Tied With a Bow

me where Malachi’s concerned,” she informed him, her heart heavy. “Because I won’t hear them. Whoever is attempting to destroy these negotiations would destroy me, Malachi and my family without a thought. I don’t want to hear anything else they have to say.”
    She had made a choice and Isabelle knew it. In that moment she’d chosen Malachi over suspicion, rumor or hints of wrongdoing whether they were real or imagined.
    She had chosen him over everyone else in her life.
    She may not know every act he had committed or every experience he had ever known, but she knew the soul of the man she had given her heart to. And she knew that soul was one that deserved her love.
    That soul was the mate to hers.

Chapter Eight
     
    Your lips touched mine.
     
    He couldn’t bear to feel her pain.
    As the room emptied and the door snicked closed quietly behind Rule, Malachi turned his mate to his chest and held her there.
    For the first time in his life he didn’t just sense the pain, or scent it. He could feel it with every fiber of his being. It wrapped around his heart, his soul, and squeezed with a merciless grip.
    “What’s going on?” she whispered against his chest as she felt his hands smoothing down the silken material of her dress to her hips and back to just below her shoulders. There, his fingers tangled in the long waves of her hair, twisting them around to pull her head back.
    “I don’t know what’s going on, baby,” he told her, keeping his voice low, the pain emanating from her still too strong for his comfort.
    It made the animal inside him rage, desperate to take the pain away and replace it with something more. Something more intimate. Something that would resonate with pleasure rather than pain.
    Lowering his head, he let his lips settle over hers. Gently. The glands beneath his tongue were swelling in response to the emotions rising inside him, just as they had since the moment he had laid eyes on her.
    Flicking his tongue against her lips, parting them, he let his lips fuse with hers before parting them farther and finding her tongue with his.
    As though the taste of the mating heat was as much an addiction for her as the taste of her kiss was becoming for him, she immediately drew the taste of him into her. For lush, impossibly ecstatic seconds her lips captured his tongue and drew the heat from it.
    Pulling back from her, his lips slanted over hers, rubbed against them, parted them with his, and they shared the taste. Mating heat fused them together, but Malachi knew where the heat came from: from the hearts of two souls that had searched the night.
    Pulling the dress from her, he could only groan in anticipation and rising hunger as she released his pants.
    There were no boots to take off this time—he’d met his visitors in bare feet, just as she had. It took only seconds to strip the pants from his legs and lift her to him, but the bed wasn’t an option. As he palmed her breasts and took her kiss again, his thumbs flicked at her pebble hard nipples, rasping over them as he backed her the few feet to the couch and felt the primal instincts that rose inside him crashing through his control.
    She was his mate. The need to take her, to mark her, to indelibly imprint himself on her was tearing through his senses like wildfire.
    Though she had stood beside him and defended the accusations brought against him earlier, still, there had been an instinctive hesitation. The need of the daughter to give in to the father, to obey and accept the protection she had known all her life.
    That hesitancy had terrified him. For the briefest second Malachi had felt pure, gut-wrenching fear, certain he would have to fight for her and chance destroying them both in the effort.
    That streak of pride and independence had held her to him, for the moment. Now, God help him, the animal inside him was tearing loose now and asserting its determination to tie her irrevocably to him.
    “Malachi,” she whispered on a desperate sigh, her nails biting into his bare shoulders as he backed her to the couch before allowing his lips to trail to the sensitive column of her neck.
    The ripple of response raced up her spine, sending the scent of summer heat to fill his senses. The smell of her passion, her sweet, soft, feminine lust, was the most intoxicating scent. He could live on it. He could survive the rest of his life with no other scent in his head.
    The growl that rumbled in his chest surprised him. It was more