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the rounded curve of her belly. No finesse and she wanted none. Just primitive possession.
"Mine," he growled, his fingers tangling in the fine threads of the gold chain he'd locked
around her waist, plucking at the links until they tugged at the bells that stabbed the very core
of her.
The bells were a lush fullness, sliding slickly through the swollen, wet folds of her sex. A
teasing weight. Smooth and heated by her own skin. A caress she was aware of every moment
of the day. Heqet, he might as well have branded her. She couldn't escape from the memories
of his arms, his lips, his touch. Now he plucked at the very core of her.
Worse yet, she didn't want to escape.
She loved him, the bastard.
A sharp tug of the chain sent bells jolting upward, blazing an electric path of sensation
through her sex. The bells stabbed at her clitoris and she gasped. Flashes of electric light
exploded behind her closed lids. "Mine," he said again.
Yeah, she got that.
This worked both ways. If he had taken her, well, she had taken him. Clearly, he needed a
reminder. She wrapped both hands around his heavy sex. "And this is mine. We're perfectly
clear. So get on with it."
Much to her satisfaction, he did. And as he stroked her to shuddering orgasm, she wasn't
entirely sure whether it was man or Cat who claimed her.
Had he hurt her? Locked deep inside him, the Cat protested. The Cat certainly hadn't intended
to hurt the female Jafar was cradling in his arms. No. The Cat adored that female. Only
wanted to be close, close, close.
It didn't matter. He had no right to do this to her.
He knew better than to take any female when the transformation threatened him. Pulling out
of her soft body, he examined her face for signs of distress.
Her eyelids fluttered and she stared up at him.
"Your Cat came out," she said quietly.
He stilled, waiting for the anger. The disgust.
"He's as playful as you," she said, to his surprise. Then she smiled and he thought he would
fall over from the shock of it. "And I think he likes me."
He knew his Cat did.
"Let me go to Shympolsk for you, lover," he said, settling back into their old argument. At
least that argument was familiar ground. He knew what her objections were there. "Let me
look after this one thing for you."
She was shaking her head before he'd finished. And then she stood his world on its head with
one simple question.
"Are you crazy?" She swatted away the warm hand that feathered erotic patterns over her
shoulders and the upward slope of her breasts. "No. We're partners. We settled that."
Jafar lay spooned behind her, his large body curled around hers.
"Let me be close to you," he whispered, and she was lost.
The moment was ineffably sweet, a bright blossom in the very dark air of the room, a
softening of the edge of bright fear that she kept carefully tucked away. The fear that she
would not escape from Lierr. Wrapped in a cocoon of night dark and Guardian mazhyk, she
heard only the soft slide of fabric and the shifting of their bodies.
He lay on his side behind her, lifting her to her side and wrapping himself around her. His
thick erection stroked gently at the tight seam of her thighs for long minutes. Just the velvety
soft tip of his penis stroked deliciously, as the lazy excitement built. Cream slipped from her
body.
He parted her thighs with his knee. The broad head of his erection separated the lips of her
sex, sliding into her body slowly. Filling and stretching her.
"You feel so good," she whispered. "Move now."
And he did. Long, slow, luscious strokes that seemed to suggest they had all the time in the
world. "Like this?" He stroked deeply into her, pulling back with a delicious friction that
made her want to grab his body and pull it back to hers. Hard.
Instead of answering, she reached down to cup the heavy weight of his testicles, savoring the
heat of them. The position was awkward but rewarding. She stroked the tender skin stretched
between his balls and his perineum. He was taut with excitement. He was beautiful.
He reached around to pet her clitoris, tugging gently. They came together in long, slow
shudders. This time, he was silent and the sex was slow and sweet and close. It was as if she
were becoming one being with this Cat lover, she realized, and she could only hope that her
instincts had not been misguided.
Chapter Twenty-One
Miu settled herself at a table in the tea garden just before midnight. Jafar had objected
strenuously to the idea that she was to be the distraction that would keep Lierr from noticing
his own presence, but, as she'd pointed out, there really wasn't much choice. The thief master
was unlikely to hand over her sister unless he saw both Miu and the necklace.
The seconds seemed to tick by with agonizing slowness as she waited. And then, across the
garden, she spotted him. Dark, ageless, and uncannily good-looking, Lierr stepped closer,
moving into the circle of light cast by the candle on her table.
"Why, Miu," he said softly, "I almost think you're not pleased to see me."
"Your damn necklace just about got me killed," she complained. Not to mention mated. For
life. With a Guardian.
"I never promised easy," he said lightly, and she gave in to the urge to look up. She hated
speaking to Lierr's chest. She'd forgotten just how large he really was.
"This makes us quits," she warned. She wasn't handing anything over until he agreed again
to the terms of their contract. As far as she knew, she was the first thief in a decade to
complete the terms of her contract. She wasn't letting him suck her into another hundred thefts
because she was too stupid to close all the loopholes before she handed over the goods. It
would be just like Lierr to figure out some clever way of binding her to him right after he
released her.
She narrowed her eyes.
Lierr had controlled her through the markings on her forearm. Somehow, he'd been able to
send unimaginable pain as well as just discomfort, so nice to know he had a sliding scale
to whatever portion of her anatomy he'd decided to assault. That particular hold he had over
her was going to break. Now.
"Remove the mark," she ordered, knowing he would expect that to be her first demand, "and
then I'll hand over your necklace and be on my way. You can play dress-up with it on your
own time."
He smiled softly and she really, really disliked the sympathetic look he shot her. "I do need
you to hand over the necklace, Miu, but that's not all I'm going to need."
"Take off the mark," she repeated. "And then let me see my sister."
"You opened a Doorway." He shrugged lazily. "Yes, I know about your mysterious arrival in
Shympolsk. I have eyes everywhere in the city. And besides, how else could you have
traveled here from the Valley in so little time?"
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