His eyes flamed. "Ask."
She couldn't. His gaze darkened, his hands tightening on her again. This time he flipped her to her stomach, held her over his legs, his cock pressed into her belly, and captured her hips up high with the other hand. He began to stroke her with just his fingertips, as if he were playing a musical instrument. Her whole body began to shake, spasms with no release, his clever fingers knowing just what to do to hold that out of reach.
She wasn't even sure when she began to speak, but in her dazed mind she became aware that she was gasping it out.
"Please, David. Please..."
"Please what?" He stilled. "And don't be crude. Say what you want. Ask for it."
"I need you inside me. Please." Her fingers were gripping the edge of the bed and something else frightening was happening. Her throat was aching, her eyes filling with tears. Damn him for doing this to her. "Please."
It was then it clicked, an understanding of why he kept doing it this way. Inexperienced she was, but not unintelligent. Overwhelm her, give her pleasure as a method for teaching her submission, and she'd find the trust that came with it. She wanted to rail, wanted to deny it was something she wanted. Needed. All her life she'd stubbornly maintained she was answerable to no one, going the opposite direction the compass pointed.
But she wanted, needed to trust him. Needed to belong to him in a fierce way that was frightening, particularly when she thought, at these moments, he held the key to all of who she was in his single touch. It allowed her mind to be blissfully empty, responding only to his direction.
David lifted her so she sat astride him again, his cock on his belly just between the vee of her thighs when she looked down. While his expression was still quite implacable, there was something in his eyes, when he put his hands on either side of her face, that kept a powerful hold on her attention. It told her anything she wanted from him, she could have. His heart, his soul. He'd just tear them out and hand them to her.
All she had to do was ask.
His thumbs pressed at the corners of her eyes, and when she closed them, a hot tear fell, making her jump with its betrayal.
"Take me in your hands," he said with an unutterable tenderness. "Put me inside you, deep as you can take me. Torture us both now."
When she complied, more tears fell. The ache in her chest was going to incinerate her. She opened her eyes as she curled her hands around him, guided him in, the ridged head to her wet lips, both of them shuddering at that first explosive contact.
"Slow," he reminded her, unsteadily. She was salivating to taste his mouth, to tear and bite. She took him deeper, deeper, and the downward descent was like sinking down into the sweetest torment devised by Hell. Oh, gods, she wanted to ride him wildly, buck fast, hard, pump him in and out of her until she was dizzy with the spin, but she obeyed, going as slowly as she knew how, and watched him suffer, a mirror reflection of her own face, she was sure.
"So small and fine," he murmured, tracing her collarbone as she shuddered, holding still for him. She understood the rules now, embraced them, because they gave her something, a fixed point in her chaotic universe. She'd wait until he gave her leave to seek the pleasure waiting in a waterfall just beyond her vision, the fast, rushing descent, the scream of exhilaration. The immersion in the pounding water at the bottom, the salty foam.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"You ask why a lot." His voice was strained, but there was humor there, too.
"You don't answer a lot."
The amusement died away as his eyes became more riveted upon her face. "Because if you truly belong to someone, you'll be less afraid." He echoed her very thoughts. "And because I want you to belong to me, more than I've ever wanted anything."
"I want to move," she whispered, a soft moan escaping her lips as he did nothing more than let his gaze pass over her breast, the taut nipple, cruise down to the joining point of their bodies. She contracted upon him, an involuntary reaction.
"Come without moving. Milk me inside, with your muscles. Let me watch your body shudder and quiver. I want the intensity of seeing you come, bound to stillness only by my word."
Oh, gods. How could he make her even more aroused with such words? She tightened, and that glorious contraction came again. When she did it, she saw the flare in his eyes. Noticed his cock wasn't the only rock-hard part of him. Arms, stomach, chest, thighs. All drawn tight, held just as still. She contracted again and again, until she couldn't help it. It felt so good, and oh, Goddess, she was coming.
"Keep doing it," he said between clenched teeth.
So she did, and the release, restrained as it was, was an avalanche that exploded through every nerve ending, one long, slow slide to the end of each one before leaping to the next. Somewhere in the middle of the exquisite torment, his cock convulsed inside her, and she felt the flood of seed. Hot, a geyser that seared the sensitive, spasming walls and tore a shriek out of her that was all female, no Dark One.
He'd put his hands over her wrists, but somewhere along the way, their fingers had become entwined, hers biting into his.
When they stopped together, shuddering, his touch eased. Hers didn't. She couldn't seem to let go, and her mind was overcome with the frightening need to hold on to him forever, knowing she'd never had such a desperate thought, which meant it was fraught with peril.
It was he who pried her loose, but only to ease her down to his chest, folding his arms over her. She pressed her cheek over his pounding heart.
"David," she said quietly after several moments.
"Hmmm?" His arms tightened on her back.
"I can't be happy. Because of the imbalance thing. But this is the closest to it I've ever been. No matter what else happens"-she hitched over the words just a bit-"thank you for that."
David turned his face to her hair, pressed his lips there. "I love you, sweet witch. Sleep. I'll be here when you wake."
She closed her eyes, heart tightening as his words tipped the scales a little further into that well of happiness. And because of that, as she descended into dreams, she braced herself to pay the price.
Twenty
SHE couldn't remember what she'd thought as a child, the first time she dreamed of the Dark One world. It had always been part of her sleep, as the ocean had been the world of her waking hours.
Crimson sky, like their eyes, so familiar. Shadows across the barren landscape, formed by shards of lightning. Constant roaring wind, jumping fires. Suffocating heat amid ash that seared the lungs and eyes of any creature. Rocks, naked trees, even the steam that rose from the ground, held poison if they made contact with the flesh of something that didn't belong there, raising festering boils.
Forged of clay and ash, human existence started in that Hell, but the Goddess had spirited them away to Earth. The Dark Ones would not rest until humans were brought back under their control. But the original parents of the human race were creations of pure feeling, driven by hate and violence. They could only destroy.
To Mina, though, with the Dark One blood within her, it was a world of chaos that made sense. An order that couldn't be explained, but she felt it in the deepest part of her Dark One soul. She also picked up early the symbiotic relationship between the humans and the Dark Ones, and knew the nightmares in the landscape were shared in the dreams of the humans and the reality of the Dark Ones.
You belong with us. You are ours. Ours.
You will destroy him. You would destroy it all. You can't escape your blood.
She woke thrashing, clawing. David's voice was distant, on the other side, and she had a sudden panic that it hadn't been a dream. She was there. And he was there with her. No.
"Mina? It's all right."
David, his arms firm and hard, closing around her, holding her as she gasped, shuddered.
The spasms went beyond her trembling body, just as they would if they were caused by the cracking of the Earth's crust or the thunder of the firmament. The dreams were an elemental force. Th
ey were always waiting. They knew. It hurt so badly, just as she knew it would. Take two steps forward, and you would be slapped back thousands of miles, into Hell. She couldn't rebuild it all again. Time to return to reality. To push him away before she destroyed him.
A flash of silver and gold. Screaming from deep inside a dark void. The Abyss. A stone wall, salt water rushing with blood. Not her blood. Blue. David's. Strong, dark eyes as a head drifted by in the water with chestnut hair. Too late.
"No. No!" She struggled back out of the dream again. David's hands were there still, his seeking eyes, the heat of his living body. Living.
"It's all right. I'm here."
"No. No, it's not all right. Something's happened. Somebody-"
David stiffened abruptly, his expression turning inward. "It's Jonah," he interrupted her. "He's calling all of us. The whole Legion. The Dark Ones took-"
"The Resurrection Trumpet," she finished his sentence. "I just saw it. Dreamed it. They used my portal to escape. Somehow they figured out how to go through the portal. That's how they escaped Jonah's angels. Yours..." She forced herself to say the words. "They've killed them. The three angels watching the cave."
His expression hardened, his eyes darkening, the whites swallowed in the time it took her to feel the blade of loss pierce her heart.
"I have to go report to Jonah."
"I'll go with you. I could help. I-"
"No." He said it sharply. "Stay here. I'll tell him and then, if there's time, I'll let you know what's going to happen."
And he was gone.
She stood on her knees on the mattress, swaying, staring at the now empty room. A chill ran up her bare back; the sheet fell away. Less than a minute, and everything that had been built in the past few hours was gone. The intensity of their joining, the promises that had been implied or made, her tentative belief. It mocked her in the silence of the house, the uneasy tendrils of Schism energy drifting like dust motes through the air. Particularly in the warmth of his body lingering on the bed but unable to penetrate the cold which had returned inside her.
As she'd drifted off, she'd even imagined what it would be like to wake up with him still around her, as he'd said. Lay there and talk about the next meal. Watch a sunrise. Share anything they wanted to talk about as they touched each other. A simple, astoundingly arrogant fantasy, thinking she'd ever deserve something like that, be given something like the tales those books spun. They were not her stories.
Nothing was "always" in her world. She'd had those few precious moments. That's all she'd asked, all she'd been given. That was that.
She left the bed and began to walk. From room to room, from the upper level to the lower, then onto the front porch, then the back. Looked at every corner of this marvelous house, felt the sense of belonging it pulled from her. Tearing her to shreds on the inside, the way her body looked on the outside. It wasn't for her. Not the welcoming warmth or the inviting sway of the empty tire swing.
Get over it. Numbing her mind, she went back inside and made a tidy bundle of her clothes and few belongings. Making sure the strap she used was long enough, she stepped out into the front yard again and forced herself not to look back. As she stripped off the splint and tucked that into the bag, she pushed away the memory of how capably his hands had moved over her finger, setting it, wrapping it in tape. The way his gaze had flickered up to her face to make sure he wasn't hurting her.
She thought of their time on the sand spit, and what he had said when he wrote I love Mina in the sand in that charming adolescent fashion. No, they'd never really had the chance for first love like that. But if there was any comfort she could grasp to help her breathe better over the pain in her chest, it was that she knew, for a brief moment in this house, they had both found it. She certainly never had expected such a gift. Or the agony of losing it.
As she began to shift into the dragon, she estimated she could be back to her caves in less than a couple of hours.
"THERE is no way they made it past us into a rift. We found no open ones. They've gone to ground here on Earth."
"But they can't stay here that long. We know this. And why can't we detect the Trumpet? It's an object of enormous energy. You think we're just overlooking it?"
David paused at the opening to the Citadel's Shamain keep. Jonah's gaze found him immediately, he was sure because of the thought he'd just shared with him.
I know where they are.
He stepped out as they all quieted. They'd accepted him, every one of them. Angels, while proud, were not egotistical. They believed in the greatest good, serving the Lady. But the Legion were also military-minded. He'd made a terrible mistake. The best way to deal with it was to figure out how to solve it. But that didn't abate his sense of shame as he faced the angel whom he'd let down the most.
"There's a portal to the Dark Ones' world in Mina's cave. It was created by her mother many years ago. Recently, I believed the Dark Ones might have discovered it, though I wasn't certain. I had three of my platoon guarding it. They're dead."
"And why didn't you didn't tell me about this earlier?"
I will vanquish you for breakfast. Yes, that was an understatement for the expression Jonah had on his face now. David squared his shoulders. "It was a calculated risk. I was trying to win her trust. My intention was to come to you about it when she felt she could trust me more. It was a mistake." He dropped to one knee. "My apology, Commander. If you wish to relieve me of my command-"
"Have you seen to your dead?"
"No." David shook his head, feeling the usual dull weight in his chest that such a loss created there. "I felt my duty was to report here first."
"See to them, then. If the Trumpet is in Dark One territory, there is little that can be done." Jonah spoke brusquely. "No angel can follow it there. But we must prepare for its return. Now that they have it, it's certain they will try to use it."
"We can't anticipate where they will emerge. All they have to do is have the time to blow it." This from Marcellus, who, David noted, had two glossy dark green wings again. "Though why didn't they do that when they grabbed it?"
Gabriel stepped forward to answer. The angel had pure white hair, features so graceful and refined that on first glance he could almost be mistaken for female. He spoke softly, but the resolve in his face, the tension in his body, belied any impression of mildness. "The magics associated with it are complex and must be unraveled. It will take time to figure them out, and even then, only a Full Submission angel or an extremely powerful magic user would be able to use it."
"Like the witch," Marcellus pointed out.
The angels shifted back toward David, Gabriel's gaze pinning him, bringing the weight of a Full Submission angel's attention on him. "And she was here the day Gabriel brought it for tuning," the captain continued. "She could have affected it in some way, made it easier for the Dark Ones to take it."
"Where is she?" Jonah asked, pinning David with his gaze.
"She is not a part of this."
"Was that the question I asked you, Lieutenant?"
He was not afraid of Jonah, but he was not the only angel that jumped as the commander thundered out the words, making the walls of the Citadel shake, the skies above cloud uneasily over the sun.
"No, sir." David steeled himself to meet that dark gaze, which was sparking with fire. "She was with me, at the Schism house. I asked her to stay there until I returned."
"You have a blood link with her. Is she there now?"
David focused, and felt fear clutch his vitals. Mina, no. Of all the times not to obey me... But then, he thought despairingly, when had she ever?
Jonah was waiting. For one desperate moment, David thought of lying, and knew if he did, he would be going down a road from which there would be no return. The road to Hell. A Hell of his own making.
There was no avenue to persuade Jonah in this, David knew. The Prime Legion Commander would brook nothing less than absolute obedience this time. While he knew he would ha
ve fought to the death to protect Mina that day, he was facing the angel he respected the most, the one who had in fact been the father for him his father had not been. The being he trusted, more than any other, even at this moment.
"She didn't feel comfortable staying there alone. She's gone back to the ocean."
"To that portal," Marcellus snapped.
"To her cave. Her home."
Gabriel glanced toward Jonah. "If she has the power you say, she could use the Trumpet."
"She has no desire to do that. She is not part of this plan," David repeated sharply.
"Because you don't want her to be? Because you lust after her? David, you're not the first angel or male of any species to be thrown off track by a sorceress's wiles. You're young and-"
"So is she," David shot back at Marcellus. "She's a twenty-nine-year-old mermaid who has been tortured and tormented since she was born. Been treated as an outcast by everyone, and the only thing that has saved her life is the power she has to protect herself. She has used that power for that purpose. She hasn't had the leisure time to hatch a plot to destroy the world. Her greatest desire is to be left alone, not rule the universe."
He turned his gaze back to a silent Jonah. "Commander, I made a mistake, but it was not a lie. I have not lied to you. I have been inside her head. Her heart. Her body." He swallowed. "I would wager the life of the Goddess she is not a part of this."
"You will take great care in how you speak of Her."
Lucifer. The dark-winged angel had landed on the upper turret and gone to a squat, his long fingers tented on the stonework, his scythe balanced in his other hand. The ebony lengths of his hair fell forward, covering his forearms and the carved shaft of the lethal-looking weapon. As the only born angel of the Seraphim with color in his eyes, red flame flickered among the coal depths.
David bowed. "My apologies, my lord. My choice of words is not idle, however. It is to prove how certain I am."
A Witch's Beauty Page 27
