She struggled to reconnect her brain. "How… you said… you hunt Daemons in your animal form. Don't people notice lions and cougars and tigers roaming the D.G. suburbs at night?"
With a mixture of relief and hot regret, she felt his thumb lift from her spine. She tensed, waiting for the next place, hoping….
She felt his thumb at the back of one knee and let out a sigh of disappointment.
"We have… talents." His warm breath wafted over her lower back. "What you would call magic. When I hunt in my animal, I can alter my size and shape to fit the landscape,".
"What do you mean?"
He gave a snort that was half amusement. "I prowl D.C. as a tomcat."
"You're kidding."
His hand shifted to the back of her other knee. "It took me years to perfect the ability, but it works. Some of the others do the same. Wulfe can't change his form, so he stays out of the city to hunt."
He released her knees and rose. "Put the towel around you again." His words were sharp, almost harsh, but she knew he was struggling as much as she was. She had no illusions that she was pretty enough to drive a man mad with lust when she was clothed. But a man with his hands on any naked woman was going to want her. That was just the way men were. And this one, shape-shifter or not, was all male.
Lyon strode to the window and stood there staring out, every line of his gorgeous body as taut as a cat ready to spring.
Kara wrapped the towel tight around her as she had before. "What's next?"
Lyon didn't turn around. "The palms of your hands. The soles of your feet. And… are you covered?"
"Yes."
He turned and met her gaze. Even across the room she could see the need in the harsh lines of his face. She wanted him. Never had she felt such desire for a man. His touch aroused her more than she'd ever thought possible and his tongue….
Just the thought of his tongue sent a flurry of small spasms rippling through her womb.
Lyon started toward her, moving with a sleek grace that almost made it seem possible he could become the great cat in truth. The raw desire that filled his amber eyes made her breath catch and sent heat flushing her body.
She was trembling, she realized, as he closed the distance between them. She wanted him. How could she take any more of this? How could he?
To her surprise, he didn't stop in front of her as she'd expected, but fully closed the distance between them. Her heart leaped, her senses spinning as he pulled her against him, dug his hands into her hair, and claimed her mouth.
The moment his lips touched hers, desire exploded, sending her world tilting on its axis. She grabbed him to steady herself, holding on to him as he held her, as his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was as intense and barely controlled as the passion that flared between them. His mouth opened over hers, his tongue swept inside, strong and fierce, as if laying claim. She welcomed him, sliding her tongue against his, the gloriously masculine taste of him transporting her out of herself and into a lush, erotic jungle. Lyon groaned and pulled her tighter against him, tilting his head as if he sought to climb inside her, his desperation sending her into a tailspin of lust.
Slowly, his mouth gentled, coaxing instead of dominating, tasting instead of devouring. His tongue slid over hers in a sinuous dance, every stroke sending a lick of fire to her sensitive core until the throbbing between her legs became almost unbearable. Every stroke tightening, twisting, until she writhed against him, small whimpers escaping from her throat.
Dear heaven.
His tongue stroked hers once, twice more before the pressure deep inside her crested and broke, the orgasm ripping through her in furious, glorious spasms. He pushed the hand at her back lower, grabbing her rear and pressing her hips tight against the thick ridge in his pants. And still he kissed her. Still his tongue rode hers, sending her scattered passion into a whirlwind of a spiral, shattering her a second time.
Lyon pulled his mouth away with a last sensuous slide of his tongue against hers, then kissed the tip of her nose and held her tight against him as the spasms Slowly subsided, and her legs finally remembered how to stand.
"I shouldn't have done that," he murmured against her hair.
"Oh, I think it was a grand idea."
Lyon chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath her cheek. "It was necessary."
"Yes." She blinked. "Why?"
He pulled back, releasing her to stand on her own as he picked up the oil jar and dribbled a few drops into his palm, then knelt before her.
"Because, to open you to life," he murmured, then slid his oiled finger beneath the towel and between her legs. "I must oil the gates of your womb. Spread your legs, Kara."
She took a ragged breath and widened her stance, doing as he asked. Squeezing her eyes closed, she struggled to stand still as his fingers slid over that moist, sensitized flesh when all she wanted to do was buck and writhe until he buried himself deep inside her.
"Lyon…" she groaned.
"Stay in your skin, little Radiant."
"Stay where?"
"A shape-shifter saying. It means to calm down."
She groaned. "How?" She was out of control. She'd just come…twice…yet it hadn't been enough. Her body wanted him. Hips rocking, she pressed against his hand, unable to control the need raging through her. "I want you inside me, Lyon. All of you."
"I know. Sweet goddess, you're wet." His words were brittle with restraint. "But I can't take you. If I slake my desire on you now, the ritual won't work. I'll never know if I was the one."
"Lyon…" She was dying. Dying. "Lyon."
He shoved a finger inside her, then a second, and she moaned with relief. In and out, harder and faster, feeding her frenzy as she rode the waves of sensation. Never had she felt like this, so out of her head with desire she barely even remembered the word inhibitions, let alone knew what she'd done with hers.
She gripped his shoulders, feeling the towel slide down and away and not caring. When his mouth closed over her breast, she felt a hot spurt of triumph. Her hands moved to his head, his thick hair sliding between her fingers as she held him against her. She arched into his touch, rocking against his hand as his fingers dove into her, over and over, in a hard, desperate rhythm. Within moments, she was shattering yet again and knew she'd never felt anything so wonderful in her life.
Lyon pulled his fingers and mouth away and held her from him with shaking hands. His white-hot gaze scorched her naked body.
"Kara," he croaked. "Put the towel on. I'm hanging on to my control by a thread, and we're not done." He released her and reached for the oil as she struggled to wrap the towel around herself. In record time, Lyon rubbed the oil into her hands and feet, then strode to the closet with fast, urgent steps.
He returned with a simple, if elegant gown. The dress reminded Kara of a loose-fitting spaghetti-strap sundress, but longer. And silkier. A cocktail dress, she supposed, white with gold embroidery at the neck, and a spray of gold flowers running, diagonally from left breast to right hem.
"Drop your towel and lift your arms," he directed, keeping his gaze fixed on the far wall. She did, and he slipped the gown over her head and let it fall to a few inches below her knees in a soft cloud, caressing her skin with a sensuous softness.
Lyon turned away and stalked to the window. "Brush out your hair, and we'll go."
"What about shoes?"
"No shoes," he said, his voice hoarse, his hand gripping the window frame as if he meant to tear it off the wall.
She watched his rigid back a moment longer, then crossed to the bathroom where she'd left her hairbrush and pulled the rubber band out of her hair. As her hair tumbled around her shoulders, she caught her reflection and stared at herself in the mirror in bemused fascination. She barely recognized the woman she saw there. With her hair down, her cheeks and lips flushed, and the gown flowing over her slender curves, she almost looked like something out of a Greek play. As she moved toward the vanity for her brush, she caught the flash of light between her legs from the room behind her. Her gaze fell to her breasts, and her eyes widened. While one of her nipples was strategically hidden by a gold flower, the dusty bud of the other showed plainly against the sheer white of the gown.
The dress was indecently see-through!
Kara snatched up the brush and returned to the bedroom, where Lyon still gripped the window frame.
"I have to wear a bra with this. And I need a slip. And panties."
"No." The word was softly spoken, but laced with steel.
A dark suspicion had her catching her breath. "You told me there was no sex involved in this ritual."
"I told you the truth."
A harsh burst of strangled laughter escaped her throat. "Then why did you have to… turn me on? Why no underwear? Why the porn-queen dress?"
He turned slowly, his hot gaze skimming the dress and every one of her curves, setting her on fire all over again. But when his gaze finally met hers, his mouth twitched in what might have passed for a very strained smile.
"That porn-queen dress has been worn by our Radiants for nearly a thousand years."
A thousand… ? Kara's eyes widened.
"My intent wasn't to turn you on, as you put it, but merely to ready your body for the passion that will rise naturally during the ceremony. Passion opens the body and mind in ways nothing else can. It's the way nature finds… the one who will help you ascend."
"Passion." Why did she get the feeling he wasn't telling her everything. "But not sex?"
"No."