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not threaten her.
    Vetiver was his equal.

Chapter Four
     
    A tempest lashed through the maze of the Device home. It
tore open the doors, sent papers flying, overturned an easy chair. It whipped
Vetiver’s hair around them, but left his hair untouched. It tugged at her
dress, played across her bare skin like a thousand hungry fingers, but it
ignored Boreas completely. He stood in the eye of it. Unmarked.
    It was his magic.
    She could smell his signature on the gust, filling her head
with images of lust and carnality. A mixture of damp, green, growing things.
Shelled nuts left to cure in the hot sun. Dark, rich soil, fertile for
planting. Freshly cut trees, sticky with sap. Sweet herbs. The cold signature
of spring water bubbling up from a granite well. The acrid bite of ozone before
a lightning strike. The far, shady hearts of unexplored forests smothered in
moss. This perfumatory intoxicated her.
    But it was his kiss that held her spellbound.
    Where before he’d taken her breath, now he breathed for her.
He filled her with his essence. Imbued her with his power, making her a part of
his storm, not just its target. His breath reached down into her and awakened
every erogenous zone she possessed—and some she’d been completely oblivious to
before this.
    Her neck fell back in a swoon that melted her whole body to
pliancy. Boreas’ lips moved to scorch a trail down her jaw, before raining a
volley of kisses on the curvature of her throat. He was pressed to her, full
length, leaving no doubt in her mind just how determined he was to go beyond
kisses and breezes.
    The heat of his skin seared her nipples until they became
hard. Until they ached. Her breasts felt heavy, swollen. Just as he was
swollen. His cock was prodding the vee of her thighs in a thick, solid
extension of his desire. The muscles on his chest were dense and strong, the
bulge of his biceps roped and rigidly flexed. Though her feet dangled several
inches off the ground, he showed no strain in holding her, keeping her tightly
imprisoned in the cage of his arms while his whirlwind lashed her, whipped her,
pleasured her.
    Her toes curled. His Wind massaged her breasts, buttocks and
legs. It draped her shoulders with layers of tickling, teasing coolness.
    Vetiver was thrown into the vortex of such exquisite
sensuality that she almost came when he pressed his hot lips to her madly
beating pulse. He drew her hypersensitive skin between his teeth, stinging her.
He sucked hard, marking her. This delicious pain hit a reflex inside her body,
squeezing her womb. The breeze lifted her legs and Vetiver eagerly wrapped them
around him, hooking her ankles in the small dip at the base of his very long
spine, just above his clenched buttocks.
    He put his hand under her bottom and pulled her closer.
    It was all she could do to not to gyrate against him. Her
swollen vulva rested on the ridge of his desire. His length pressed against the
seam of her labia and she was instantly damp behind the trivial scrap of her
satin panties. The pressure was enough to make her crave more. She tightened
her legs. The flexing of her thighs felt exquisite, so she tightened them
further.
    His first kiss had been a warning. This kiss was a promise
of forever. And ever.
    She never stood a chance.
    He ground his hips into hers, rooting deeper between her
legs. She might as well have been naked. He almost entered her through their
clothes. His lean hips undulated in circles, dancing them together in swirls
upon the floor with his agile footwork. She couldn’t help it, she moved with
him, rolling her hips.
    All the while, the gale ravaged across the island, through
her home, around her limbs and hair.
    Then Vetiver was on the bed again, this time flat on her
back, her buttocks on the edge of the mattress with her legs still locked
around him. He leaned over her, a dark cloud of hair, a volcanic glow of amber
eyes, and brushed the curls from her face with his fingertips. “How do you like
my kisses