by Keri Arthur
“There are lots of men in dangerous jobs—cops, firemen, and soldiers, just to name a few—and they still allow themselves to love, and be loved.”
“But part of the power of a muerte is the fact that he has no family—and no loved ones—to fear for. There is no one in his life that can be used as a pawn in whatever game might be in play.”
“So what about when you stop being a muerte?”
“You don’t ever stop,” he said, amusement in his voice even as his fingers lightly brushed my nipple. “Generally, you’re just stopped.”
“Oh, come on, there has to be at least one muerte who has lived to a ripe old age.” God, it was amazing how normal my voice sounded considering my insides were all quivery and my knees were threatening to give way under the assault of that simple caress.
Time, I thought, to start causing some havoc myself.
I slipped my hand from his pocket, and moved up to the waist of his jeans, finding the edge of the material and slipping my fingers underneath, cupping his butt. And lord, it was a good butt—well shaped and firm.
“A good half of those trained don’t even live to see their middle years,” he commented, his tone warm and laced with amusement. “And you are making it impossible for me to walk.”
My gaze skimmed down his body and came to rest on the rather impressive bulge in his jeans. “That,” I commented cheekily, “doesn’t look large enough to be causing a problem.”
“Maybe not, but the fact that your arm is down the rear of my jeans and is tightening the material everywhere else is.”
“So are you saying I need to remove my hand?”
“No, I’m saying the house in the trees just ahead is looking mighty perfect for a break-in.”
I laughed. “And suddenly Death is sounding a little harried.”
“Death is as horny as hell.” The smile teasing his lips did all sorts of happy things to my body. “Shall we move along a little quicker?”
“Well, you can hurry all you like, but I need a bath first.”
“And a good hair-washing. It’s looking a little frazzled after being under that hat.” He glanced at me over his shoulder, his grin all cheek. “I’ll do that, if you like. I’m very good at it.”
I didn’t doubt that he was. And at other things, as well.
I let him tug me the rest of the way up the hill, our footsteps leaving sandy indentations behind.
But despite my eagerness to experience what this man had to offer, part of me wanted to delay that moment as long as possible. Maybe it was simply an urge to savor something I knew would be very intense, and yet very brief. There might be a strong attraction between Damon and me, but he’d already made it clear he wasn’t going to stick around for long.
But if that was long enough to find and stop the people behind the cleansings, then that would be enough. For Rainey and for me.
I ignored the mocking voice deep inside that called me a liar and studied the house looming through the trees. There weren’t any cars sitting in the driveway and there were no lights on. There was no sound or movement, either, but given the time of night, that wasn’t entirely surprising.
“Can you sense anyone?” I asked.
“Nope. But I want you to wait here while I go check the place out.”
“Damon, I can—”
“Yeah, yeah, heard it all before. Just humor me.” He removed his hand from my shoulder, then cupped my cheeks and dropped a gentle kiss on my lips. “Consider that a down payment for later.”
“Maybe. But only after the promised bath and hair-washing.”
“Deal,” he said, then turned and disappeared quickly into the night and shadows.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Except for the occasional purr of an engine going past on the nearby highway and the haunting hoot of an owl, the night was quiet. I couldn’t see any other houses and there were none of the usual suburban sounds—no dogs barking, cats squawking, the rattle of street sweepers or garbage trucks doing their rounds. It would have been easy to believe that we were alone—and safe—but I knew better than that. These men—whoever they were—were dangerous, and they’d be more pissed off than ever now that we’d helped Coral escape. And they’d have to know we were involved with that—especially if they questioned the neighbors and learned that a big black dragon had been seen. The cops might dismiss the story, but our hunters wouldn’t.
I glanced at my watch and saw that only a few minutes had crept by. I sighed in frustration and shifted my weight again, wanting to feel the warmth and security of having four walls around me. Even if that security was a lie.
Another few minutes crept by, then awareness washed over me and heat prickled my skin. Damon’s shape formed out of the darkness, becoming clearer as he approached.
“That’s a very neat trick,” I said.
“And a handy one.” He wrapped his hand around mine and tugged me forward. “The house is ours, and the neighbors are far enough away that we should be able to light the fire and do some cooking. I won’t risk turning the lights on, though.”
“We don’t need lights when we have our own,” I commented. “What about my bath?”
The grin that flashed over his shoulder had my blood surging. Labeling it sexy didn’t do it justice by half. “All taken care off. I heated the water to boiling, so it should be just right by the time you step into it.”
“What about the second of my needs?” I said, then added with a grin, “And that would be food, in case you were wondering.”
His grin just grew. “Don’t worry, all your needs will be met. And the pantry is well stocked.”
Yeah, I thought impishly. Noticed that before. Even if I’d said otherwise.
We moved beyond the cover of the trees. The house was a pretty, two-story clapboard, painted a bright blue. I scanned the outside but couldn’t see anything resembling security. “Was it hard to break in?”
He shook his head. “They’ve got deadbolts on the front and back doors, and locks on the windows, but the patio door was just a plain catch. And the screen door didn’t have security mesh, just ordinary wire.”
He opened the door and ushered me inside. The room beyond was cold, but flickers of warm gold danced across the walls in the next room, providing enough light to see by. We’d entered into a large kitchen and breakfast area. I walked through to the next room and over to the fire. I might be able to create flames of my own, but there was something intrinsically satisfying about standing in front of an old-fashioned fireplace, warming the chill from your bones. I opened the backpack to check the netbook, then dropped it onto a nearby chair and held out my fingers to the flames.
But Damon caught my hand and pulled me away. “Enough with the fire,” he said crisply. “You have a carefully prepared bath waiting.”
I snorted softly, even though anticipation tightened my insides and made the simple act of breathing seem all the more difficult. “And what’s so careful about turning on a tap and heating the water?”
“This,” he said, and opened the door.
The bathroom itself was nothing out of the ordinary, but the bath was one of those huge, free-standing claw-foot things, filled almost to overflowing with bubbles. I gave him a grin and a quick kiss, then stripped and walked toward the bath. The moonlight filtering in from the window beyond gave me enough light to see by, but left enough shadows that I wasn’t overly self-conscious about my scars.
He followed and caught my hand, holding me steady as I stepped into the bath. The water was just shy of boiling, and I sighed in pleasure as the heat ran from my toes to my legs then spread out through the rest of me, warming my body almost as well as my fire did.
I slid my fingers from his, then dipped into the water, ducking briefly underneath the bubbles before letting my head rest against the bath’s end. I waved a hand, splashing water and rainbow bubbles across the tiles as I said, “You may now work your magic on my hair.”
He chuckled lightly and moved aroun
d behind me. There was a pause, then the whisper of clothes being removed. Though I hungered to see him naked, I wanted to enjoy the sensual experience he was offering more, so I just lay there and waited.
Cold liquid touched my scalp, then his fingers were in my hair, massaging the shampoo into fragrant-smelling foam. I closed my eyes and sighed in pleasure. I loved it when hairdressers massaged my scalp, but this experience was on another plane altogether.
Because this experience would ultimately lead to something much more satisfying.
He rinsed my hair then repeated the process with the conditioner, the press of his fingers against my head so wonderful that I murmured a protest when he finally stopped. He laughed softly and picked up a comb, gently sweeping away the tangles before rinsing my hair again.
“Kneel,” he commanded, his tone one that would brook no arguments.
Not that I was likely to offer any when he had me in such a relaxed state. I knelt, the water lapping at my waist, watching as he squeezed some gel into his large, strong hands. His gaze followed the droplets of water running down my body, then rose to linger on my breasts and puckering nipples. Lust stirred the air, caressing my skin as sweetly as an actual touch. Then his gaze came to mine, and the smile that curved his lips and crinkled the corners of his dark eyes just about sent my senses into overload.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Totally beautiful.”
“No one has ever called me that,” I said, blinking rapidly against the sudden, stupid sting of tears. Not just because of the words themselves, but because I believed them. It wasn’t a compliment thrown out casually for the purpose of lovemaking. I’d heard enough of those over the years to know when someone actually meant it.
“Then they are blind fools,” he said. “Now, close your eyes and turn around.”
I did, my breath catching as I waited for his touch, my body trembling when it finally arrived. Gently, carefully, he started massaging, beginning at the base of my neck then sweeping down my shoulders, the pressure just enough to ease away any tension that remained from a day of escapes and close calls.
He applied more gel to his hands then continued the sweeping caress, down my spine and sides, and across my butt. I ached for him to touch me more intimately, and yet I wanted to delay that moment for as long as possible. There was something very sweet about the agony of anticipation.
He grabbed a sponge from the basket at the side of the bath and dipped it into the water, then pressed it into my back, working the gel into such a lather that it dribbled down my spine and left me humming in pleasure.
“Turn around,” he said eventually.
I was only too happy to comply. He was kneeling in front of me, his body covered with droplets of water and soap that scooted down his well-defined abs and stomach, pooling briefly around the tip of his hard cock before moving on down his legs. I wanted to explore those glistening trails, wanted to linger where they had lingered.
I reached out, but he caught my hands and said, “No touching allowed. I have to finish respecting every inch of you first.”
I grinned and let my hand drop. “Then by all means, continue.”
He soaped his hands again, then gently spread the lather over my breasts and belly. My nipples hardened almost painfully and a shudder that was all pleasure rolled through me. His soapy caress slid all the way down to my hips, his thumbs gently—and all too briefly—teasing my clit. Then his fingers slipped upward again until his large hands cupped my breasts. I shuddered in enjoyment—a sensation that grew when he pinched my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and gently began to pull and twist. Desire grew, until I was torn between wanting the delicious torment to go on and the need to feel his whole body on me, and in me.
Again his caress slid downward. My breath hitched, expectation thrumming, as his fingers teased the inside of my thighs. I spread my legs wider and softly, tantalizingly, his caress brushed me. I groaned, arching into the press of his hand, wanting more than just teasing. He laughed softly, his lips brushing mine as his fingers delved deeper, pushing into me, sending waves of pleasure lapping across my body. I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, exploring his mouth hungrily as his fingers probed and teased and delighted.
Then he pulled away so suddenly it left me dizzy. “Stand and face the wall,” he ordered, voice harsh with the rawness of desire.
I stood, trembling with anticipation and need. He rinsed the soap from my body then stepped into the bath behind me, the hardness of his erection nestled firmly against my butt. I pushed against him, loving the feel of him, but wanting more. His hands slid up my back then around to my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, caressing them, until every inch of me was shuddering and the ache was a fire that burned through every fiber of my being.
“Enough,” I muttered, the words little more than a pant of air. “I need you. Now.”
“Good,” he growled, and touched the back of my feet with his toes.
I shifted, widening my stance and bracing my hands against the wall. He gripped my hips then thrust inside me, the heat of him piercing and delicious and oh-so-right. A sharp mix of longing and need ran through me as we began to move in rhythm—slowly at first, then gradually faster. Pleasure spiraled, until every muscle felt ready to shatter and I couldn’t even breathe, the intensity was so great.
His breathing became harsh, his tempo more urgent. His fierceness pushed me into a place where only sensation existed, and then he pushed me beyond it.
My orgasm hit, and I couldn’t think, only feel. And what I felt was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, because what I felt was a connection that went beyond flesh and pleasure. Far beyond it.
And that scared the hell out of me. But it also made me hungry for more.
Well, no one had ever accused me of being sensible.
For several minutes neither of us moved, our panting breaths filling the silence and our bodies still gloriously locked together. When he finally withdrew, I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly.
“How do you think I did on the whole respect thing?” he said, his lazy smile that of a man who knows full well that he’s done a good job.
I pretended to consider the question, then pressed up against him a little harder, delighted to feel he was already half erect again. “Well, as these things go, it wasn’t half bad.”
“Not half bad? Woman, you are crazy!”
I grinned. “No, I just remember a promise to respect the whole of my body, and it seems to me that half of me missed out.”
“Ah yes. The toes and legs,” he murmured. “Well, I guess we’d better go find a bed and tend to that problem immediately.”
We did, and he did.
And it was even better the second time around.
The fading moonlight played across Damon’s stain, highlighting the rich blues and deep purples in the black leathery strip that wove down his spine. I traced its journey with my fingertips, loving the cool, almost snakelike feel of the skin, which was such a sharp contrast to the heat of the rest of his body.
My fingertips reached the end of his stain, and I let them rest there at the base of his spine as my gaze followed the curve of his butt and traveled down the long length of his athletic legs to his feet. I’d never considered feet and toes sexy before, but this man was rapidly changing my mind. Like everything else about him, they were long, quietly powerful, and elegant.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” Damon said, his voice muffled by the depths of the pillow wrapped around his head.
“I’m not used to sleeping beside someone,” I said. “The heat woke me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
I traced the curve of his butt with my fingers and gently teased at the junction of his legs. He twitched and heat stirred, bathing me with its warmth. “What? That you got so hot that it woke me?”
“No, not that. Though you have dragon blood, so the heat shouldn’t worry you.” He shifted his
legs a little, allowing my fingers to slide between his thighs. “I meant that I find it hard to believe you’re not used to sleeping with someone. Especially given you seem to have an insatiable appetite when it comes to sex.”
I grinned. “Consider it a case of making full use of available opportunities before the drought begins again.”
“I don’t believe that, either.”
“A plain brown draman who can’t fly isn’t much of a catch in a sky filled with rainbow fliers.”
He shifted the pillow off his head and fixed me with his dark gaze. “There is nothing plain about you, my girl. Why the hell would you even think something like that?”
“Because it’s true.” I shifted my gaze from his, a little unsettled—and surprised—by the annoyance so evident there. “So, what’s our plan?”
“To sleep until dawn, then get up and have a shower.”
I wrapped my fingers around his balls and squeezed lightly. Tension rippled through him and the caress of heat got stronger, fueling the fires deep within me. “I meant, where do we go next? Do we try to find Deca Dent?”
“First, we read those notes of yours. Then we head for the club. Although we’ll probably have to scout it first, and see who, exactly, is hanging around.”
“Do you think the man with the cultured voice is the brains behind the operation?” I shifted my fingers again, scooting them underneath to tease the base of his penis. It was rock hard, thick with heat, and all I wanted to do was take him inside me again.
“I don’t know.” He shifted suddenly, grabbing my arms and twisting me around, reversing our positions so that he was lying on top of me. “And there is another major problem we have to worry about.”
“And what might that be?” I said, grinning as he nudged my legs wider and settled in between them.
“The fact that you don’t seem willing to get out of bed.”
The heat of him began to slide inside me, filling me, stretching me. And it felt so good I sighed in sheer pleasure.
He chuckled softly and added, “I do so like a woman who’s easily pleased.”
