Dark Power Unleashed (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance Book 51)

by I. T. Lucas

  Eleanor wanted Emmett to take her to his bed, to strip her naked and run his hands over every inch of her skin, but they hadn’t moved the couch to block the camera’s view yet, and she didn’t want him to know that Alfie wasn’t watching. As much as she wanted the sex, she didn’t trust him yet.

  He must have read her thoughts. Moving faster than she could process, he lifted her in his arms and shifted her to the bed, then turned the couch so its back was partially blocking the camera’s view.

  “I’ve fantasized about you naked in my bed for so many nights.” He tugged her T-shirt up, and when she lifted her arms, he pulled it off her.

  The red glow in his eyes eerie in the darkness, he gazed at her for a long moment before hooking his fingers in the elastic of her yoga pants. “Did you wear them knowing that I would take them off?” He pulled them past her hips.

  She shook her head.

  “I think you did.” He pulled them all the way down and then tossed them over the back of the couch. “Gorgeous.” He smoothed his hands over her outer thighs before dipping in, his thumb brushing over the soaked gusset of her panties.

  “So ready for me. So lovely.” Emmett leaned down and kissed her through the fabric. “Your scent is intoxicating.” He moved the gusset aside and pushed a finger into her, then withdrew it and pushed back with two.

  Eleanor was a hair away from climaxing. If he only touched the throbbing bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs she was going to tip over.

  Instead, he pulled her panties down her thighs, and then tossed them aside. Her bra was next, and then she was bare and didn’t know whether to cover her breasts with her hands or let his eyes feast on her.

  “Beautiful,” he hissed. “Even more so than I imagined.”

  “I want to see you too.”

  His smile was conceited. “Have you imagined me naked when lying in bed alone at night?”

  “Yes.”

  He started on the buttons of his shirt. "Have you been touching yourself, imagining that those were my hands and my fingers pleasuring you instead of your own?”

  She searched her mind for something witty to say, but all that came out was the truth. "Yes."

  He shrugged the shirt off, and she gasped.

  "Do you like what you see?"

  "You’re beautiful." She didn’t care that his ego was already inflated enough.

  Emmett was perfect. His chest was all smooth, lean muscles and completely hairless.

  Not bothering with the zipper, he pushed his jeans down his lean hips, and then he was standing in front of her in his boxer briefs, a massive erection obscenely stretching the fabric.

  Eleanor licked her lips. "Take them off."

  "Not yet, dove." He climbed on the bed and sprawled on top of her.

  Dove? She was no dove. She was a bird of prey.

  Lifting her head, she nipped at his lower lip.

  He smiled, his fangs gleaming white. “A dove with teeth.” He gripped her hands and pulled them over her head. “Do you want to wrestle with me, my little dove?”

  She tried to pull her hands out of his grip, but it was like trying to break free from iron manacles.

  “I didn’t think so.” He kissed her with surprising gentleness. “Don’t fight me, Eleanor. Aggression spurs instincts I’d rather remained dormant.” He kissed her neck, nipping at it lightly. “If you let me, I’ll pleasure you for hours. But if you fight me, this will be over too quickly for either of us to savor.”

  It dawned on her then that Emmett might enjoy her assertiveness, but any sign of aggression reminded him of his mistress and his near-slave status in the Kra-ell community.

  When she let her arms go slack, he released his hold and watched her with a wary expression, probably expecting her to strike again and not looking forward to it.

  Emmett needed her human softness and her willing submission. He didn’t want to have to fight her for it.

  Eleanor’s muscled body and assertive attitude might have painted her as a hard woman, but there was a soft core hidden deep inside of her that the tough exterior protected.

  Looking into his cautious expression, she made her decision.

  Tonight, she would give Emmett access to that soft interior, and if he treated it with care, she might give him access to it again.

  “Kiss me.” She smoothed her hands up his arms, her touch gentle and caressing.

  With a sigh that sounded like gratitude, he brought his lips to hers and licked into her mouth. He kept kissing her until she writhed under him, rubbing her aching nipples against his hard chest and her core against the tremendous bulge straining against the confines of his cotton briefs.

  56

  Emmett

  When Eleanor had bitten him, bringing out the Kra-ell savage in him, Emmett had fought against the instinct driving him to conquer and subdue.

  He’d learned a long time ago that he preferred human females' softness and submission to the Kra-ell females’ aggression, their sharp fangs and claws, their thirst for blood, their sadistic need to inflict pain, and the flip side of it, their masochistic need to be overpowered by the male.

  It was a vicious dance that didn’t allow for any feelings of closeness, or even fondness. It was primal and animalistic, deeply satisfying physically, but just as deeply disappointing emotionally.

  Perhaps it was the fault of the human genes contributed by his mother that he didn’t enjoy the Kra-ell savage sex games. Emmett enjoyed giving pleasure just as much as he enjoyed receiving it, and although he’d never been in love with any of his human partners, he’d been fond of most.

  If he didn’t like a female’s personality, he didn’t take her to his bed, and he definitely hadn’t invited any rotten apples to join his community.

  As he let go of Eleanor’s lips and looked down at her, he found her staring at him with softness in her eyes, an acceptance that stirred something in his heart.

  Eleanor knew who he was, what he was, and yet she accepted him, blood-sucking and all.

  And then she lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. “You are so handsome.”

  He cocked a brow. “Even with the fangs?”

  Her eyes became hooded. “Especially with the fangs. I know what these babies can do.”

  “In good time, dove.” He slid down her body and licked at her nipple. “First, I want to taste you.” He looked up at her. “Will you allow me to do that?”

  She nodded, and as her thighs parted, her feminine scent hit him with a force that nearly knocked him out.

  Licking her other nipple, he trailed his hand down her belly to the trove of pleasure between her legs.

  As his fingers gently brushed over her wetness, her hips jerked upward, and she hissed, “I’m so close.”

  He pushed up and took her lips, licking into her mouth while his finger breached her entrance.

  Eleanor moaned, her hips undulating to get more of his finger inside her. If he could make her come just with his fingers, he could make her come again with his tongue, preparing her to accept his size.

  Adding another finger, he pressed his thumb to her clit and nipped her lower lip.

  “Emmett,” she groaned as a release washed over her.

  “I love hearing you say my name.” He kept stroking her, helping her ride out the aftershocks of the climax and watching her expression change from ecstatic to sated and content.

  “I’m not done with you,” he said when she opened her eyes.

  “I know.” She turned to him, her hand drifting down to stroke him over his briefs. “I want this inside me.”

  “Not yet.” He slid down again and pushed her on her back. “Part your legs for me.”

  She obeyed without hesitation, and at the sight of her glistening sex, he dove down and treated himself to his first taste of her.

  “Exquisite.” He looked at her from in between her spread thighs. “Almost as good as the taste of your blood.”

  “Oh, dear merciful Fates.” Her head dropped back on
the pillows.

  It did something to him that she was turned on by the thought of him taking her vein. The other females he’d been with hadn’t known what was coming, and even though they had all orgasmed hard while he’d fed on them, it hadn’t given him as much satisfaction because that first part, the wanting, the acceptance, had been missing.

  He hadn’t even realized that until now, until he saw the anticipation in Eleanor’s eyes, heard it in her moans, and sensed it in the flare of her arousal.

  She wanted him at her vein, craved it, and he couldn’t wait to sink his fangs into her.

  With a growl, he sealed his mouth over her sex, sucking, pulling, then licking and nipping, and back to sucking until she exploded over his tongue, her back arching like a bow off the bed. He didn’t stop there, working her into another climax, and another, until she pushed on his head.

  It took him less than a second to shuck his briefs, and then he flipped Eleanor’s boneless body over and pulled her bottom up, baring her gleaming wet sex to him. Rising behind her, he gripped her hips and aimed his shaft at her entrance.

  He wanted to spear into her with one mighty thrust, but even after all the orgasms he’d wrung out of her, Emmett feared that Eleanor might not be ready for his size. Pushing just the tip in, he waited for her response, and when she wiggled her bottom, he pushed in a few inches more.

  Even with all the slickness, she was tight around him, but he couldn’t wait a moment longer. Tightening his grip on her hips, he surged all the way in and then stilled as she whimpered.

  Sweat beaded his forehead as he waited for her to adjust to his girth, and when she moved, encouraging him to do the same, the last of his control broke, and he pounded into her like a rutting beast.

  It must have taken less than a minute for him to reach his climax, and as it erupted out of him, he let go of her hips, gripped her nape, and sank his fangs into her vein.

  She orgasmed again, squeezing him tight, and as the first taste of her blood hit his tongue, he hardened again as if he hadn’t just emptied a gallon of his essence into her.

  Sucking and pulling, he started thrusting again, and as one orgasm after another rocked through Eleanor’s body, Emmett had to remind himself to stop before he took too much.

  With a Herculean effort, he retracted his fangs and sealed the puncture holes with a swipe of his tongue.

  Her body slackened under him, and even though he could have climaxed again, Emmett pulled out, slid to the side, and tucked her into his chest.

  Unfamiliar tenderness washing over him, he whispered in her ear, “Thank you.”

  57

  Cassandra

  Dinner took forever. Seven courses had been served, each one small but delicious. Cassandra was pleasantly full, but not overstuffed, and if not for her spinning head, she would have enjoyed herself greatly.

  Good food and good company made for a pleasant evening. The only problem she had with her dinner companions was their insistence on getting and keeping her drunk. She’d never consumed so much alcohol, and at the rate she was going, she would soon pass out.

  “Coffee, cappuccino, or tea?” the server asked.

  “Coffee. Definitely coffee,” she slurred.

  “Same here,” Onegus told the server. “After we are done with coffee and dessert, I’ll introduce you to my mother.”

  She wanted to shake her head, but it made her dizzy. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can meet her now. I need to sober up first.”

  “You’re fine,” he said dismissively. “As long as you can string three words together in the right order, you are not considered drunk.”

  “According to which country rules?”

  “Scotland, of course.”

  “That’s right.” Connor lifted his umpteenth glass of whisky and downed it in one go. “The night is still young, and I can still talk without slurring my words.” He lifted the empty glass, signaling for the server to refill it. “They should just leave a couple of bottles here.”

  “They serve fine whiskies,” Jackson said. “The bar tab alone must have cost Sari a fortune.” He chuckled. “I’m sure Gerard is not donating his services or the supplies.”

  “He’s not,” Sylvia said. “Amanda paid for everything.”

  “What does she do to afford all that?” Cassandra asked.

  “She comes from money.” Roni leaned sideways as the server placed a plate with cake and ice cream in front of him.

  Cassandra chuckled. “So do all of you, but I don’t see Tessa or Sylvia wearing the latest gowns by Oscar de la Renta. Did Amanda marry someone rich?”

  Maybe she was the wife or daughter of the head of their clan. No, Kian was the clan’s head, and she was his sister. Now, that made more sense. The five siblings inherited the empire. Or was it four?

  Cassandra vaguely remembered the bride naming four people. Two brothers and two sisters.

  Robert, who had hardly spoken more than two words throughout dinner, shook his head. “Amanda mated a simple soldier.”

  There was that word again, mated. Was it the new politically correct term for married?

  “I get it now.” Cassandra smiled at Onegus. “It has taken a few moments for my inebriated brain to connect the dots. Amanda is one of the five heirs of the clan’s business empire. I’ve met Kian, but not the other two Sari mentioned. I know that the third sister was one of the bridesmaids. Was the other brother one of the groomsmen?”

  “Lilen is no longer with us.” Onegus’s eyes clouded. “He has passed to the other side of the veil.”

  “I’m so sorry. When did it happen?”

  “A very long time ago.” His eyes turned hard.

  She wanted to ask how Lilen had died, but Onegus had gotten upset, so she decided to drop the subject and divert the conversation to another topic.

  “I bet there is a fascinating story behind Amanda marrying a simple guy. How did the incredibly rich and gorgeous heiress end up with a soldier?”

  Suddenly, everyone got busy with their coffees and desserts and avoided her eyes.

  “What? Did I say something wrong? Did the snowflake police deem the term to marry discriminating and it was replaced with mated?”

  The term mate kept popping up, and the priestess had talked about a joining, not a marriage.

  Damn, she should have figured it out. Unlike husband or wife, mate was a genderless term like partner or significant other.

  “I’m not aware of marriage or to marry getting booted out of the English language,” Onegus said. “Did any of you hear anything about that?” He looked at their dinner companions, who all shook their heads.

  “Damn.” Cassandra huffed out a breath. “I can never figure out which words they will oust next. But if that’s not the reason for everyone clamming up, then what is?”

  “Amanda’s story is hers to tell.” Onegus lifted the tiny fork and scooped a small piece of the cake. “You should ask her.”

  58

  Eleanor

  As Eleanor drifted down from the euphoric cloud she’d been floating on, she wondered how long she’d been out.

  She was on her side, her back tucked against Emmett’s front, the stickiness of their releases gluing them together.

  His deep and even breathing suggested that he was asleep, which gave her time to think over the experience.

  He’d taken her blood, this time she’d been aware of it, and it had been a little scary but still erotic as hell. The effect was the same as Greggory’s bite, which meant that Emmett had injected her with venom before sucking on her blood, and that his venom was either the same as Greggory’s, or similar enough to be indistinguishable.

  She wasn’t as lightheaded as she’d expected to be after having her blood depleted, and the sexual satiety felt different than what she’d experienced with Greggory. It was more complete, which was surprising since she and Emmett weren’t a couple.

  Maybe it had been the vulnerability that he’d let her see, dropping his usual swagger and eas
y charm to show her the scars of his past.

  “Don’t fight me, Eleanor,” he’d said. “Aggression spurs instincts I’d rather remained dormant.”

  She wasn’t sure what he’d meant by that, but she could guess. From the little he had told them, she’d garnered that the Kra-ell females were cruel, savage, and that they reveled in inflicting pain on the males who fought so hard for the dubious privilege of breeding with them.

  Apparently, those sexual games were not cultural but rather instinctual, driven by biology, necessary to ensure the survival of the species. By weeding out the weaker males and choosing the strongest, the species continually improved, at least physically.

  It was common in the animal kingdom, but it was counterproductive for an intelligent species. The more evolved the society, the less valuable brute strength was. Cunning, intelligence, the ability to form alliances and work productively with others, those were the traits of the most successful humans, not how much weight they could deadlift or how powerful their punch was.

  The Kra-ell must have come from a primitive society, and the technology used to bring them to earth probably hadn’t been developed by them. Maybe they had stolen it, or maybe they’d conquered a more advanced but less militant species and had taken their technology.

  What if that species was the gods? Perhaps the group that had arrived on earth thousands of years ago had been refugees from a war with the Kra-ell?

  “Are you okay?” Emmett kissed her neck.

  She turned in his arms to face him. “I’m better than okay. I’m perfect.” She kissed his lips lightly. “I thought that you were asleep.”

  “I was. Your loud thinking woke me up.” When she frowned, he laughed. “No, I can’t read your thoughts. But the energy you were putting out felt like intense thinking.”

  “You can sense that?”

  “Only when you are in my arms, and I can feel any minute change in your body. What were you thinking about?”