Jacob

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “It’s our job, Jacob,” she reminded him firmly. “Our job to enforce. Our job to hunt the Transformed and destroy them, and our job to battle necromancers that get in our way. And Jacob”—she stepped up until she was chest to chest with him, as in his face as she could possibly get—“the more you mollycoddle me and shield me and get freaking chivalrous with me, the faster I’m going to get my damned head blown off! Is that what you want? ’Cause I can easily—”

  “Of course not!” he exploded, the horror of the very thought shuddering through his dark eyes.

  “Then stop it!”

  “Okay! I am sorry!”

  “Don’t be sorry. Be smart. Be a partner, not just a protector. I’m going to be at your back, Jacob. Do you want me walking around looking at the pretty birdies when I should be prepared and…and whatever it is I need to be? Because I don’t want that. I don’t want to die…and I don’t want you to die even more.” She exhaled in a hard huff, her hair flying upward like a geyser. “Anyway, they kinda go together now, you know?”

  “Yes, I know.” Jacob reached for her face, his fingertips seeking refuge in her hairline, his thumbs at the corners of her frowning lips. “Would it help if I told you I am a little rusty when it comes to having a relationship?”

  “A little? They can hear your hinges squeaking all the way on Mars,” she said irreverently.

  He laughed, lowering his head to kiss the frown from her lips and the wry look from her upturned eyes. His lips had barely drifted away from her butterfly lashes when his affections were interrupted by a sudden yawn. He shook his head, blinking his eyes to refocus.

  “You’re tired.”

  “I have not slept well these past few days.”

  “Jacob, I’m having that urge to smack you again,” she warned. “I’m draining you, aren’t I? I’m…I’m sucking the energy right out of you.”

  “Yes, well, this is true,” he admitted. “But it is like you said, little flower. You suck in a good way.” He chuckled when she made a face at him. “I am serious. Do you realize that we can make love now without causing England to drop into the ocean?”

  She hadn’t thought about that. A sly smile drifted over her sexy little mouth.

  “This too is true,” she agreed, sliding her hands up his chest, over his shoulders and into the soft hair at the back of his neck. “I’d noticed you were avoiding the more physical side of this relationship.”

  “Only for your protection, Bella,” he murmured softly, his eyes devouring the warm invitation that was blossoming over the way she held her body. With a modification of a single thought, she changed from being reproachful and righteous to silky and sensual. He would never get over that. “I did not want to end all of our lovemaking with fighting the latest necromancer to ferret us out because my desire for you is so powerful, so uncontrollable that…that…”

  “The Earth moves?” she asked archly.

  “Cute. Yes, brat.” He reached to pinch her bottom and she giggled.

  “Um, I do have to remind you, though…” She bit her bottom lip, pausing to sweep obviously hungry eyes over his entire torso. “I could very well be the one who makes the Earth move now.”

  “Oh. Oh, damn, I forgot about that.” She felt his hands flex at her waist. He leaned a little closer to her, clearly drawing in her scent, which he truly seemed to enjoy so very much. He sighed deeply, reaching to nuzzle her neck with his face. “To stay away from you takes a monumental effort, little flower. I cannot even express to you how difficult these past days have been for me.”

  “Nor can I express it to you,” she murmured. “I was beginning to think all you were interested in doing to my body was work it to death in training with Elijah and you. Of course, I picked up some fairly graphic thoughts from you that assured me otherwise.” Isabella moved toward his lips with a soft feint of her mouth, watching him move in natural preparation for the kiss that did not come. She smiled teasingly into his eyes.

  “And those were the ones I was not trying to hide,” he returned, touching his fingers to her cheek, skimming her throat and collarbone, down the swell of her breast, but pulling away before reaching the sensitive tip. She swayed forward a little, her body wanting to chase after the hand that had made the unfulfilled promise. She recovered quickly, mischief and sultry intent flaming sharply in the deepening purple of her eyes.

  “Regardless,” she said, continuing the mild conversation, “it doesn’t change the fact that we’ve seen what trouble I can cause with this power at my untrained fingertips. And if I were to describe how utterly mindless I become under your touch, it would be very clear that making love with you could be an even more dangerous prospect for us.”

  “Utterly mindless?” he asked, watching and feeling as she swept her fingers gently over the expanse of his chest, a teasing, barely there touch that drew his every nerve ending into rapt attention.

  “Mmm,” she affirmed. “Especially when you put your mouth on me.” She leaned in to put her lips against the strong column of his neck. She felt him swallow convulsively. “I love what you do to me with your mouth,” she whispered against his skin.

  Jacob drew in a sharp breath, desire curling stridently through his entire body and soul.

  “Bella,” he whispered, his throat tight with the heat she sent flushing through him.

  “I’ve been wondering,” she remarked in an offhanded manner as her fingers began to slip the buttons of his shirt out of their closures. She finished her thought by pushing him back onto the bed, her mouth touching the skin she was exposing. He felt her curious little tongue sweep over him. He might have gasped under the sensation the simple touch caused, but she beat him to it. She sat up, looking down at him with an expression of shock and wonder. “Jacob, I can—” She broke off, closed her eyes, and took a slow searching breath in through her nose. “Is this what you mean?” she asked, her voice filled with erotic delight. “When you say you love my scent?”

  Jacob could barely breathe, never mind respond, as he watched her use his abilities to arouse herself.

  “Yes, honey,” he managed at last.

  She made a delighted sound, her hands eagerly pulling his shirt farther open so she could bend her mouth to him once more, this time adding his acute senses to her natural tactile curiosity. She tasted him eagerly, thoroughly, instantly finding the best places to stimulate him on his neck, collarbone, and chest. She wriggled down his body, her industrious mouth sliding over his belly. Jacob could do nothing but weave his fingers into her silky hair, clutching it in his flexed fists.

  “Bella…” he groaned as she nuzzled him torturously with her sweet, soft face, sexy lips, and hot tongue. Her nimble fingers were at his fly, freeing the closures before she lifted away from him and helped him remove the garments blocking her enthusiastic exploration. He lay back once more and she was immediately above him, kissing his mouth, reflecting the pleasure she was experiencing.

  Then her mouth was back on his skin, inexhaustibly seeking his taste, his gratification. Her fingertips skimmed over his hips and thighs, scouting ahead of her inquisitive lips. Her hair was falling wildly all around him, and he reached to sweep it aside, unable to resist the lure of watching her exploration of his body. He felt her breath coasting over his arousal, his body twitching with his anticipation. She touched her tongue to him, her lips following, her incredible mouth drawing him into its wet warmth. Watching her do this had to be the most erotic thing Jacob had ever experienced in all the centuries of his life. She was perfect. Even as she ministered to him, she was becoming heavily aroused herself. He felt it in the tremble of her body, in the soft, intriguing sounds that vibrated out of her throat and against his aroused flesh. He could see it in the heated violet gaze she turned up to him.

  With mutual action, Jacob and Isabella drew her up the length of his body. She straddled his hips boldly, rising up and stripping off the nightshirt she was wearing. She flung it aside and quickly brought both hands to rub fiercely over his che
st and belly and under herself to where he thrust hard and hot against the juncture of her thighs. Jacob made a low sound, half arousal and half satisfaction at her bold sexual behavior. He’d known she’d be like this. He’d told himself several times. But nothing could have prepared him for how it would make him feel, how it would burn him like a brand for all time.

  She was in his mind, reading his every thought and desire. Anything he wanted to feel, to experience, she provided it a second after he thought of it. She was wickedly thorough, driving him completely insane. And just as the thought that he couldn’t bear her sweet erotic torture for one moment longer crossed his mind, she slid herself up the length of him, tilted her hips just right, and took him into her eager body in one swift movement.

  Her delighted cry drowned out his, the sound a rich, operatic note of staggering pleasure.

  “Jacob,” she groaned. “You feel so wonderful!”

  Jacob reached for her hips, trying to anchor himself in the middle of the storm of sensation she was bombarding him with. She flexed herself around him and an expletive erupted past his lips.

  “What does that mean?” she demanded, punctuating the request with a forward and back rock of her body that thrust him even deeper into her.

  “It means…” he gasped, trying very hard to be coherent as she moved on him once more, trapping him as deeply in her hungry body as she possibly could. “It means you have stolen my thoughts and my soul and put them at the mercy of your pleasure.”

  “Mmm, I think I like the sound of that,” she purred softly, moving in beautiful, torturous ways that assured her the theft was utterly complete. He watched her creamy skin flush with perspiration and her own climbing arousal. In her mind he felt how much pleasure every reaction she drew from him gave her. Her eyes closed, her hips riding him in a decadent writhing rhythm, she flushed hotter and hotter around him, coating him with the slick nectar of her body. He felt her driving herself up to her own peak, using the fit of his body with as much glorious skill as she could muster.

  “Bella, you will be my death,” Jacob gasped, his hips instinctively matching her wicked movements, his thoughts reaching for what she was feeling.

  She was so close, every molecule vibrating with the pent-up fervor within her. Then he felt the flash of trepidation that shot through her. She was almost lost and suddenly afraid to let go. He knew why, but he’d be damned if she would deny herself her own pleasure while he took his. He reached for her sensitive body, shocking her as his thumb came to caress her intimately. He found the pleasure spot unerringly, and the combination of the touch and the hard thrust of his sheathed flesh was too much to resist.

  She threw her head back, crying out at the top of her voice as every muscle in her body convulsed. In that moment he was overwhelmed by a vise of muscles that embraced him, by the honeyed heat that was beyond any conceivable temperature as it poured over him. His release was violent, explosive, and perfect. It seemed to last an eon, and then too short of a moment.

  Bella collapsed on top of him, every muscle in her body feeling like rubber, unable to take any further commands from her. Jacob wrapped her up in his embrace, his face burrowing into her rich hair and his harsh breath still far from being regulated. He remained connected to her, and he was positive she wouldn’t have relinquished him in any event. She was panting heavily from her exertion, her face burrowing into his strong neck, all of her trembling with the delightful aftershocks of passion.

  “I will never feel anything like that again,” she told him breathlessly.

  “Baby,” he murmured in her delicate ear, “give me a few minutes and that wicked mouth of yours and I promise you, you will feel it again.”

  “Jacob!” She laughed, trying to scold him unsuccessfully. Then her head popped up so she could see his eyes. “The Earth didn’t move!”

  “Damn, I must be losing my touch,” he teased, reaching to flick an impudent tongue over one pert nipple.

  “Jacob, you know what I mean.” She giggled. “Stop that!”

  “Stop what? Stop this?”

  Isabella gasped, surprised to realize she wasn’t as exhausted as she’d previously thought. And neither was he. The evidence of that was stirring within her very own body.

  “And you make fun of my libido?” she demanded.

  “Perish the thought. I adore your libido.”

  “Somehow I’m—Jacob, I’m trying to talk here!”

  “And I am trying to shut you up,” he taunted, repeating the sly touch again.

  “Have better uses for my mouth, do you?” she queried impishly, her eyes sparkling with humor.

  “Dozens of them. Shall I list them?”

  “Oh no. Let me.”

  “Tell me something?”

  “What?” Jacob asked, enjoying the feel of her hair beneath his hand as she nuzzled her cheek against his chest in a warm, kittenish way.

  “No one ever explained to me why the necromancer wanted to know your name.”

  Jacob went very still, and Isabella allowed him a moment to gather his thoughts. She knew it was a very significant question, even if she didn’t exactly know why.

  “In many cultures it is believed that to give your name to someone is to give them power over you. For a Demon, it is a literal truth. A Demon’s name is the key ingredient in a Summoning. Without it, a necromancer cannot Summon him, cannot control him, and has no means of gaining power over him.”

  Isabella lifted her cheek from his chest so she could look into his dark eyes.

  “But everyone knows your name, Jacob. Any of the captured Demons could tell the necromancers your name.”

  “No. I am the only one who knows my name.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Jacob sat up, sliding back to lean against the headboard of the bed while she shifted position, curling herself around his raised knee, setting her chin on it and maintaining eye contact with him.

  “When a Demon child is born, there is a naming ceremony,” he began. “There are only four people present. The mother, the father, and the Siddah. These four people are the only ones who ever know a Demon’s true name.” Jacob paused a minute, reaching out to stroke a thumb over the rise of her soft cheek. “Think of it like…riot control?” He shook his head, knowing it was an inadequate explanation. “Though it is not a crime to come into power, the methods we must use to keep control of newly fledged Demons require both parents and Siddah to know the young Demon’s name. It is a tool that allows one to quell power, to soothe and to settle the young one’s mind. It helps them focus enough to gain control themselves. It is also handy when they get a little too seneta yu va.” He tried to think of the equivalent and laughed. “Too big for their britches.”

  “So your name is not Jacob?”

  “Of course it is. You may actually find this a little ironic, but after we are given our power names, parents choose a call name, like Jacob and Noah and Elijah, and they usually select the name from—”

  “The Bible!”

  “Yes.” Jacob grinned. “You see, Demons have a great respect for the Christian religions. As you know, they gifted us with a peace and freedom that will never be matched. Choosing our children’s call names from the Bible is to us an act of tribute.”

  “I think that’s wonderful.”

  “It is an intimate tradition for expecting parents to spend an entire day selecting a call name. This is done with just the mother and the father, closed away from all the world. It begins with them recalling the first time they saw one another, the story of how each fell in love with the other, the foundation on which the child was conceived.”

  “It sounds positively beautiful, Jacob,” Isabella whispered. She turned her eyes away from his briefly, and Jacob realized she was hiding a thought from him.

  “What is it, little flower?”

  She looked back, drawing her lower lip between her teeth in a telltale sign of apprehension.

  “Jacob, according to the prophecy, you and I will h
ave a child one day.”

  Jacob went very still, his breath locking in his chest as he was overcome with an inexplicable sensation of fear.

  “Does this disturb you?” he asked as levelly as he could manage.

  Isabella wondered if he realized how transparent he was in that moment. Sometimes Jacob seemed to forget that she was always a part of his thoughts. He was practically terrified that she disliked the idea of having a child with him.

  “Well, frankly it does,” she began, turning her face away so she could conceal her smile of mischief.

  “I see.”

  “I’m glad that you do. It’s unthinkable and I expect you to remedy the situation.”

  Jacob was speechless. He felt his heart turning over painfully in his breast.

  Then she turned back, her eyes bright with merriment. “So how do Demons get married anyway?”

  Jacob sucked in a breath at last, his skin flushing with the sensation of rapid-fire emotional tidal waves.

  “Isabella…” he said, his tone dangerously full of reprimand. “Isabella Russ, are you teasing me?”

  “Why no, Jacob,” she declared, all innocence. “I was asking you to make an honest woman of me. If you think that’s some kind of a joke, then I think it’s time I went home.”

  She made as if to get off the bed, but he grabbed hold of her and tossed her back down into the softness of the comforter, looming over her dangerously.

  “I am going to thrash you,” he hissed, giving her a shake by the shoulders. “You delight in torturing me!”

  “No more or less than you have delighted in torturing me!”

  “Isabella!” He growled her name but ended it with a laugh he couldn’t hope to contain.

  “So are you going to answer me or not?”

  “Did you ask me a question?” he rejoined.

  “I believe I asked you to marry me.”

  “Ah…well, I do not recall you getting down on one knee or anything,” he retorted.

  “Look, I may be a modern woman, but that’s going too far. Next you’ll be wanting a diamond ring.”