InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Gentle Insistence ( Chapter 96 )

Cain smiled as he brushed the hair out of Gin's face and stared at her tiny hand resting against his chest.

'You're a sucker, Cain.  Admit it.'

'Maybe.'

'Brought to your knees by a little hanyou girl.'

'Maybe.'

'Ha!  The great and powerful, magnificent, awe-inspiring, ferocious North America tai-youkai can't even tell his new mate 'no', and mean it!  That's just laughable.'

'You forgot 'virile'.'

'Dog.'

'Woof.'

Wrin kling his nose, Cain settled back in the plush velvet seat and carefully adjusted Gin.

"Why are we here?" Gin asked as she scowled out the window at the attendant in the parking garage under Le Meridien Pacific hotel.

"Because you're exhausted," he told her gently.

She shook her head and slowly turned to face him as confusion lit the depths of her golden eyes.  "But we were going to the beach house, weren't we?"

"We will," he assured her.  "I just figured that we could go out there tomorrow—after you've had a good night's rest."

"I'm fine," she argued.  "Cain—"

"You're not fine.  You could barely keep your eyes open, and that was just a twenty minute ride from your uncle's house."

Gin snorted and waved off his concern.  "I always fall asleep in cars," she informed him.  "I'm fine; I swear I am."

Cain pressed his lips together and shook his head.  "Humor me, then."

"But I want to go there . . . please . . . I promise I'll sleep the whole way . . ."

"Gin . . ."

"I'm a little tired," she admitted, "but I'm not too tired to go.  We're married now.  You have to listen to me, too."

He sighed and opened his mouth to tell her that he still didn't think it was a good idea.  He wasn't sure how the words that finally came out occurred to him.  "All right, but you promised."

Her smile was his reward, and he swallowed hard as his mouth dried out.  "Thank you."

Shaking his head as he stared out the window at the waning daylight of the Japanese countryside, Cain sighed.  'Yep.  I'm a sucker.'

The stoic driver who had been introduced as Rai cleared his throat.  "We will be there soon," he explained.  "Will you require anything?"

Cain blinked.  "I don't think so.  My daughter and her . . . and my wife's brother already set everything up."

Rai nodded and turned his attention back to the road again.

Gin sighed softly and burrowed closer but didn't wake.  Buried under the warmth of Cain's Mokomoko-sama, she seemed completely content, and Cain couldn't help but smile.  'God, she's beautiful . . .'

'Better than you deserve, don't you think?'

'Like that was ever a question.'

'You're right.  It wasn't.  Much better than you deserve, dog.'

'Absolutely.'

The last ten minutes of the drive passed without notice.  Preoccupied with touching Gin's hair, in trying to convince himself that she really was there with him; that she really was his wife—his mate—Cain's head jerked up when the car pulled to a halt.

Ignoring Rai as he opened the rear passenger door for Gin, Cain released the lever on his side and carefully gathered her up.  Rai bowed and strode up the sidewalk to the front door as he dug the keys out of his pocket.

"Will you require anything else, Zelig-san?"

Cain nodded toward the counter just inside the door when Rai held up the keys in silent question as he strode into the house.  "No, thank you," he answered with a repressed growl as the young man smiled at the sleeping woman in Cain's arms.

"Enjoy your vacation, Zelig-san," Rai intoned with a low bow before he turned to leave.

Cain didn't move until the young man closed the door behind himself, leaving Cain alone with Gin for the first time in days, or so it seemed.

Gin didn't stir as he carefully made his way up the stairs.  It didn't take long to find the master bedroom, and after pressing his lips to her forehead, he settled her onto the bed and pulled off her shoes before tugging the coverlet up to her chin, pausing long enough to brush his knuckles over her cheek when she whimpered quietly.

Bellaniece had brought some clothes for them, and Cain found those easily enough.  Thankful to be out of the constriction of his ceremonial clothes, he breathed a sigh of relief and changed his mind, dropping the shirt he'd picked out on the chair beside the window.

Stepping over to the window that overlooked the beach and the sea beyond, he smiled.  With the picturesque view, the mellow fall afternoon gave way to evening as shadows lengthened; as the sun dipped lower and lower, skimming the water but not quite touching.  The silence in the house was comforting; the soft whisper of Gin's light breathing offered a reassurance that went far deeper than words could allow.  Somehow this place seemed right, didn't it?  The perfect place to begin a new life . . . together . . .

Gin awoke with a start and sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes with balled-up fists as she tried to shake off the groggy feeling that lingered.

Wincing as she glanced down at the rumpled dress that she'd worn to her wedding reception, she pushed the coverlet away and swung her legs off the bed.

'Where's Cain?'

Wandering over to the window, the scowl on her face dissipated only to be replaced by a gentle smile as the man in question came into view.  Sitting with his feet buried in the sand as he stared at the horizon, she couldn't see his face, but the sense of tranquility surrounding him reached her, beckoned her.

She ran lightly from the room and down the hallway; down the stairs.  Pausing long enough to grab the crocheted blanket off the back of the sofa, she skittered over to the sliding glass doors and stepped outside.  The wind blew her hair back away from her face, carried her scent away as she padded through the sand behind Cain.  For a moment she thought that she'd succeeded in sneaking up on him.  He heaved a sigh and unhooked his arms from around his raised knees to smooth the sand beside him.  "I thought you were sleeping," he remarked quietly.

Gin slipped the blanket over her shoulders and sat down, holding out one side to offer it to Cain.  He took the end and pulled it around her before tugging her close to his side, leaning toward her enough to shelter her from the wind.  "I was," she quipped.  "I woke up."

"Are you hungry?  I could make something for you . . . I figured you'd sleep through the night."

"No, I'm fine," she assured him, "and I didn't want to sleep through the night."

He grinned slightly though his gaze remained troubled.  "You were tired—exhausted, really."

"Never too exhausted for you, and besides . . ."

He finally turned his head to look at her as she trailed off.  Unable to hide the blush that rose in her cheeks, she let her eyes drop to the sand and snuggled closer to him.  "Besides, what?"

She shrugged in what she hoped was an off-handed gesture.  "It's our wedding night," she reminded him.  "I can't sleep through that, can I?"

"I'd love to agree with you on that, baby girl, but . . ." He sighed, wiggling his toes, making the hill of sand rise and fall like a sink hole was about to open up.

"I did sleep," she protested.  "I'm not tired now."

His look proclaimed his doubt.  "It's alright, Gin."

"But we're supposed to be mates," she continued, positive her cheeks had to be cherry-red though she stubbornly persisted.

"We are mates," he said, shaking his head as he tucked the blanket in closer around her.  "I've marked you, married you . . . and I can wait for the rest of it."

She swallowed hard and scrunched up her shoulders.  "But what if I don't want to wait?"

"You were so tired . . . the wedding . . . the reception . . . Gin, it's fine.  Just humor me, okay?  All that stuff took a lot out of you.  We'll have a long time together, won't we?  Tonight . . . I want you to sleep."

Ignoring her protests, Cain stood and picked her up.  In the few minutes they'd been outside, the wind had increased, and as he carried her back toward the house, she hid her face against his chest to keep his hair from stinging her eyes.

He carried her back up to the bedroom and deposited her in the center of the blankets before mumbling something about food and turning on his heel to leave.

Gin sighed and wrinkled her nose, letting the afghan fall off her shoulders as she scooted off the bed and swiped up the teal satin nightgown that Bellaniece had left for her before stalking off to the bathroom.

'Calm down, doll . . . Cain's just concerned about your well-being; that's all.'

Gin closed the door and draped the nightgown and robe over the towel rack.  'My well-being would be a lot better if he'd just stop worrying so much.  I took my nap, and I'm fine . . . He's just being stubborn . . . stubborn, stubborn, stubborn . . .'

'You know, he's right.  You have the rest of your lives together, Gin.  You don't have to cram everything into one day.'

'I'm not cramming anything!  It's my wedding night!'

'So?'

'So?  So, certain things are supposed to happen on my wedding night, and sleep wasn't really one of those things.'

'In a perfect world, maybe.  You don't really think that you're the only girl who hasn't actually gotten to consummate her marriage on her wedding night, are you?'

'Keh!  No, I don't think that . . . because he's going to, even if I have to . . . to . . . to—"

''To', what?'

Face contorting in a scowl of concentration, Gin tugged off the dress and dropped it on the floor before snatching the nightgown off the towel rack and struggling into it.  'To . . . make him, I guess.'

Her youkai laughed.  'You're going to make Cain claim you?  Wow, doll . . . Can't say that this shouldn't be interesting.'

'This is silly!  We're married, right?  Married people should listen to each other!  Take Mama and Papa, for example . . .'

'Your father doesn't always listen to your mother, and you know it.'

'Well, maybe not all the time, but most of it . . . Anyway, this is entirely different.  It's my wedding night.  Certain things are expected.'

'Yeah?  You'd have an easier time convincing Cain if you could keep that blush off your face.'

Gin snorted, frowning at her reflection in the mirror.  'I thought you were on my side.'

'I am.  I simply have my doubts that you can get Cain to bend on this.  You know that your health is the most important thing to him.  You can't expect him to simply ignore it when you've obviously done more than you should have today.'

'I'm fine.  You're as bad as he is.  I took a nice, long nap, and we had to hurry the wedding, remember?  Cain has obligations . . .'

'You don't really believe that, do you?'

'Believe what?  Of course I believe that.  He said that he has to get back to America soon . . .'

'Listen, doll, you can lie to yourself if you really want to.  You might even believe what you're saying, but you know the real reason you rushed the wedding.'

'Real reason?' she echoed stubbornly.  'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'You do.  You wanted the wedding to be fast because you were afraid he was going to back out of it . . . Gin, you know, don't you?  Cain loves you.  He's not going to change his mind.  All you have to do is believe it.'

Taking her time adjusting the nightgown's straps on her shoulders, she bit her lip and sighed.  'I do believe it . . . at least, I want to believe it.'

'He came back for you.  Even if your father hadn't gone after him, he was still coming back.  You believe him, right?'

'I do,' she agreed.  'I . . . do . . .'

'Good, because it's true.  Now about this 'making' Cain claim you as his mate . . .'

Pausing as she pulled the robe over her shoulders, Gin made a face.  'He's my husband,' she grumbled.  'He should want to be with me.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Gin.  He wants to be with you.  He just wants you to be well-rested first.'

'I am well-rested . . . Well enough, at least.'

'This bodes well for you, doll.  Believe it or not, maybe his desire to have you completely rested is a good thing.'

Fighting down the blush that spiked in her skin, Gin shook her head and cinched the belt of her robe tight.  'He can still do this tonight, and I'll be well-rested tomorrow.'

'Oh, kami, you've been exposed to your brothers far too long, haven't you?'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' she scoffed, swiping her dress off the floor and yanking open the bathroom door before peering around the corner into the empty bedroom.  A piece of folded paper caught her attention, and Gin picked it up, smiling slightly at the familiar sight of her mother's script.

Staring from the note to the lovely teal silk robe and satin nightgown, Gin giggled even as tears pricked the back of her eyes.  'Thank you, Mama, Papa . . .' Busying herself by hanging the dress in the closet, Gin was just smoothing out the wrinkles when Cain strode back into the room.

"It's not much, but I figured you wouldn't want anything heavier."

"Thank you."

Cain looked up from arranging the tray and stopped, hand poised just over the utensils he'd just straightened as his mouth fell open for a moment before he snapped it closed to swallow hard.  "That's . . . nice . . ." he rasped out, clearing his throat as he stared at the ensemble.

"You like it?" she asked, turning around slowly so he could inspect it.  "Mama and Papa gave it to me.  They must have had Bellaniece bring it up."

He nodded, a slight flush rising in his cheeks as he let his gaze roam over her.  "Really nice . . ."

"It has your name on it," she pointed out, tracing the kanji lettering on the robe.

"So I see . . ."

'Making him claim you might be easier than you thought, doll.'

Gin tried to hide her amusement as she ducked her chin to hide her face from his perusal.  'Maybe.'

Gin let her hands drop to her sides and turned to look at the tray he'd brought in.  A small rice ball and a bowl of thin soup along with a glass of milk greeted her, and she wrinkled her nose.  "Did you bring me dessert if I drink that?" she asked, slipping into the chair at the small table he held out for her.

"Dessert?  Hmm, maybe."

She grinned.  "A peanut butter cup?"

He chuckled and slumped into the other chair.  "Just one?"

"I didn't want to seem like a piggy," she remarked as she lifted the bowl of soup.

"Too late for that.  We both know you're a peanut butter cup piggy."

"You should be nicer to me," she pointed out.  "I'm your wife."

"My wife, huh?"

"That's right.  I'm your wife, and it's your responsibility to make me happy."

"Wow . . . What happened to my sweet baby girl?" he complained with a mock wince.

"Don't worry, Zelig-sensei.  I'll make you happy, too."

Snorting indelicately at her choice of address for him, Cain leaned forward to push the glass of milk into her hand.

"I don't suppose it would matter if I said I don't want that?"

He shook his head.

Gin heaved a sigh and pushed the tray away.  "I'm not hungry," she protested.  "I ate at the reception."

"I know . . . I just wanted to make sure that you weren't hungry now."

She stared at him for a moment before pushing her chair back and slowly getting to her feet.  "I was thinking, Zelig-sensei . . ." she said quietly as she slipped onto his lap.

"About what?"

"About what you said earlier . . . about being able to wait."

Cain held her with one arm, idly tracing the kanji lettering on the left breast of the robe with his free hand.  "Oh?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And it's nice that you're being so noble and all that."

"Noble?" he echoed absently.

"Yes, noble.  Anyway, I promise I'm fine.  I had a good, long nap—"

"I'd hardly call a bit of sleep in a moving vehicle a 'good, long nap'."

"But tonight's our wedding night, Cain . . . Don't you . . . want me?"

His entire body stiffened at the implications of her question.  Cain heaved a sigh and shook his head.  "It's not about what I want, Gin.  It's about what you need, and you ought to know that.  Don't you ever question how much I want you—or anything else, for that matter.  That's not even an issue.  Sometimes I don't know where you get these insane notions of yours, but I swear if you don't stop—"

"Cain?"

"What?" he snapped.

Gin leaned away to wrap her arms around his neck, letting her gaze fall to his lips—just now pursed in a decidedly mulish expression.  "I want to be your mate."

"You are my mate."

She shook her head and stood up, stepping back as she sighed and licked her lips.  "Not completely . . . and that's what I want."

"Gin . . ."

"I won't break.  I promise."

He looked as though he wanted to argue.

"You love me, right?"

His gaze darkened as irritation flickered to life in his expression.

"If you love me, then you won't hurt me.  I trust you, Cain.  I trust you completely."

"You need to rest; no arguing.  You do this, and we'll see how you feel tomorrow."

Gin's shoulders slouched in defeat, and she turned away, untying the robe and shrugging it off to drape it over the foot of the bed.  The swish of the satin sent a shiver up her spine as the cool cloth brushed against her skin.  Bending down to pull the beautiful lace coverlet off the bed, she carefully folded it and set it on the chair beside the window.

'So you're going to give up, doll?  Just like that?'

Gin made a face as she folded down the blankets on Cain's side of the bed before padding around to her side.  'Might as well.  He's not going to listen to reason.'

Her youkai voice was quiet while Gin folded back her side of the blankets and shuffled off to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

'Come on.  You've put up more of a fight with your brothers before over things that weren't nearly as important.'

'That's the problem.'

'What is?'

She sighed and quickly dragged an ivory handled hairbrush through her locks.  'This is . . . this is much more important than anything I've had to grumble at my baka brothers for.'

Her youkai was quiet as she finished brushing her hair.  It didn't speak again until she was setting the brush aside.  'You know, doll, there's one thing you haven't tried . . .'

'There is?'

'Kiss him.'

'Kiss him?  But I always kiss him . . .'

'No, Gin, I mean really kiss him.  Show him what you want through your kisses.'

The thought of kissing Cain—really kissing Cain—set off a curious chain reaction, starting with the furious blush that shot to her skin and culminating in the unmistakable flood of lethargy tinged with the anticipation of being so close to him again.  Knees nearly buckling under the intensity of the need that swept through her, Gin steadied herself on the counter for a moment, gasping softly when she caught sight of her flushed skin, the almost predatory glint that ignited in her gaze as memories of their one stolen night teased her with delicious abandon.

'Really kiss him, huh?'

Gin smiled as she slowly turned away from the mirror.

'I think I can do that . . .'

Cain was lying atop the blankets with his hands folded behind his head when Gin stepped out of the bathroom.  Staring up at the ceiling with a marked frown on his face, he didn't look at her as she approached the bed and sat.  "Cain?  Are you okay?"

He sighed, and Gin couldn't help but stare at the broad expanse of his bared chest as he breathed in.  "Come here, Gin," he coaxed gently, despite the scowl on his face.  Reaching out for her, he finally spared her a glance.  The expression in his eyes was inscrutable, but she scooted toward him and let him tug her down against his chest.  "We have all the time in the world, you know."

"Sure, we do," she agreed, wiggling so that she could lean on her elbow.  "I thought the wedding was lovely."

He nodded, a tender smile finally surfacing as he idly stroked her hair.  "The bride was beautiful."

She ducked her head for a moment as a slight blush crept up her cheeks.  "You danced with me."

"Of course I did."

Gin swallowed hard, garnering her courage as she leaned down, her lips poised just above his, eyes half-closed, her voice little more than a breath, a whisper.  "Dance with me again, Zelig-sensei?"

He gasped at the heady quality in her voice, squeezing his eyes closed as he shook his head; as he fought against the draw of her body on his.  "God, Gin . . ."

His protests died as she pressed her lips to his; the low groan that escaped him was smothered, stifled.  He held back for a moment, as though he expected her to crumble under his touch, and when he slowly reached for her, his hands were shaking, trembling, hanging onto an invisible strand of control that wavered and faltered like leaves in the autumn wind.  Her lips opened to the stroke of his tongue, and he groaned as she closed her mouth around it, as she drew it deep, caressed it with want, with need—with love.

"Damn it," he growled, rolling to pin her against the mattress as she whimpered at the loss of his lips on hers.  "Do you have any idea, just what you're asking of me?"

"Yes, I'm asking you to make me your mate, Cain."

"Baby girl . . ."

Reaching out, timidly brushing her fingertips over his cheeks, Gin smiled.  "I'm fine, you know."

He sighed but nodded, closing his eyes as he leaned into her touch.  "You'd better be."

She didn't get a chance to answer as his lips fell on hers.  With tenderness that reached deep down inside her, she felt the sweetness of his kiss twist as he slowly relinquished his hold on the control that he'd so carefully constructed.  The flow of something much deeper, much more calculated loomed nearer, closer than her skin, closer than the innate knowledge that she was finally where she belonged.

The heat of his hands slipping up and down her sides both soothed and goaded her, the sensitivity behind the hands he used to create such masterpieces amazed her.  Sensing the turmoil that wrapped itself around her mind, he murmured soft words that she didn't hear.  Too busy concentrating on the final reawakening of her body, Gin closed her eyes, held him close, shivered as he trailed kisses along her jaw, down her throat; as he settled on her unsteady pulse.

Absolute need drove her, goaded her, pushed her as the call of his youki on hers spiraled out of her control.  The reassurance of his aura calmed and encouraged her.  The whisper soft touches meant to soothe her burgeoned in an ache that was wholly familiar and completely untamed.  The sense of desperation was missing; the urgency of the last and only time she'd been with Cain a dim memory that paled as sensation shot through her.  Vibrant and beautiful, the wealth of emotion that surged was a far cry from the harried act; a wondrous lethargy that was tempered by the steady hands that guided her.

Stroking her knee as he cradled her leg against his hip, Cain kissed her again—a soft kiss, a lingering brush of primal energy that threatened to engulf her.  The sweetness of his gesture inspired tears as his lips touched her eyelids, her cheeks, her temple.  Whispering words that dissolved in the dim light, Cain's strength radiated to her as she clung to him, as she pressed her lips against his chin, along his jaw.  He held her closer than his own breath, and Gin closed her eyes against the surging emotion that warred for dominance.

Caressing her collarbones with the pads of his thumbs as he leaned back to stare into her eyes, Cain growled low in his throat; a foreign sound that she understood.  Forcing her eyes open was another matter.  The sense of absolute lethargy, the inconsistencies in her awakening body were powerful adversaries, but in the end, she managed it.  "Stay with me, Gin."

She thought she nodded.  She wasn't sure.  Rioting nerves shot off, one by one, as Cain slowly, carefully slipped the spaghetti straps of the teal satin nightgown from her shoulders.  His palms burned against her arms; her heart hammered wildly in her chest as she braced her feet against the bed and arched her back so he could slide the gown down just a little further.

His sharp breath hissed as he revealed her breasts.  Gin's first instinct was to cover them.  The longing in Cain's gaze stopped her.  Staring at her as though he'd never seen her body before, Cain choked back a groan as he dropped over her, his mouth searing, hungry, tongue flicking over her overly sensitive nipple as he held her closer, closer . . .

The cry that welled up inside her was thick, harsh, and she couldn't help the throbbing sensation that built upon itself, the shocking burn as Cain's emotions fed hers.  The will to be dominated, the gentle wash of her surrender . . .

'My mate . . .'

'My mate . . .'

Unable to place the voice that whispered in her mind, Gin could only smile as she wrapped her arms around Cain's neck.  As faint as the spring breeze, as soothing as the summer sun, the voice spoke to her.  Cain was relentless, demanding and yet the tenderness he showed her was beautiful.

Fingertips tracing her ribcage, claws dragging over smoldering flesh . . .

Gin whined softly as Cain ran his fingers under the unwelcome barrier of the nightgown gathered around her hips.  His heat was so close to her, so agonizingly close . . . She reached out to touch him, to show him just what he was doing to her.  He gasped and jerked away, throwing his head back as he swallowed hard, as he shook his head.  "Gin, you can't . . ."

"But—"

"No," he growled.

"I want to touch you."

"Later."

Before she could protest again, Cain slipped his hands under her hips, grasped her nightgown, caught the lacy waistband of her panties and tugged them off before tossing them aside.  Cool air was a welcome relief on overheated skin.  Cain grasped Gin's foot, cradled it in his hands, massaged the sole as he methodically kissed each of her toes, eliciting shivers that ran up and down her spine; a soft moan that broke into a gasp as he flicked out his tongue against the delicate arch.

"C-Cain . . ."

"You're everything to me, Gin."

Her breath caught at his raw, rasping tone.  When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her.  Eyes blazing with a fierceness, a feral sort of pride, he let go of her leg long enough to remove his pants before grasping both her ankles, trapping her feet against his cheeks, alternating kisses between them.  "So tiny," he murmured, dragging his fangs over her instep.  She bit her lip and shook her head, unsure what she was asking him to do.

Cain turned her ankle, kissed her heel, wrapped the heat of his mouth over her Achilles tendon, growling low in his throat again.  The reverberation of the sound shot straight to her core, and Gin whimpered softly, gripping Cain's knees—the only part of him that she could reach.  Lightly running his hands up and down the length of her legs, Cain kissed his way up her calves to the back of her knees.  Hot breath turned cold as damp flesh ignited.  Torn between need and discovery, Gin gasped, writhed, willed him to understand.

Caught up in the rising tide of an almost painful desire, she moaned as he parted her legs, slipping his arms under her thighs, lifting her body to meet his perusal.  Tracing the contours of her body with the tip of his tongue, Cain chuckled huskily as she cried out his name, as she arched her back, as she invited him to claim her in a language only the two of them understood.  He sought her out; stripped away everything that she could have tried to hide behind.  Nothing was left to shelter her . . . Nothing but the comfort of his body, the persistence of his mouth.

The tempestuous spate of tactile feel left her reeling, keening, careening out of control.  Her flesh seemed to possess a mind of its own; a will to delve deeper, search harder, to find the secrets that taunted her.  He groaned as he spread her legs a little wider, opening her, tasting her, touching her heart, her soul.  The thinning strand of reason stretched tighter and tighter.  With a harsh entreaty, she cried out again.  The silvery thread snapped; the remnants of sanity faded as she pressed her feet against the mattress, rose against his mouth: shameless, wanton, beautiful.

"Don't cry . . . hey . . ."

Gin sniffled and opened her eyes, blinking quickly as a quivering smile trembled on her lips.  Cain was leaning on his elbow, smoothing her hair back from her face as he shook his head, as he frowned in confusion.   "Did I hurt you?"

She choked out a small laugh and cupped his cheeks in her hands.  "No," she answered, willing him to understand.  "It's just . . . I mean . . . I really love you, Cain."

A slow smile started to spread over his features as he kissed her eyelids, as he licked away the lingering traces of her tears.  "Forever, baby girl."

"For . . . ever," she breathed, wrapping her arms around him as he shifted his weight.  He moaned quietly as he slipped into her, his body shuddering under her fingertips as she locked her ankles around his hips.

He held still for several seconds.  Gin uttered a groan of protest.  Cain kissed her to calm her, coaxed her lips apart as he deepened the kiss, as he rocked his hips against hers.  She could feel her body convulsing around him, could feel every nerve, every breath.  Cain's heartbeat became her own, and her moans became his as she captured his bottom lip between her teeth, holding onto him as she ran her tongue over the smooth skin.

The delicate rhythm, the corporeal song, the dance that she'd wanted spun away from her control.  The gentle voice in her head whispered in time with his thrusts: 'Mine . . . mine . . . my mate . . .'

The slow grinding, the rising ache drew a whimper from her.  It was close, wasn't it?  The repletion that he could give her . . . It was close enough that she could feel it, and yet . . . and yet she couldn't quite reach it, either.

He throbbed inside her, unleashed a muffled groan as she tore her mouth away, leaning up to kiss his throat.  Cain's muscles were tensed, waiting, as though he were fighting to contain his emotions.  Wrapping her hands around his biceps, Gin met his thrusts with a primitive abandon.  The friction of their bodies tormented her; the harsh scrape of their breathing echoed in her ears.  Cain reached back, hooked his arm behind her knee.  Gin uttered a half-sob, half-groan as he reached deeper; harder, faster.

She felt it building: the culmination of need.  Gathering strength, intensity like the gales of a summer storm, it broke over her in waves, tearing through the final traces of coherence.  Crying out time after time, her body exploded, dissolved, shattered.  Growling almost savagely, he thrust harder once, twice, thickening, throbbing, filling her as he finally claimed her as his mate.

It seemed like an eternity before Gin dared to open her eyes.  Breath unsteady, hands trembling, she was curled against Cain's side, her cheek resting over his heart.  His arms tightened around her, and she smiled when she felt his lips on her forehead.  "My mate," she whispered, pressing herself closer to him.

"My mate," he echoed.

"Now I'm tired," she admitted.

He sighed, but didn't scold her.  "I'd think so."

She giggled softly.  "For . . . ever . . ." she murmured, summoning the last bit of consciousness she possessed as the welcoming arms of sleep beckoned her.

She thought she heard him chuckle.  "Forever won't be nearly long enough, baby girl . . . not with you . . ."

'The future . . . We'll have our future . . . starting tomorrow . . .'