Prophecy Mates

by Mary Hughes

  Mine.

  Heat fooshed through Zoe, propelling her, rocket-like, between them. Fists on hips, she glared down at the woman.

  The rich beeyatch dared to glare back. Like Daniel was fair game.

  Instinct grabbed Zoe by the throat. She raised her upper lip in a grin that was less smile, more wolf. She may even have let her canines lengthen.

  Miss Classypants paled and edged away. When Zoe growled softly, she scurried off.

  Scowling, Zoe turned back to find Daniel frowning at her.

  Crap on a claw. Humans didn’t know about shifters, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t sense when things were off. And Daniel, as she’d already remembered, was quicker than most.

  Immediate distraction was in order.

  “Where were we? Oh, yes, checking out the ballroom. A sashed-up jerk caused a ruckus over here.” She hurried off to the hors d’oeuvre table. After a moment, he followed, and she continued. “He’d gotten handsy with a guest. I tossed his ass out. Everything else was good, so I decided it was time to socialize. I then met a man in a ripped leather mask calling himself Zeus—also a handsy sort.” She touched her throat, remembering.

  “Did he bother you?” Gaze on her hand, his snarl promised retribution.

  “No.” She dropped her hand, fast. “Of course not. Then you came in. You know what happened from there.”

  His eyes rose and his color with it, showing he did indeed remember.

  “Maybe I didn’t drop the key. Maybe it was an accident. The crowd jostled me before you and I…you know.” Had the hottest damned kiss of my life. “The key could have gotten bumped out by someone knocking into me.”

  Daniel shook his head. “You’d have heard it. What isn’t hardwood dance floor is thin carpet over concrete, and your hearing is extraordinary.”

  Zoe’s breath froze. Did he know she was a wolf? “What are you implying?”

  “Not implying. Saying.”

  The only thing that stopped her heart from seizing was the fact he headed toward the parchment case.

  “I think it was deliberate. I think your key was stolen.”

  “Stolen?” Her lungs started working again on a gasp. She followed him. “But the parchment is still there. Why would someone steal the key but not use it?”

  “That case is front and center. People pass it constantly. The key thief can’t unlock the case and take the parchment without being seen.”

  Daniel’s gaze on the prize was as sharp and concentrated as a hawk. Definitely not friendly-dog-like, nor even brotherly. She shivered, revising her estimate of him.

  “So, you think this key thief will try to arrange something so he’s not seen taking the parchment? What, cut the lights? Blind everyone with a smoke bomb?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe he’s planned a getaway and is simply waiting for a prearranged time, when it won’t matter if he’s seen.” He spun to face her. “This handsy Zeus—was he handsy with you? Tell me the truth, Zoe.”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Point him out to me.”

  Her heart beat faster. The thunderclouds in Daniel’s eyes were darker than the mask that limned them.

  Then he added, “His touching you is suspicious.”

  Investigating the key. Not…not whatever she’d thought. Which hopefully wasn’t some cave-wolfie idea that he should fight for her.

  Waving air onto her hot face, she searched the ballroom for the brutal-faced man and his cowl. She found him standing conspicuously far from the parchment case.

  She pointed toward the cheese table. “That’s him. The man in the ripped mask—”

  Slam. Splash. She registered cold and sticky as liquid soaked into her bodice. A startled glance down showed her bosom unhappily rumpled. Her pointing finger curled, almost wilted. Her gaze flicked up.

  Reeling back from her was the lecher she’d tossed out, the sashed-up marquessy guy. How the hell had he gotten back inside? His stick-mask dangled from its ribbon, forgotten, as he stared into his empty glass, because his drink was now all over her—a thousand dollar drink, if his hang-dog expression was any indication.

  Ass.

  She must’ve muttered it under her breath because he stopped mourning his drink to glare at her.

  “Excuse you.” The guy scowled as if she’d gotten in his way instead of him slamming into her. “Watch where you’re pointing next time.” He turned up his snout and wheeled to stalk off.

  “Sorry.” She wanted to grow some claws and slash the guy—or at least his sash—to ribbons. It would’ve been a pleasure to teach him another lesson. But with Daniel watching, having just seen him behave so graciously with the gorgeous classy woman, Zoe could only stand there impotently.

  But then Daniel said, “Just one minute,” grabbed the man’s shoulder, and spun him. “Apologize to the lady.”

  “Lady?” Mr. Sash raised his mask-on-a-stick to sneer through it…at Daniel’s tie. He was just that tall. The marquessy guy adjusted his sneer upward. “Puh-lease. I saw her kissing you. Kissing.” He snorted. “More like a blow job of your tonsils.”

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed like blue sabers. “I said apologize. Now.”

  Zoe recognized the deadly danger in that masked glare. While her wolf approved, the ball was supposed to be classy. She didn’t want her misunderstanding to ruin the atmosphere for her guests. “My Hero, let it go. The Queen of Hearts will see this guy for the ass he is. He won’t get the prize.”

  “If you think I care about that…” Daniel turned a hooded gaze on her. “You’re mistaken, Lady Mystery.”

  The marquessy jerk started to slink away.

  Without even looking, Daniel’s hand shot out and he grabbed the man. “Let’s you and I step outside.”

  “W-wait,” the guy blubbered. “Look at her goose bumps. Don’t you want to do something about it?” As he pointed at Zoe’s breasts, a grin fluttering onto his face. “Abou-tit. Get it? Tit.”

  Howling moon, Mr. Sash was either too drunk to care or a compulsive asshole.

  “Shut it. You get that?”

  Without releasing the guy, Daniel snatched a napkin off a passing waiter’s tray and handed it to her. “For your décolletage.”

  He’d solved her problem with brains. Her wolf grumbled that an alpha would’ve punched out the snooty guy’s lights, but her human side was grateful.

  She dabbed, torn…and uncomfortable about being torn. “Thank you, My Hero. You’re such a help.”

  “Hey. I can help, too.” M’lord Sash snatched the napkin and swabbed her cleavage so enthusiastically a nipple peeked out and waved. Nearby people gaped.

  Zoe swatted the man’s hand away. “Stop that.”

  “Whoa mama. Those things are like basketballs. Are they real?” The guy copped a feel. “They are.”

  She let out an involuntary hiss.

  Before her wolf could throw the guy against the wall—and horrify her rich, elegant guests—Daniel caught the man’s little finger and wrenched up.

  “She said hands off.”

  “Ow-ow-yeowch!” The jerk he fell back a step, napkin dropping, eyes wide.

  Zoe gave a sigh of relief and tucked her breasts away, her offended one throbbing—until she became aware of the tang of testosterone, filling the air in luscious waves. Then everything started to throb.

  Suddenly breathless, she raised her eyes to see Daniel, his jaw jutting, shoulders flared, and fists clenched. His glare at the marquess was so fiery it might have burned the mask’s eyeholes.

  That glare said Mr. Sash was a problem he meant to solve with brawn.

  Her wolf wagged its tail. But her human veins rushed cold. Daniel’s lithe new muscles notwithstanding, he’d been 4F growing up. What if he didn’t know what he was doing physically? What if he got hurt? She’d never forgive herself.

  “My Hero. It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” His voice was a low snarl that cowed even her wolf.

  The marquessy guy trembled visibly. “Wh-what are you goin
g to do?”

  “For daring to paw her? This.” Daniel smashed a fist into the man’s nose.

  The jerk rocked on his heels and fell over into a soundless heap.

  “My Hero.” Zoe stared at Daniel in wonder, sure her eyes in her mask were as big as saucers. Both her wolf and her human were thoroughly impressed. This was definitely not the high school weakling she’d known.

  Her “aw, cute and loyal” burst. This was a dark, dangerous alpha of a man, and she suddenly hungered for him, so much so that she wanted to wrap her legs around his naked hips and beat against him until her thighs were slick and the ache inside her had eased.

  Do it. Deep inside, her wolf howled. Mate with him.

  Wait. Mate? Mate with a human? Zoe’s blood drained from her cheeks, leaving her even more chilled than the spilled drink. She’d courted that disaster once before, in high school, when she hadn’t known any better.

  “Zoe, what’s wrong? You’ve gone pale.” Daniel turned from the marquess, who was rubbing his face and starting to sit up.

  She grabbed the first excuse she could. “I’m cold.” She laid a palm on her sticky, gooseflesh-riddled breasts.

  “I’m an inconsiderate imbecile. You need to dry off.” He snatched up the napkin, covered her breasts, took her hand, and led her away. “Let’s get you someplace private.”

  Private. A jolt of raw desire burned away cold, wet, and any and all caution, and she let herself be led out.

  * * *

  As Daniel led Zoe to the prep room, he concentrated on how cold and uncomfortable she must be in that damp washcloth of a dress instead of the burning in his groin.

  Let’s get you someplace private. Surely he’d only imagined that hot animal gleam in her eye after he’d said the words. But as he led her inside and closed the door, she gave a soft groan, the kind he’d always imagined she’d make when he filled her with himself, over and over.

  He couldn’t be sure who urged whom behind the partition. Who pulled whom flush.

  Who began that smokin’ hot kiss.

  And then it didn’t matter. Their mouths were wild on each other. She overwhelmed him, so soft and feminine, yet so fierce and free, and at the edge, tasting of…magic?

  His eyes opened, in surprise but also in almost-recognition… the wild kiss had knocked her mask askew. He automatically righted it with one hand. Her fingers, burrowing into his hair, encountered the knot in the back of his mask, and he could almost see the gleam of calculation enter her peridot eyes. She grabbed the knot and used it to tug him onto the fainting couch. He had to go along with her or be unmasked.

  Besides, she wriggled against him as she wrestled him toward the couch, and the feel of her was so damned good he lost every thought in his head except one—bring her such immense, unparalleled pleasure, that she’d never forget him.

  His own pleasure wasn’t a concern. Touching her, kissing her, lit up his brain and pumped hot need straight to his groin. He’d fantasized about this so long.

  But fantasy Zoe was simply highlights of all the other women he’d dated, best of the best to be sure but still tame. Bland. Tepid.

  Real Zoe was primal, sweet—and oh, so sizzling hot. The difference between a steak in a magazine and the real thing, with its hot steam, aroma rising, juices bursting on the tongue.

  Her breasts heaved against his chest with her quickened breaths. His own respiration was dangerously fast, his panting bringing her wild, unique scent to him, so magical…

  She finally managed to lever him onto the couch, his head hitting the cushion, the mask’s knot an uncomfortable lump against the back of his head, the mask itself twisted awkwardly. As he adjusted it, she kicked off her shoes and climbed on, driving everything from his head except the feel of her strong, soft thighs banding his waist.

  Bending, she kissed him. Her rhythmically plunging tongue consumed him so he barely felt her working his jacket open, and when she thrust her hand under the waistband of his tux pants, it was a complete surprise. Her fingers encountered his burgeoning erection and nimbly plucked him straight.

  Desire speared him. He clenched his eyes shut and tried to let the sharp arousal ride over him, so he could get back to wowing her.

  But she began an exquisite stroking, leaning over him, her eyes heavy-lidded in her dark mask, hiding her thoughts, the mystery and anticipation expanding him until he was in danger of bursting from his slacks.

  Desperate, he tore them open, freeing himself into her hands.

  She growled, a low thrum that skittered along his spine. Wild, primitive, the sound called to something equally wild and primitive in him.

  He wrapped his arms around her and spun them, pinning her under him. Her growl cut with a squeak, and her hand gripped his erection as if it were a lifeline, squeezing him even higher.

  With a deep groan, he thrust himself against her clasping hand. Her responding moan was music in his ears. Tangling her hair with needy fingers, he pulled her mouth to his and devoured her. Her hands grew limp as she yielded to his onslaught. With another, louder moan, her hips began working against him, seeking.

  He slid a hand under the small of her back and waited. On a particularly fierce thrust of his tongue, she arched high off the couch, and he snatched her zipper, yanking it completely down, pulling so savagely her bodice yanked down with it.

  Her bared breasts pressed into his pleated shirt, tips hardening. He scrubbed cloth against them until she gasped, until her nipples pebbled so hard he could feel them. It jacked him even higher.

  Too aroused, too fast. He needed to wow her. Desperate to slow things down, to get himself under control, he anchored her mask with a thumb so he could kiss around it, touching light kisses to her nose, her cheek, her jaw.

  She wasn’t having any of that. She grabbed his hand and slapped it to her breast. Warm, silky smooth naked flesh met his fingers. Zoe’s pure skin felt like a dream. He clasped the globe, squeezed gently. She rewarded him with a purr.

  Fine. He was going down, but he was taking her with him. Bending his head, he sucked her nipple into his mouth, laving the tip. He slid his hand around her hip, into the open back of her dress—into her panties. He cupped her creamy flesh, caressed the downy hair on the sweet spot at the base of her spine.

  She moaned her pleasure. Her knees rose, feet running up his calves to his thighs. Her hemline rose, too, coming within reach of his hand. Leaving the panties, he winched the skirt up until the dress was bunched around her waist.

  Until only a wisp of silk was between his fingers and her precious sex.

  He kissed her breast more gently now, tongue swirling along the tight tip, teeth gently nipping. Her slender, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, a fulcrum for her hips rocking against him.

  “Daniel,” she panted. “I want you to…” She arched her hips toward him.

  With any other woman it would be an unmistakable request. With Zoe, it became his imperative.

  He slid a finger under the inset of her panties, directly onto her sex. She hissed through clenched teeth and arched, hard, driving his finger inside. He groaned. She was swollen, drenched, and so hot. She answered with a long, low moan and a wiggle.

  He was deep inside her scorching heat as she found her pleasure—exactly where he wanted to be. He began to caress her, long and slow. She rocked against his hand, seeking more. He responded with a second finger, stroking more firmly, faster, beginning to thrust and withdraw in rocking waves as old as the sea.

  Under him, her skin began to dew. Her face flushed, her ruby mouth parted, and she began panting in her rising excitement. A flush rose up her pretty round breasts, too, like thousands of blooming flowers. Her scent filled his nostrils, woodsy and hot, fiercer and wilder than any human…

  Woodsy. Wild. The idea had almost intruded before, but then he was taking as much as he was giving. Now he was focused on giving alone, focused on her—and the thought broke through, arresting his fingers midstroke. Wild. Animal. Magic.

&nbs
p; It couldn’t be.

  Of course it could. He wouldn’t have known the signs in high school. But he knew now, from his arcane classes at Nostradamus University. He opened his third eye on her, a brief glimpse on the ethereal. Sure enough, wild magic was in her aura. He clamped his ethereal eye shut.

  Damn it, Zoe Blackwood was a shifter.

  She howled her dismay. “Why’d you stop? You can’t stop.”

  “Sorry.” Fortunately, while witches could recognize shifters, they couldn’t identify witches. She wouldn’t know he was a wizard. He started again, pushing the knowledge and implications from his mind, determined to give this woman who’d haunted his dreams an orgasm she’d never forget.

  Since it would be the last time he could.

  Chapter Four

  Daniel thrust his fingers harder, plunged deeper. When Zoe moaned, he groaned at the sound. She responded so beautifully to him, he never wanted it to stop.

  But he’d have to.

  Frustration made his strokes almost brutal. Made him nip her naked exposed flesh, earlobes, neck and breasts, suck at her nipple like a wild animal.

  She responded by clutching him to her so hard his ribs creaked. She took everything he had to give, and she liked it.

  Lush, primitive heat filled him, power and strength and a sense of electrifying virility. With a snarl, he claimed her mouth and rode her sex with his hand until her eyes scrunched shut, her body trembling on the cusp of climax.

  “You,” she panted. “You, too.”

  “You first.”

  He drove his tongue into her mouth and claimed her like a beast. She thrust both hands in his hair and came with a guttural cry.

  Daniel stroked her savagely through it. Zoe whimpered, and her hips gave involuntary jerks as he reinforced the hard contractions with thrusts of his hand. She gasped, her eyes wide open and filled with stars.

  Eventually, her lids slid shut, and she slumped against him, knees falling and feet thudding to the couch. He eased his hand from her and, careful not to crush her with his full weight, rested against her, his head between her breasts.

  Under his ear, her heart gradually slowed. Her perspiration dried.