Embrace the Wind by Charlotte Boyett-Compo Read Free Book Online Page B

and her long silver hair fanning down over his
    thighs when she dropped her head back. Her orgasm as she rippled around him caused
    her eyes to roll back in her head.
    At long last he lay staring at the ceiling, his body blissfully exhausted between the
    two eldest sisters with Blondie asleep atop him, her head on his shoulders and her
    lower body wedged between his thighs. He’d taken them each into a world they had
    only glimpsed and he’d worn them—and himself—out on the journey.
    Owen is going to kill me , he thought then looked at the sleeping face of the girl he
    now knew was named Aureolin Belvoir. “If these three don’t kill me first.”
    He turned his head and stared at Argent’s lovely face and felt something odd stir
    inside him. He was puzzled by the alien feeling and tested it as he would have a sore
    tooth. He mentally poked at it, turned it over and over in his brain but still what he was
    experiencing was confusing him. His brows drew together as he tried to understand
    exactly what it was that was making his chest feel tight, his eyes burn, his heart ache.
    Was it because he was still tired from the sexual acrobats of the night? Did his eyes
    sting because he did not get enough sleep? Had the physical fatigue caused the pain
    located in the region of his heart?
    Shifting slightly to get a better look at the woman beside him, he studied her
    features intently—thinking perhaps there was something there in her face that was
    causing this odd sensation building within him. His gaze roamed over the soft flesh, the
    pert little nose, the sultry mouth, the stubborn chin. It lingered on her silky lips and he
    found himself longing to taste them again. He lowered his attention to the steady rise
    and fall of her breasts and realized he ached to hold them in his hand, to mold his palm
    to their fullness. Dropping that scrutiny to where their bodies touched, he spied just the
    faintest shadow of the folds of her sex and found himself growing hard. He wanted to
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    bury his cock inside her so badly it made him tremble. It was at that moment he came to
    the realization that he knew precisely what was ailing him.
    “I’ll be a gods-be-damned Diabolusian warthog,” he whispered.
    When had it happened? he wondered as he continued to stare gently at this
    gorgeous woman. When had mere lust turned to something far more intense, more
    binding?
    The strange sensation in his chest wasn’t weariness from the exhausting sex he’d
    engaged in earlier. The prickling at his eyes wasn’t from a lack of adequate rest and the
    ache in his heart had nothing whatsoever to do with fatigue.
    He had found that elusive emotion he had never thought to know again.
    He had found love and the realization shook him to the core of his foundation.
    When her beautiful gray eyes opened to reveal to him the tender, giving, loving soul
    behind those silver windows, he thought he might cry from the intensity of the feelings
    that were flooding his being.
    “ Maddie vie , dooinney ,” Argent said, wishing him a good morning,
    Eanan was stunned for a moment by the title she gave him—husband—but he
    realized that to the three women lying in the bed with him, that was exactly what he
    was. He belonged to them and they to him. He was their husband in all the ways that
    mattered, but to the woman gazing back at him, he knew he would be even more. To
    her, he would be soul mate, bond mate, and the last thought he would ever have this
    side of the Abyss would be of her.
    “ Maddie vie , ben heshee kied ,” he responded and saw her eyes fill with tears that he
    had called her his primary wife as the Rysalians do.
    “ Ben heshee kied ,” she repeated. She entwined her fingers with his. “I am proud to be
    your wife, Reaper.”
    “Proud enough to take my name?” he asked, gazing back at her with the budding
    love that had opened a new petal during the long night hours.
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    Charlotte Boyett-Compo
    “Argent Tohre.”