White Hot Holidays

He was tired of playing games with this woman, with his true mate. Kheelan narrowed his eyes on the delicate little beauty, and fought to hide his determination to have her in his bed, behind the fall of his lashes.

She was stubborn, this Cara. For a year he had tempted her, come to her dreams and teased her with his touch, and for a year she had denied him. She did not come to him, but rather made him seek her out, made him all but go to his knees to plead for her attention.

A woman of First Earth would have never done such a thing. They were certain of their ability to draw their true mate, and made no excuses for their sexual natures. They tempted their warriors, drew them, used their exquisitely honed bodies to ensure the mating held firm. As with any bonding, neglect could weaken the binding bands and leave a couple forever distant, unable to enter each other's souls. It could literally be the death of a warrior or a warrioress.

"I have few friends, Cara." This was no more than the truth, a warrior made few friends out of necessity. The lands of First Earth were still wide-open, and other than small sections, unpopulated. A warrior's travels could take years, and unless he was mated, such travels were made alone.

Suspicion glittered in her eyes then. She was an intelligent little thing, his Cara. She took no one at face value though, trusted no one, loved no one. From his investigation of her, other than a few friends, she had been alone most of her life.

What made her wish such an existence?

"Then go find your other friends, Kheelan." Her voice was gentle, her eyes, though suspicious, were kind.

"Oh Cara..."

"She's lost her mind..."

"Where's the straightjacket, she needs to be committed."

He watched the frown that flitted over her face at her friends' muttered comments, as well as the heat that intensified in her face. And such an intriguing little face. Like a curious little cat, especially when those unusual eyes narrowed on him and she pushed her chair back.

Ahh, success.

Kheelan straightened, staring down at her as she rose to her feet and grabbed his hand.

"Come here."

That did not sound like an invitation to the nearest bed. Her voice snapped with ire as she tugged at his hand, leading him through the club at what he was certain she thought was a quick pace. It was a leisurely stroll for his much longer legs.

But he liked the way her small hand attempted to circle his wrist. Her fingers lacked quite a bit of space before meeting, but her hold was firm, strong for a woman so delicate.

"I cannot believe you." Amazement colored her voice as she drew him into the crisp late December air of the balcony attached to the restaurant and connected club.

The woodlands surrounded the balcony, providing an intimacy in the area that Kheelan reveled in. It wasn't like home, but it reminded him much of the wildeforests of First Earth. The trees grew huge there, the streams ran deep and wide and the mountain lakes were a mystery all their own.

"I have not yet said anything for you to disbelieve." He noticed the chill bumps that covered her arms, the way she hugged herself against the cold.

Shaking his head, he drew his leather jacket from his shoulders and laid it over hers. Her reaction was breathtaking. Her eyes widened further as his body heat surrounded her then sank into her, just as he had intended. He did not like to think of his woman being cold.

"What are you trying to do, Kheelan?" she asked, confused. "Why are you teasing me like this?"

Kheelan stared down at her in surprise. For a year he had chased her, doing everything he could to draw her into his arms, and still she fought him. And she believed he was only teasing her? Playing a game with her?

"Have you ever wanted anything so deeply, with such hunger, that you thought of nothing else? Dreamed of nothing else?" he asked her, staring intently into her perplexed gaze as his hands touched her hips, drawing her slowly toward him. "I do not tease you, pretty Cara. I ache for you. I hunger for you. Perhaps it is you who teases me?"

Damn her, but he was hard. His cock was pressing against his pants with such insistence that he had to grit his teeth to keep from giving it freedom. For surely if he did he would lift her from her feet, wrap those silky thighs around his hips and show her why all women should wear such short, tempting little skirts as the one she wore.