by Mary Hughes
He thrust again, a long, hot slide of urgent sensation. She felt every hot inch going in and loved it, moaning with each vein and bump that stretched her.
Then he began to move. His thrusts were powerful, smooth and regular. Assured. He gripped her hips firmly to hold her for his driving rhythm.
“More.” She ground herself against him. “Faster.”
“Faster? Or harder?”
He pounded into her like an oil rig.
“Yes. That.”
As he always had, Daniel gave her exactly what she needed.
She rippled in ecstasy, explosions of anguished desire coming faster and closer together, building higher. “More.”
“I’ll give you more.” He drove deep inside her, over and over, primitive and hard. As hard as she could take it, only a veneer of restraint, as if even his amazing self-discipline had worn thin.
Thin, but not completely gone. He wrapped one arm around her. Dropping a hand to her cleft, his fingers found her hard little clit.
With the last vestiges of his awareness, still thinking—of her.
It rocketed her to the top of a mile-high rollercoaster.
Hanging there, at the top of infinity, she could see the vast landscape from here, a climax bigger than the sky itself.
All she had to do was fall.
He stroked down the nose of her clit, shocking thrill after thrill through her, burnishing her in rhythm with his thrusts.
“Come for me, sweet Zoe,” he breathed in her ear, pounding her so hard, their bones seemed to mesh. “Come apart in my arms. I want to see you do it.”
She groaned. “You…too…”
“No. I want to watch you come. Come now.” His hot mouth latched onto her shoulder.
Like an alpha wolf taking control.
She fucking climaxed.
The earth dropped out from under her. Orgasm didn’t sing, it bellowed. She shrieked as she plummeted off the edge of the world and hit earth. A wave of contractions hit so hard it hurt, followed by a hurricane of release. Like a skydiver caught in huge updrafts, screaming as she fell only to whoosh upward, her stomach swooping. And again, and again. Just as she started to come down, he’d pump into her, triggering another contraction and release. Holding off his own orgasm until she was fully satisfied.
The hell with that. She reached behind her, grabbed his hips and pulled.
In her desperation, she yanked so hard she buried him inside her to the hilt. He hit bottom, a sweet, painful tang exploding in her belly, but he made a strangled sound, music to her ears. She clamped down on her internal muscles, squeezing him as hard as she could.
He roared, gut-deep, and climaxed. Hot, jerking inside her, his cock’s eruption extended her own orgasm, rolling it longer, rippling it into infinity.
Her world went white. Noiseless except for a cotton mallet pounding a pillow drum, the thudding of her heart.
The terrible contractions eased. In their place…perfect peace melted through her.
Her heart slowed. She felt mellow, her muscles glowing, her brain clean and new. Sex was always good. But with Daniel it was amazing.
Opening her eyes, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
She expected the heaving breasts, the flushed skin. Expected the sheen of perspiration and the weary but satisfied expression. Expected the big, happy pupils and thin corona of contented green.
But instead of satisfied peridot, her irises were emerald. Her mother’s mated color.
Mated.
The world dropped out from under her a second time. Her limbs trembled. Impulsively, she turned to Daniel, burrowing into his arms. He smelled like the best thing ever, like chocolate and flowers and bath oils all in one. Affirming, even if the color of her eyes hadn’t already told her, the truth.
Mated.
It was a disaster. She’d mated. No flowers, no candy, not even a dinner and movie.
Mated, through pure beastly sexuality. Without romance—her worst fear come true.
Chapter Eight
Daniel leaned back against the door, Zoe a warm, limp weight against him. He wrapped grateful arms around her. He felt wonderful, made new. Happy. Complete. That had been much, much more than sex.
With her, even in a janitor’s closet, it was making love.
“You have the key?”
Her voice came from the depths of his arms, muffled against his chest. He heaved a sigh. Well. Guess that was that. The joining of a lifetime to him was only more sex to her. Maybe not even great sex at that, since he was only human.
He released her, wishing the reluctance to leave his embrace was on her side as much as his, but not hopeful. Next time, he’d use his power.
Magic would give her an orgasm that would blow her mind.
No. Not with the threat of the Witches’ Council and their taboo against witch/shifter sex.
There couldn’t be a next time.
Daniel’s shoulders and whole being slumped. His limbs were unaccountably heavy as he picked up his tux jacket and extracted the key from its pocket. A stink emerged with it, stinging his nostrils—the acrid stench of evil magic. He stifled his flinch and opened his third eye. On the ethereal, fingerprints glowed blood red on the key.
Damn and blast. Zeus had used blood magic to extract the key from Zoe’s lovely cleavage. The fingerprints were small, a woman’s, meaning the sacrifice was not Zeus’ own. Not death, thank goodness, or the bloody color would be tinged with black; but there was pain.
With a grimace of distaste, Daniel cleansed the stink off with a whisper of power.
Zoe rubbed her arms, goose bumps rumpling her skin. “Chilly in here.”
She’d felt him use his power? Usually, only another witch could detect magic. Maybe their lovemaking had attuned her to him…their sex, that was.
He handed her the key. “What do you want it for?”
“Masked ball, remember? Prize going to the most romantic man? The parchment. I still need the key to take the parchment from the case and give it to the winner.”
He winced. The prize for romance; the one he’d come for. The one he’d now definitely blown by behaving like her boyfriends in high school, only wanting to get in her pants, nothing else mattering.
All his sexual expertise, his skills in seduction, learned painstakingly over years—they’d all vanished simply at the sight of Zoe’s upturned hips.
She’d give the parchment to someone else—because he’d failed her. Losing the prize only made him wince, but at that, his heart fell. He’d failed to give her what she wanted.
She lifted the key to her nose, sniffed it—and then she smiled. “I can’t believe, in the middle of all that chest-beating, you thought to pickpocket it. Here I thought you slugged him in a testosterone rage. But instead, you were thinking.” Her smile warmed as her gaze rose to his. “Always thinking. It makes you special.”
Dorky really was a good thing. His shoulders straightened and his chest expanded. He felt better. “Thanks.”
Her green eyes glowed. He wanted to fall into their dark depths forever, swim in their emerald depths…
Emerald?
Wizards had a saying: “Power shows in the eyes.” True for magical beings from witches to familiars to shifters.
Emerald, not peridot. His heart beat faster as he got a strange idea. “What happened to your eyes?”
Her smile disappeared. “Nothing.” She turned her head away, shaking it, mahogany tresses rustling against her shoulders. “Sometimes I get emotional. It makes my eyes look darker.”
He knew from his arcane classes that some shifters’ eyes were as good as mood rings. An emotional bellwether. But he couldn’t help thinking—the most extreme emotion for a wolf shifter was mating.
He sucked in a breath, on the edge of something huge…
“I’m scared, Daniel.”
Everything—thoughts, hopes, fears—evaporated in the wake of her need, and he immediately reached out to comfort her.
His arms
swished air. She’d already bent to pick up her panties.
His gaze was drawn helplessly to the curve of her backside, but he was still determined to comfort her when she was ready.
She straightened, not facing him, obviously not ready.
Instead of pulling her into his arms, he patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Why are you afraid?”
“I’m thirty-nine.” She slid the wisp of lace up over her long, long legs, over her hips. “My biological clock is ticking extra-loud.”
“L-loud?” he croaked, her panties gliding up those long legs reducing his vocal cords to mush.
“Yes.” She hunted around for her dress. “Urging me to find a husband. Settle down.”
Husband. That suddenly sounded like the best title in the world. “That’s a bad thing?”
“Well, yes. If it’s only sexual.” She snared her dress and stepped into it. “If my hormones force me to marry, how will I know if I truly love him? How will I know he loves me, not just jumping me?” She paused pulling the dress up. Her shoulders were knotted, her spine stiff. “How will I know, years down the road, if my husband truly loves me, or if it’s just sex keeping us together?”
He didn’t understand what she was asking. But he heard the sadness, the fear behind her words and instantly needed to help. Maybe she wasn’t telling him everything. He’d have to read between the lines. Her hormones were urging her to settle down…stars. Did she mean her wolf? Again her words echoed, but now he heard the meaning behind them.
My wolf will force me to take a mate. Sex and pups forced on her, without choice.
Suddenly he understood everything.
The key was important because it unlocked the parchment.
The parchment was important because it unlocked romance.
Romance was important because she thought it would unlock the secrets of her heart.
He started dressing, too, infinitely sad. Zoe, with all her experience and guts and smarts, didn’t understand herself in this one key area.
Then she turned, holding the key out to him, her vulnerability, her soul in her eyes. “On second thought… Take it. It’ll be safer with you.”
He reached out to take it. It was vital he get the parchment—the world as we know it will end. The key was the means to it, and because she’d handed it to him willingly, he had the permission.
But this was Zoe. More, it was a hurting, vulnerable Zoe. Anyone else, he’d snatch the key. Hell, anyone else and he’d have used all his talents in seduction, learned from a hundred beauties, to bedazzle her until she gladly gave him the prize.
But now he knew Zoe would lose the key to her own heart.
Words clogged his throat. If she’d handed him her physical heart he couldn’t have been any more honored—or terrified. He swallowed, hard.
She’s giving the key to me.
It would hurt her forever. How could he do that to her? His hand wilted back.
The world as we know it will end. How could he not?
“Daniel, please?” She offered the key again.
Neither mattered. She needed his help.
For her, then, not for him.
He answered as he always had. “Yes, or course.” He took the key and tucked it again into his unburned breast pocket. “I do understand what this means. You can trust me.”
She exhaled a loud whew and smiled, her relief palpable.
He could never abuse her trust. It nailed a decision that, if he were honest with himself, he’d already made. He needed that parchment, yes. But he knew from high school what it was like to be hurt badly. He’d never do that to another soul, much less Zoe.
He’d have to find another way to get the Quatrain.
* * *
Zoe was surprised how relieved she felt, giving up the key to Daniel—her mate. She turned her back to him in a silent request to zip her dress, just as her wolf pulled back its ears and growled.
She jerked to attention. “Something’s wrong.”
Daniel gave her an efficient zip. “What?”
“I don’t know…wait. Shouting. Coming from the ballroom. Feet running. Hear that?” She turned.
He cocked his head, listening. “Now I do. It’s getting louder.” He threw on the rest of his clothes.
She toed on her shoes as a voice cut through the rest, high, tight.
“Zoe! It’s gone.”
Dorine. Zoe hobbled to the door, barely slowing to scoop her heels in with a finger.
Daniel, fully dressed and immaculate, was already opening the door.
The planner ran down the hallway, ducking into each open doorway as she passed. “Zoe, where are you?”
“Here.” She waved and trotted toward her.
The moment Dorine caught sight of her, the planner’s face crumpled with relief. “I only turned my back for a moment, I swear.”
“What?” Though, from the cold weight in her gut, Zoe knew.
“The parchment.”
“Show me.” She grabbed Dorine’s elbow, surprisingly lean with muscle, and tugged her toward the ballroom. Daniel followed.
“I don’t know what happened. The case is open and I can’t find the key—”
“You left it in the lock.”
“Oh.” The woman’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry.”
Zoe could smell the stink of emotion coming off her, shame and the bite of rage, probably at the thief. “It’s all right. I found it and locked the case.”
“You have the key? Then how—?”
“I lost it, too. I found it again, but…” They reached the ballroom, where a crowd buzzed around the front table. “Damn my paws. My romantic evening, ruined.”
“Not at all.” Daniel clasped her shoulder. “This will only add to the mystery and intrigue.”
Sure enough, as Zoe neared, champagne and speculation both flowed freely.
“I heard the parchment was stolen by a famous cat burglar.”
“I heard it was a lost duke, reclaiming his inheritance.”
“The Queen of Heart’s lover, lost for years at sea.”
Zoe shook her head with a rueful smile. Daniel was right. The theft, far from detracting, had made the party that much better.
“Maybe the loss is a good thing now,” Dorine muttered. “But what about at midnight? What if the parchment is never found? How will the Queen of Hearts bestow her prize?”
Zoe’s optimism died. Dorine was right. Success was a fickle thing.
The planner brightened. “Maybe the servers know something. I’ll go ask.”
As Dorine trotted away, Zoe managed to wedge her way into the center of the gossipers. The case below the fountain was open.
Empty.
Seeing that void opened an icy hollow in her chest and brought her loss crashing home. Her eyes prickled and her throat thickened. Her prize, gone. She wasn’t sure if she meant the parchment, her dreams of romance, or her right to choose her mate.
Or maybe all three.
Daniel must’ve caught her chill, because his arm came around her shoulders, warming her.
He leaned in and murmured in her ear. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“I know you better.”
He turned her to face him. His star-shot blue eyes were as serious as she’d ever seen.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “We’ll find the parchment.”
We. He’d help her. Despite already having gotten sex, despite not really needing anything more from her. She needed; he provided.
As he always had.
Her heart gave a painful thump. Why had she not appreciated that? None of her high school boyfriends had lifted a finger on her behalf. Even her adult men friends were only helpful before sex.
She’d taken Daniel’s support for granted—worse, she’d considered it something of a turnoff. Family helped you out, and girlfriends. Who wanted a boy more like family or a girlfriend? That kind of thinking had gotten her the pregnancy scare.
Because the other name for a man who was also family and friend?
Husband.
Desire ignited her veins like a lit fuse. She wanted that, wanted a husband, one who’d make a home with her. A family.
Tethered to Daniel’s star-shot gaze, she nodded. She meant more than they’d find the parchment… Husband.
His return smile only held relief. “Good.”
He dropped his hands and turned toward the case. He hadn’t seen it. Preternaturally aware of her needs, this once, he’d been blind.
Unless he’d seen it and was rejecting it. Rejecting her.
Like Tommy, damn it.
No. Daniel is different.
Yes. But even if he was, Zoe couldn’t marry him. A human, as her wolf’s mate? Her alpha, Scauth, would never accept Daniel. She wiped at suddenly itchy eyes.
Although, if Noah became alpha, he might. Noah might accept them as mates, and…and her wolf might, and Daniel…
He turned from her to study the open display.
Her chest froze. Daniel might not.
“The glass isn’t smashed.” He touched the case. “So a key was used to open it. Not your key, because I have that.”
She smiled through her unshed tears. Whatever her feelings, whatever his feelings, he’d help her, and he’d get the job done. At least she could rely on that. “Zeus?”
“That’s my guess.”
“But how? You took it back before he could use it.”
“He made a copy?”
“Why chase us then?”
“Good question.” His lips pursed in thought.
He had insanely kissable lips.
Stupid mated wolf. She shook her head at herself. “And why make a copy if he had the original?”
“Also a good question. Is there only the one key?”
“Yes. The display case is from my motorcycle store, for sunglasses and goggles. I lost the spare months ago and haven’t had time to make another.”
“Your party planner?”
“I gave her the original.”
“Hmm.”
