by Anise Rae
She continued, talking over his angry objections, “And I wanted to do it.” She hardened her tone. “I wanted to let my vibes free. All of them. I didn’t care what would happen to those men.” She lifted her chin, letting him see her defiance. “You should let me go. You’re tempting me and my morals aren’t as strong as my desire.”
He put his hands low around her hips and pulled her to him. She sucked in a tight breath at the sensations—the buttons on his jeans, the toughness of the denim, the hard press of him beneath.
“Does Fancy know you didn’t live up to your end of the deal?”
“What?” Her mind struggled to grasp the question.
“You might have been nearly naked up there with every joule of your power on display, but you’re still shielding yourself. The next time you dance, firefly, I want it to be just for me. And I want to see your eyes.”
The truth was she danced only for herself. It was like an offering to her own body and soul. The thought of him—only him—witnessing it, struck a profound sense of intimacy in her. And she wanted it. She wanted it now, as if his words had set loose some beast in her she hadn’t known existed. She wanted to dig her claws into the sensation and hold onto it forever, to connect herself to someone…to him…to not be so alone in this power.
She reached out and dragged a finger down the open section of his shirt. “Maybe I’m the one who’s spellbound,” she whispered. “You’re a dangerous man, Gregor.”
“I’m no danger to you.”
She shifted her hips against him, wrapping one leg around his, anchoring him. His hardness pressed against her core in just the right spot. Pulling him down to her by the collar of his shirt, she pressed her lips against his mouth. He tasted of spice and strength and heat.
“I’m a bad influence,” she whispered against his lips. She’d skated too close to her edge and she’d fallen over it, landing in the middle of a temptation she couldn’t resist. She trailed her fingertips against the stubble that shadowed his face.
“I love your influence.” His lips tickled hers. “And your body and your vibes. They sing with such perfection that even a deaf man can hear it.”
She stroked her tongue along the line of his lips. He opened his mouth beneath her gentle assault and then took control for himself. He pulled her tight, sealing his lips against hers, his tongue sliding in.
A moan escaped from her. She didn’t mean to. It sounded of desperation, of absolute need. She didn’t want to be this needy.
As if in response to such a traitorous thought, the pool of heat at the juncture of her legs heightened, demanding its cure.
She pulled the tie of the silky robe free. It sank down to her feet with a silent slither.
He broke their kiss and stepped back, eyeing her as if he couldn’t help himself.
He growled. “I think you’re sense drunk on your own vibes, firefly. If I were a gentleman, I’d leave and stand guard outside your door.” His words vibrated with desire, with his power, their roughness sounding like the fabled voices of the Wild West’s wolfmen.
“Your sense of honor, while admirable, is misplaced.” Under his gaze, her vibes flowed faster, harder. She wondered if he could sense it.
He reached out and she jumped when he lightly set his hand against that spot between the curve of her waist and the start of her lower ribs. She felt cherished, wanted, but it was a teasing touch. Only his fingertips rested against her, and it was not enough. She guided his hand to cup her heavy breast and closed her eyes in pleasure.
“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice low and soft. He brushed his thumbs over the hard pebbles of her nipples. Heat spiraled through the sensitive buds, almost too much to bear. She grabbed his wrists, trying to stay afloat through the pleasure. Had she ever felt so much need? It was like swimming through a newly discovered sea, its warm current pulling her along.
She’d needed to be touched for so long.
“So soft, Mara. And the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen.”
The kindness of his words soaked into her as he stroked higher, over her shoulders. Her breasts still ached for his touch, but he traveled his hands over her neck and into her hair. He held her chin high and gazed into her eyes. Those blue eyes were dark and hot and the connection that clicked between them went to the bottom of her soul, places no one had ever seen.
An unexpected fear tangled through her that he’d see her and find her lacking, that her doubts, her past, her power were too much.
“You give me hope,” he whispered. “You make me believe in me.”
Gregor pressed his lips against hers, a whisper of a kiss, a promise of what was to come. He’d caught the fear in her eyes, that fright that might lead to escape. More than anything, he needed her to let him cherish her, to let him keep her safe, to let him make her his. For tonight. And the next night. And the one after that.
How could he make a kiss say all that?
He opened his mouth, teasing hers to open too. He delved his tongue into her, tasting her. His need heightened as she clenched at his waist, pulling his shirt from its tuck. She ran her hands under the fabric.
He stepped back, not quite releasing her from his kiss, to wrench off his shirt. He needed to feel her skin against his. Needed inside her. He bent slightly, wrapping one arm low under her lush ass and the other at the nape of her neck. He lifted her. “Wrap your legs around me.”
She obeyed. Her breasts pillowed against his chest. Her wetness smeared against his belly and his cock jumped. Goddess, that was what his fucking pants were blocking him from.
He sent a stream of vibes with a hard, fast hum toward the bedspread. The blankets and top sheet flew off as if they’d grown wings. He cast a quick glance at the remaining sheet and threw down another spell, plastering the bed with a solid layer of his vibes. Goddess only knew how clean the sheets were in a place like this.
He laid her down on the bed, her legs falling open. He swallowed hard at the sight and dropped to his knees. He pressed a kiss onto her inner thigh. Her chest rose with a deep breath, a smile playing across her lips.
He unfastened his jeans. They were tight and getting more so by the minute as her feminine scent brushed against his nose. He held back the urge to slide inside her. He wanted this to last.
More, he wanted it to be good for her. Hell, he didn’t want to mess this up.
He lowered his head again and pressed a soft kiss to her clit.
She cried out and he kissed her there again, drifting a gentle finger between her lush pink lips. He circled her opening. Her heat surrounded him. “How do you like it, darling?”
“Soft. So soft. Just like that,” she whispered. Her eyes were closed, feet on the bed and her knees bent, soaking up his touch and letting him worship her. He circled his finger again.
Her energy waved over him, like tiny strands in an ocean of desire. He watched her with his mage sense. Short tendrils of power danced on her skin, silky and fine. Her vibes had changed, relaxing even as her body wound tighter and hotter.
He slipped his finger into her passage and she sucked in a breath, her breasts shivering with the move. His cock hardened impossibly at his front row seat to her pleasure.
She arched up into his steady rhythm. Her sparkly, bright eyes opened under his assault. “I want you with me.” Her words were so earnest he almost froze. They echoed his own heart so perfectly, words that he wanted to reflect right back at her but hadn’t any hope she’d feel the same…at least not yet. Still, he wasn’t sure if her words had the same meaning for her as they did for him. He was determined to win more than her body. He’d never known anyone so strong and brave, but the truth was he never would have recognized her for who she was if it hadn’t been for the needle. He would have let her slip right by him. A fierceness roared through him, driving his need for her higher yet.
She scooted farther back onto the bed, moving away from his touch and propping herself on her elbows. “Take off your jeans.”
He c
omplied, stepping out of his pants and she held out her hand, beckoning him onto the bed beside her. He slid over the sheets until he was even with her. Lying back, he threaded his fingers through hers, and helped her over him.
He was so hard his cock stood up off his belly, gripped with a need so tight it hurt. He caught her hips as she lowered herself down on him, slowing with a gasp as they joined together. He fought the urge to close his eyes as her heat surrounded him. He didn’t want to miss any of this.
Forcing himself to stay with her, he stared up at her. Her breasts dangled in front of him and he lifted his head to take her nipple into his mouth. She cried out, lifting her hips, stretching the connection between them until only the tip of his cock was left in her. He held her there tight, his hands clutching the back of her hips, the edge of her lush ass, and guided her down again. “My sweet firefly.”
Mara danced her hips against his with an ancient rhythm as Gregor held her like he’d never let go. The madness of desire spun through her core, tighter and hotter than anything she’d ever felt.
She clutched at his arms. “I don’t want this to end.” The words rang with a hint of fear she didn’t want him to hear.
“This is just the beginning, baby.” He rolled her onto her back, taking the lead on their dance and slowing their pace, forcing her desire to hover a single spin away from the pinnacle.
He pulled back even as he dropped his forehead to hers. “My sweet Mara.” He loomed over her, his cock at her opening and she strained toward it, his heat burning through her until she thought she might ignite.
The sound of her name on his lips held an intimacy, connecting her heart to him, and opening her to a vulnerability she didn’t want, but once stirred up, it wouldn’t be denied. She knew she was his.
He gently thrust his hips, stretching her until they were again fully connected. She wrapped her arms low around his ass and pulled him into her, lifting her hips again and setting a slow rhythm.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “You guide me. Just like that.”
She held onto him, her fingers clenching against the muscles of his backside, moving their bodies to the tempo of her desire.
Need wrapped around her and heightened until her passion saturated her skin. Her core burst in pleasure. She cried out, her toes curling.
His shout followed as he spilled into her. Lowering one arm at a time, he lay on her chest, his cock still throbbing against her passage as aftershocks vibrated through her. He pressed a kiss against the bare skin of her shoulder.
When he gently pulled out of her, her core twitched and vibrated all over again. He put a hand on her hip, tugging her into the curve of his body.
She settled, boneless, into his embrace. Her heart swelled with too many emotions to hold…freed by the perfection of his touch and by the connection between them.
She closed her eyes as he dragged her blanket over them, tucking it against her with its protective shields and holding her close all night long.
20
When morning came, they had time for a kiss and nothing more. Gregor had woken early but he’d let her sleep, holding her. His arms had never felt stronger than they did when she was in them.
She’d left for her meeting, on her own, two minutes ago. Last night hadn’t changed anything in that regard. She was still adamant about showing the world she was independent and strong. And alone. He wasn’t sure he understood. Though he’d agreed to wait five minutes before he left, he left now, his pace fast and urgent.
Ten seconds earlier, the tracker spell that he’d put on her with her permission had gone dead. What the hell had happened? Valeska had damn well better be with her, as Mara had claimed she would.
He raced down the back stairs of the bordello—Goddess, he was in a bordello. His invisible pocket, which contained his pack, was attached to his vibes and floating within reach. As he strode past the stage, he wondered if Lincoln’s spell had an expiration date. He headed toward the bar. It was deserted this early, but the air smelled like last night’s booze and smoke.
The bartender sat alone at a table. A tobacco stick rested between her fingers. Its smoke drifted in streams.
“Have you seen Mara?” he demanded. Thanks to Cecilia’s tracker—he still hadn’t confessed that part—he knew where she was, but where the hell had his spell gone?
The bartender narrowed her eyes. “Have you seen Mara?” Her glare held so much power that he had to rein in his instinct to free his vibes, ready to defend himself. “Have you truly seen her, warrior mage whose songs have been claimed?”
“How did you know that?” he snapped.
She put a finger to her lips. “Shh. Secrets are best spoken in soft voices.” She leaned forward. “And I know all the secrets.” She took a hard inhale from the tobacco stick as if it offered a necessary strength to bear those secrets. “Mara comes to the West to be used by higher powers like everyone else. Like you, like me, even Valeska. And there’s nothing you can do about it…nothing you can do to stop it. You can’t hide from fate. Believe me. I keep trying. I keep failing.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Well, good morning, you handsome stud.” The madame strode in wearing a white corset, white dress slacks, and matching high heels. She spared a suspicious look for the bartender and then pivoted back to him. “I must meet the man who’s caught my Mara’s attention.” She stopped too close to him.
He held his ground. “And you are the woman who forced Mara to dance in exchange for shelter.”
“Oh my, I can feel all those vibes you’ve got simmering under there. Maybe Mara was the privileged one last night instead of the other way around.” She tilted her head. “I like the marks on your neck. Naturally, the girl would find herself a glister-marked man. I’m not sure you left your lover satisfied though. She left earlier than I expected. She’s not coming back.”
He knew that. They had plans to meet outside the mill.
She smiled. “But if you’re in need of attention….” She slid her hand over his groin.
He grabbed her wrist, pushing her away as a blast of her power hit him. He nearly staggered under its force before it disappeared. What the hell was that? Some kind of test to see if he could handle it? “Madame, you overstep.” His words crackled with his power.
“Habit.” She shrugged. “I always have business on my mind.” She took her bartender’s tobacco stick and sucked on it hard. Smoke curled to the ceiling. “You should know that I value Mara above all others. Truly,” she added as he raised his eyebrow. “She’s at the mill. You should chase after her. Do you know where it is? Four blocks west.”
No, it wasn’t. He fought not to react. He knew damn well the mill was east of here. The madame’s vibes didn’t waver with her lie. She had to be a sorceress.
And for whatever reason, she didn’t want him to find Mara. He bet she was the one who’d erased his tracker spell. He had no idea how she’d managed it. Nor did he have time for an interrogation.
She smiled. “I wish you Luck, monk mage. He’s on your side.” Laughing at her own joke, she stroked her finger down the side of his neck.
He didn’t knock her away. He didn’t blast her with a spell. He didn’t break her fingers…though all three occurred to him. Refusing to give her the pleasure of his reaction, he didn’t even ask how the hell she knew his mage type.
With a curt nod to the bartender, he strode out of the house. The madame’s power still lingered around him. He wanted to shower. Maybe he could find a cleansing potion at the train station.
He pulled out the tracker. The device was designed and manufactured by a Non-mage mobster who ran his men like a small army in the slums of Rallis Territory’s capital city. The man doled out his technology for exorbitant sums to the army, police, and apparently Power United.
Mara’s dot was due east. Gregor paced down the street to her location.
Thompson Mill claimed almost an entire city block, a four-story brick building. Two guard
s stood outside the front door. Was that normal or because of Mara? Valeska was nowhere to be seen. But the tracker indicated Mara was right where she was supposed to be, inside the mill.
Gregor strode down an alley and found a secluded spot to dart behind the building. It wasn’t hard. The mill’s fence was already slashed and pulled open toward the back of the lot. He ducked in. The place was empty. No cars, bikes, or horses lined the back lot, no employees on break, no shipments of fabric coming in and out. No boats on the river beyond the lot. It was as if someone had swept the place clean for him, except for the fishy scent sharp against his nose.
He opened his mage sense. Again, no whisper of power lurked. He edged along the back of the building. Large windows lined the wall, most likely the offices where Mara was. Farther down the wall, the windows were high up and wide—the factory floor, he guessed.
Overgrown bushes lined the back wall of the factory. He crouched behind them, beneath the first set of windows. His invisible pocket journeyed beside him. He double-checked the weapons lining his belt. Three knives, two stop-‘em-dead potions, and his gun. He stretched his mage sense wider. Bits of sound waved through his vibes—the river’s slap against the bank, the harsh hum of the weaving machines, the shouts of the workers.
“You should consider sending a normal the next time, Miss Rand.” The man spoke from inside the building.
The pair was in the office above him.
“I thought we’d passed the formal part of this relationship. I used to be Mara.”
“It’s not safe for sorceresses here anymore. Even a normal like me has heard that rumor. Although if I weren’t in the weaving business, I might not have paid attention. Hire a courier next time.”
“That wasn’t an option,” Mara’s voice was calm and smooth, every inch the confident businesswoman.
