Seeking Her Mates Boxed Set: A Shifter Menage Serial (All Five Parts) Read online

  Back in her medieval bed-chamber once again, Lily allowed herself a deep intake of breath as she realized that she’d finally rid herself of the weight that had been perched on her shoulders for what felt like decades, though days would have been a more accurate time frame.

  She’d seen him and now it was done. She could begin to move on.

  Only a few seconds had passed when she felt a tug at the back of her dress, then a dully resonating thud from behind her as something hit the floor.

  When she turned to see what the noise had been, her heart was once again put through its paces, beginning a new dance within her chest. Conor lay on the floor before her, seemingly unconscious.

  “Oh, dear God.” The words came out in a gasp as she realized what had occurred. and she looked around as though searching frantically for an invisible helper. But how on earth would she explain this to anyone? “I accidentally jumped into the twenty-first century and brought back a hot classmate of mine. Sorry about that. Can he stay?”

  “Conor,” she whispered as she knelt down on the floor next to him. She touched his face and he stirred gently, a moment passing before his eyes shot open.

  “Are we in your time?” he asked.

  Lily froze, her eyes locked on his face. A calm had settled into his expression in stark contrast from the irritation she’d seen a few minutes before. And then he smiled, breaking through the tension which seemed to have formed a brittle wall between them.

  “How did you know…?” she began.

  “I know about you—I have learned who you are over time, though at first I was puzzled more than anything. I know you’re not like everyone else, Lilliana. And I know that we just leapt through centuries together, which makes me very happy.”

  Now Lily found herself speechless. It seemed that the lengthy explanation which she’d dreaded wouldn’t be necessary.

  “I’m not like everyone else either,” he added, his dimples communicating joy. “There are things I should tell you. Once you’ve told me exactly where and when we are.”

  “We’re in my home. Dundurn Castle in Cornwall. The year is 1369.” Lily delivered the information in a matter of fact tone, more distracted by his words than by the awkwardness of having brought him with her. “But I suspect that you know that. What are you talking about? Who are you, Conor?”

  He pushed himself up, palms flat on the stone floor as he continued to stare at her. “You’re more frightened by all of this than I am, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Lily stood and crossed her arms. “Frightened? I’m not frightened by much.” The creature within her was rearing up in protest. Pfft, fear. Fear was for the weak, and she was nothing of the sort. Who was he to insinuate that anything could instil any sort of fear in a dragon shifter?

  “You’re frightened by the notion of attachment,” Conor said, pulling himself to stand before her. “You’re frightened of your attraction to me.”

  Again, the woman before him found herself speechless. There was an arrogance in the words and yet more infuriating than that was how right they were.

  “Of course I am,” she blurted out. “You’re not what I’m supposed to be with. You’re not meant to be my…”

  “Your what? Your mate? Because I’m a human man? What an antiquated notion,” he scoffed. Again he was right, but again her back wrenched itself into a stiff protest.

  “It may be antiquated, but it’s how things are done around here. Hell, Conor, I’m antiquated. I’m hundreds of years older than you.”

  “You’re twenty, maybe,” he said. “You’re beautiful. You’re perfect. And I want you. I’m drawn to you, so whatever the rules, whatever our respective centuries, we found each other. We were drawn across time to one another. Don’t discount that as somehow meaning that I’m not the man for you.”

  “You’re not one of the men for me, you mean.”

  “Oh—because of how your people mate. Your threesomes,” he said. “You’re worried about the fact that I’m not man enough.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Lily’s tone had become defensive, but this time she defended him rather than herself. He was all the man that any woman could want.

  “I’m only kidding, Lily. Playing with you. Taking the piss, as we say.” He laughed. “I understand that your world and mine aren’t one and the same. I know a thing or two about the Ritual.”

  “How do you know about the Ritual? It’s been a well-guarded secret for centuries by your time.”

  “For one thing, no one can keep secrets from me for long, and that one has been on your mind all your life.”

  “So you’re saying that you know my mind?”

  “No. I’m saying that I can feel it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m a seer, Lily. I’ve known all along that something about you was different; I just didn’t fully understand what. I sensed that you were blocking me out somehow, but that you weren’t quite human. Only, I didn’t understand exactly what you were until you came back to me today. Oh, don’t worry; I don’t read all your thoughts. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. But I know now that you are a shifter. I know that you can move through time. And I knew from the first moment I laid my eyes on you—before then, even—that I needed to be with you. There is a reason I showed up in that class. There is a reason that I missed the last day, and that I came to find you.”

  “If you can read me so well, why did you ask me all those questions about my forwarding address and so on? About my family?”

  “Because, as I said, there was a block; a wall between us. As much as I tried, I couldn’t penetrate your shell. I wanted you to tell me about yourself. I wanted to see if you could render yourself vulnerable to me.”

  “And I failed that test.”

  “Yes, with flying colours. But now I know why. It can’t be easy to open up to someone and tell them that your parents change into furry creatures.”

  “Or scaly ones,” she said.

  “Scaly? I see,” Conor mused. “Well, you must tell me more about that later. I can only hope that it means what I think, and not that I’m falling in love with a cobra.”

  “Maybe I’ll even show you what I mean,” said Lily, who allowed herself a brief moment of laughter. “One thing I should let you know: I have a twin.”

  “That much I know.”

  Lily threw her hands up as though in defeat. “Of course you do. So much for being an intriguing woman of mystery.”

  “You will always be intriguing to me, Lilliana. Particularly if you allow me to remain in this life of yours.”

  “But how? How can you? You have a life elsewhere, in another century.”

  “So do you, if you recall. You were beginning to build a life in my time.”

  Lily’s mind began to navigate around the words. He had a point; there was no reason that they had to stay in the fourteenth century. Her duties involved mating and creating offspring but not tending the castle; her parents were there, after all, and the nature of shifters meant that their long lives would ensure that Dundurn would have caretakers for ages to come.

  “You’re right. I do have a life there. Or did, rather. But tomorrow, in this place, there will be a tournament to find me a suitable mate or two. And I’m not sure how much say I have in all of it.”

  “Then I’ll need to win the tournament, won’t I?”

  * * *

  15

  Torn, Chapter Fifteen

  “But you’re not…” Lily froze, unsure of the proper etiquette in this situation. She would have loved nothing more than to be “won” by Conor. But he was no shifter. He had special abilities, yes. But a prerequisite for her mates was the blood of shifters. And preferably of an entire line of them, passed from one generation to the next.

  “I’m not quite like you. No, I suppose I’m not. I’m stuck in this wretched human body for some time, it seems,” he said, gesturing to his impressive frame.

  This body that he dared complain about was the one that Lily fanta
sized about, desired. Ached for, even. The body that was so utterly wrong for her according to every rule she’d ever been taught. If it was somehow against nature to want him then why the hell did she want him so much?

  “There is, however, a way to become like you.”

  Lily stared at him, holding her breath and not daring to hope.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I know that you saw my family tree, Lilliana. So you know that up until the fifteenth century the women had two mates. Up until a hundred years after this moment where we stand, my family was made up of shifters.”

  “I…” Lily couldn’t find the words to express what she was feeling. Could it really be?

  “That blood is within me, somewhere. I have spoken to my family. I know the truth now. And at last I understand why I was so drawn to you, even before I’d met you.”

  “You’re a seer, though,” she said. “Surely you knew already that you had a shifter’s genes.”

  “I suspected it, I suppose. My grandmother always told me tales, but I always thought she was a little batty. As I’ve said, I don’t see everything. I can often envision events that have yet to take place. But for me to know how my ancestors lived—that is not a gift I have. I do not read the past, which is why I was unaware of you until you came to London, to my time.”

  “What would need to happen to turn you? To make you into one of us?” asked Lily.

  Conor’s eyes seemed to flash bright before half-closing into a mischievous look. “A Ritual would do it,” he said.

  Everything inside Lily wanted to dance and to sink at once. If he could make it…if he could win one of the top positions in the tournament…

  “I know,” he said. “I’m putting the cart before the horse. I need to beat a whole lot of shifters in order to become one myself, and the odds are virtually nil. Nevertheless,” he added, “I’d like to fight for you. I think—I believe in my heart—that I would prove worthy of you. And if not, I would be willing to die trying.”

  “But you will die. Don’t you see? You’ll be killed,” she struggled to keep her voice intact, walking a few steps away, reluctant to let him see the concern on her brow.

  A moment later, a hand touched her back again—that same hand that had caressed her so lightly as she’d left the exam room back in London.

  “Lilliana.”

  And then his breath was on her neck as he stood behind her, her face directed towards the opposite wall. No, this couldn’t happen, she thought. He couldn’t participate in the tournament…she couldn’t lose him. Not like this.

  “You’ll be killed,” she repeated softly. “And I don’t know what I would do…”

  “If I don’t participate two men will step in and I will have no right, no claim to you or your body. There will be no chance for you and me whatsoever.”

  She knew that he was right, but it hurt too much to consider. She turned slowly as his hand remained in place, gliding around her body as she eased around. His fingers seemed reluctant to lose their contact with her flesh; he was taking ownership of her, and she wanted nothing more.

  At last her eyes were on his again and she knew that he could see her fighting back tears.

  He moved in then, comforting her with his closeness, his large frame advancing like a protective force.

  He lifted her chin and kissed her, then with both hands he pulled her by the waist towards his body. Heat seemed to rise from his flesh as his tongue met hers, and Lily felt another sort of warmth surge through her frame, coming to a resting point between her legs, signalling the desire which had built up for so many days.

  She felt her dress attempt to slide away as they embraced, its broad neck opening to droop over a bare shoulder, which Conor detected. He leaned down and kissed her exposed skin softly.

  And then, as though his mind altered in a flash, his hands went to the front of the dress’s bodice and roughly he tore at it, pulling it into two parts. She stood tall before him then, her breasts exposed, feeling empowered and vulnerable, terrified and happy at the same time.

  Conor looked down at her, his hands still holding the shredded fabric, his extraordinary eyes beholding the body in front of him. Those round, high breasts…she was as lovely as he’d pictured and any element of the gentleman within him was quickly deserting him—he simply wanted to ravage her. Now.

  He wanted to speak, to express what it was that he felt, but he stopped himself. Words, after all, were unnecessary by this point. He took her by both hands and pushed her so that her back hit the wall with a passionate force that thrilled her. She was not helpless by any means, and he knew it.

  To Lily all of it was new; the emotions, the physical sensation. She felt herself give way, allowing him to take control, to dominate her momentarily, and she loved the feeling of deep trust building within her: he could have her. He could do whatever he wanted. She was giving herself to him now, whether it was approved by her shifter code or not. Her body was meant, in that moment, for him.

  Conor raised her hands above her head and clenched them together in his own, thrusting them against the cold stone wall.

  “Do you want me?” he asked, his voice a coarse growl.

  “I…”

  He held onto both of her hands with his left, and with his right hand pulled again at the garment which barely covered her now, and threatened already to fall to the ground.

  “Do you want me, Lilliana? Speak,” he said before placing a rough kiss on her white neck.

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  “Say it.” Conor had a firm grip on her linen dress, but he was waiting for her words before proceeding.

  “I want you, Conor.”

  He released her hands and grabbed the front of the dress, tearing it in two, all the way down to its bottom seam. Her entire form was now naked before him except for a pair of black lace panties and the remnants of the garment which would not be worn again. Conor’s breath became heavier as he stared at her, as though he’d exerted himself or were now doing so while he came to a decision: to feast or not?

  “I’m going to satisfy my hunger now,” he whispered, his tone decisive in her ear. “I’m going to eat you, Lilliana. I’m going to make you come for me. I will not dishonour you by finding my way inside you before the Ritual. But I need to get my mouth on you or I think I will die.”

  Lily replied by putting a hand on his neck, her eyes solidly fixed on his. With her fingers she led his face to the place between her breasts, encouraging him to taste her salty flesh, to understand what it was that he was doing to her. To know at last how she wanted him.

  And Conor obeyed, his tongue and lips taking in the savoury taste of her flesh. Everything in her delighted his tongue, tasting as she had always smelled: raw desire seeping out of her very pores.

  He eased his way up her body again and kissed her neck, his lips eager. Lily lifted her head and allowed him to access every inch as she inhaled deeply. This moment, she knew, may never occur again. She might lose him tomorrow: tonight was to be enjoyed, savoured.

  Again, Conor moved his head down, lips teasing her tingling flesh, until he’d found his way to her right nipple. This time it was he who sighed, enthralled at the response of her flesh under his touch. At first he teased her gently, his tongue easing its way around her areola until the center firmed into a hard tip. His lips pursed around it, sucking delicately at first as he pushed the shredded remains of her dress towards the floor.

  He slid a hand between her legs, which made Lily gasp; this was all so new, so exciting. Her fantasies had been wonderful. But never had she imagined the chemical fireworks that his touch might set off within her as he explored her body.

  Conor’s hand was doing just that, his fingers slipping under her panties and along her opening, spreading the wetness that her desire had inspired. “Dear Lord,” he moaned, pulling his hand away and licking her taste off its tip. “You taste like the nectar of the gods.”

  Lily smiled down at him, filled with a
new sort of confidence. She had never felt worshiped by a man, and now here she was, admired, wanted. Was this how it would feel every time? If so, she would quickly become one of those sex addicts she always heard about on the news. And what an addiction it would be. She would not seek rehabilitation for it, but nurture it and enjoy every moment of pleasure.

  Conor explored her left nipple, now rock hard, and as he did so he took her hand and lifted it to her right breast.

  “Touch yourself,” he said quietly, looking up towards her face. “For me.”

  Lily had fondled her breasts often over the years, getting to know her own body. But to do so in front of another person was an entirely new experience.

  Tentatively she allowed a finger to slide over the nipple as Conor returned to his task, sucking and lengthening its twin, stimulating it into submission.

  As Lily toyed with her own body her lover slid down her front, hands on her hips, and kissed his way down her belly. Self-consciousness was leaving her entirely now, and her body, which in his century had seemed a thing to cover up, had become a work of art.

  Now she took both breasts in her hands, fingers pinching the pink buds as Conor’s hands grabbed her panties and ripped them apart forcefully, exposing all of her for the first time.

  He inhaled deeply, his face burying itself in between her legs, the lace in his hands falling to the floor as the dress had done.

  Lily’s stance, devoid of any previous self-consciousness, was that of a warrior princess: empowered, sensual, strong. Her legs spread out, straight lines leading in a triangle up to the soft flesh on which her lover was now feasting.

  His tongue seemed like an expert in its field: at first it made only brief appearances, caressing her delicate skin as though to sample its taste. Lily felt soft kisses land on her sensitive clitoris, hands spreading her flesh to access each millimeter of delicate nerves. And then he would pause and rub her with his fingertips, slowly, expertly, as his eyes rose to watch her own fingers at work.

  “I love watching you. But I want to eat you out, and I want to do it properly. Get on the dresser,” he said, an assertiveness in his tone which Lily was enjoying more than she dared admit to herself.