush his lips over one stiff nipple.
    After a heartbeat’s hesitation, she backhanded him away.
    “Slower to defend on that one, no, lass?” He pinned her arms to her sides so he could nuzzle her other nipple. Though she resisted, he took it between his lips, tasting that bud, tonguing it … With a hoarse groan, he began to suckle, his eyes rolling back in his head.
    Had she moaned? His cock pulsed painfully.
    In a siren’s voice, she said, “Chase, let me go. So I can touch
you
.”
    Yes!
Without releasing his suck on her nipple, he slid his hands down to rest on her hips.
    “You want my touch, Blademan?” She reachedback, raking those claws up his thighs, leaving bloody furrows. “That’s all you’ll get from me—pain!”
    He sucked her harder, till her nipple throbbed to the tip of his tongue. Pain? He felt none.
    Gods, Chase’s mouth was so hot on her breast, his lips closed tight around the peak.
    He was thrumming, the muscles of his torso flexing sensuously beneath her. She’d never truly comprehended how big Chase’s body was next to hers.
So like Aidan.
    Yet so different. A Celt with a wicked tongue and a gravelly