His hot mouth moved down my cheek, onto my neck, and I gave pounded. He filled his mouth with my flesh, pressed his teeth down with restrained ferocity, growling with his desire to pierce the flesh and taste the sweet blood. But instead of biting me, he sucked hard and released me, laving me with his rough tongue, and dipped down to taste the hollow at the base of my neck.
"Tell me you want me," he said roughly.
"Yes," I cried.
He took my nipple into his mouth, laving the sensitive tip again and again.
"Please, Gryphon." I gasped.
"Yes, say my name." His voice rumbled in a pleasant sensation against my breast. "Tell me you need me."
"I need you now. Please."
He bit down gently on my nipple and I reared up, crying out as he tugged and sucked with leashed savagery, his other hand molding, caressing, squeezing my other breast, his thumb rubbing over the nipple, sending thrilling sensations spearing through me.
"Oh, God. Gryphon… Gryphon!"
"Yes, yes. Say my name," he said hoarsely, his other hand sliding down my stomach to brush through my curls. He parted my folds and slipped a finger into me and I stilled in shock at the wonderful, surprising sensation—such magnificent pleasure—not even daring to breathe as he stroked gently in and out.
"You're so tight. Relax, yes. Let me…" He slid a second finger into me and I quivered uncontrollably and whimpered, my lashes fluttering shut. He stroked and soothed me with his other hand as he pushed in past the second knuckle, then further.
"Yes, that's it," he crooned. "How beautiful, how sweet you are. More than I ever dreamed." He stretched me wide with his fingers then slid out. His weight lifted, and my eyes flew open with a cry of protest that stopped as he stood and pulled me forward until my hips hung over the edge of the bed, lifting my legs over his shoulders. His cheeks were slashed with color and his dark eyes glittered like blue diamonds. With his eyes locked on mine, he guided himself into me, filling me slowly as my eyes widened at the incredible feel of him, at the supreme agony of being stretched by him.
"Oh." I breathed at the breathtaking miracle of wet pleasure instead of dry pain.
"You're so hot. So hot." He panted. "Yes, like that. Take me. Am I hurting you? "
"No. Your wound… "
"I'm fine." He groaned and thrust in all the way. "Fine," and started to move.
"Yes." I moaned and held myself still for fear of aggravating his wound, of hurting him while he devastatingly destroyed me with his deeply measured strokes. I watched him, drank him in, the sight of him, the feel of him—the sweet agony of pleasure clenching his face, the Tightness of his body sliding into mine, letting him control it all while I took him and held him tightly within.
He began to move faster, muscles rippling, straining, as he thrust deeper, more forcefully, destroying me, tearing me apart with such frightening pleasure. I felt myself tighten even more, moving toward something that grew and grew in power. And when I thought he could not be more savagely beautiful, he began to glow. We began to glow, a light that started at our joining and spread up our entire bodies, filling us with an incandescent glory that made his skin translucent and limed his mink-black hair with a halo of light, lighting him with a terrible beauty that brought tears of agony and joy to my eyes. Yes, came the thought. This is what we were meant to be, and that power swept over me, flooded me, tore me apart, and rebuilt me even stronger. I convulsed, pulsing and pulsing and pulsing. Blindly above me, I heard Gryphon cry out, "Mona Lisa… mine!" and then he was pumping hotly inside me, groaning sorely, dearly, as he filled me with his seed.
Chapter Three
The gentle fingers of the moon caressed Gryphon with loving care as he lay beside me, asleep, a creature so beautiful that he stopped my breath, his lovely perfection so unreal I would have doubted its true existence were I not touching him, my leg entwined with his. His arm was flung over me, chaining me to him in sleep, desiring as I desired, that skin-to-skin contact.
He was cool to the touch, cooler than I, and I didn't know if that was his normal condition or a result of the poison within him. He had seemed better than in the hospital, more rested, his strength quite evident in the soreness I now felt in my thighs, between my legs. But his trembling, in the end, had been equal parts passion and exhaustion and he had fallen deeply asleep immediately afterward. I let him sleep, knowing it was the best therapy for him, content to lie there beside him, secure in his arms, and to listen to the soft soughing of his breath and the slow beating of his heart.
It was frightening. No, terrifying, in truth, the fierce possessiveness I now felt for him. I needed this quiet period of companioned solitude to absorb the changes and revelations he had wrought with his entry into my life.
He stirred several hours later, making the transition from sleep to total awareness with one blink of his piercing eyes. His arm tightened around me, then relaxed. "I didn't dream you, did I?" he asked, pulling me closer.
"No." I breathed my soft confirmation against his shoulder where my head nestled, my heart settled and happy once more inhaled the essence of him. "You smell so good."
I felt him smile against me. "What do I smell like?"
"Like the night, the soaring wind, the verdant fields below… and of feathers." I lifted up to gaze down at him. "Why do you have soft down at the base of your neck?"
"My other form is a falcon."
"Your other form?" I tasted the strange phrase slowly, unable to prevent my voice from rising to a squeak. "You mean you can become a bird?"
Gryphon nodded, smiling as if I had amused him.
Gryphon. Gyrfalcon. A fierce bird of prey.
I could see it now in some of his features—his sharp, piercing eyes, the strong hooked blade of his nose, the wide shoulders, the long, slender fingers. Would they become talons? I wondered.
"What is your other form?" he asked.
I shook my head, dazed. Was that what it was, that wild thing caged within me that I suppressed? "I don't know."
"Do not worry. You are young. It will probably come to you later, although not all Monère possess the ability to transform into another creature." He frowned and reached up to smooth back my hair with a gentle touch. "Exactly how old are you?"
"Twenty-one years old. When did you attain your other form?"
"When I reached puberty at eighteen. But you are a Mixed Blood. Part human. It may come later for you."
"Do you know that for certain?"
He hesitated. "No. You are an entirely new entity."
"What other forms have Mixed Bloods attained?"
"None of them have had other forms, as far as I know."
"Bummer," I said with relief. I did not wish to have another form. Not if it meant unleashing that scary, restless force that had prowled within me since puberty.