Hunter Deceived

by Nancy Corrigan

  Saliva filled her mouth at the thought of swallowing his erection. She loved oral sex, often needed to feel the power of control it gave her in order to get in the mood for anything else. Making a guy moan and beg for release simply did it for her. After kissing Calan, however, she feared she’d never be able to touch another man.

  “Take me, treasure me or walk away, but know I will always be yours.”

  Another soft whimper crawled up her throat. She wanted him. Had craved him for so long. Why had she walked away? He’d saved her, given her a piece of himself without asking for anything in return. No, that wasn’t quite true either. He’d asked her to release him so he could make love to her.

  Tears welled in her eyes, partly from the pleasure building in her body but mostly from the emotion stripping her raw. He’d been hers since that fateful night.

  Her salvation. Her dream lover. Her hope.

  My hero.

  She stretched out on the thick comforter and thrust harder, faster. Spread wide, she worked herself to the point where her orgasm hovered just out of reach.

  She added a third finger in an attempt to push herself over the edge. Her palm smacked her swollen lips. Her breathy moans filled the room. More, she needed more. With her free hand, she grabbed her breast. The rough squeeze did nothing. She pinched a nipple and arched her back on the whipping sparks skipping over her skin. Not enough. Nothing she did was enough. She needed…

  “Calan.”

  His woodsy campfire scent wafted around her. She dragged in a breath and filled her lungs with the air she suddenly had to have inside her. She’d die without it. The silken wrap he’d left on her heart and body pulsed with his heartbeat. It echoed inside her and mixed with hers until both raced in a rapid cadence. She squirmed over the soft blanket. Surrounded inside and out by silk, she tingled. Every inch of her sensitive body craved attention. She yearned for his touch, only his.

  She choked on shaky sob. “Need you, Calan.”

  His warm breath fanned her cheek, and a wavering image of his face appeared above her. The eyes she loved still showed a blurry band of darker blue around his pupil.

  She reached for him. Her fingers scattered his image. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Never, my Harley.” His form gained depth yet not dimension. She could see the wall behind him. “Picture me, and I can come to you for a little while.”

  “Yes, please.”

  She visualized his gorgeous body, recalled the feel of his hard muscles under her fingertips and the thump of his heart against her palm. Colors added to the rapidly expanding image crouched next to her. He wore the ancient clothes she’d seen him in hours ago. The ugly black pants and brown shirt stretched over his body. She took in his bulging biceps and thick thighs folded next to her hip. Her breath escaped in a long rush.

  “Oh God.”

  He leaned over her and pressed his fingers to her cheek. Roughened, warm, real, even if he wasn’t exactly with her. He could touch her. Her heart raced more at the possibilities of what that meant.

  “Not a god, only the bastard child of one.” He dragged his fingertips across her jaw. “Have you figured it out yet?”

  A god. She wanted to ask who’d fathered him, but Calan concerned her most. Her view was biased, maybe, but fathers only supplied sperm. Dads held the true value, and hers had been killed by a redcap. The thought almost choked her, but a swipe of Calan’s finger drew her attention back to him and the question he’d asked.

  She nodded, and he moved his featherlight caress to her neck. “You left a piece of your…” She fumbled for word to describe the silky sheen lovingly embracing her body and soul. “You shared your essence with me.”

  A small, pleased smile graced the lips she wanted on hers. He lifted her hand and traced the swooping mark as she’d done. He didn’t stop at the end of the line, though. He continued the slow trace over her palm. She followed the path of his finger with her gaze. Realization struck. It wasn’t an X, but the center of two overlapping circles. He brought her hand gently to his mouth and placed a kiss on her skin.

  A shuddered sigh escaped her lips. He glanced at her. The lust reflected in his eyes stopped her heart. “Not completely, but I will. Then I will act as your shield.”

  She waited for the doubt to come. It never did. Only anticipation filled her at how he’d finish saving her.

  “And you’ll do that by”—she swallowed hard—“screwing me?”

  He frowned, and the brush of butterfly wings danced through her. She had the sensation of him rifling through her mind. His eyes widened. She used a metaphysical hand and pushed against his invading exploration. The tickling touch of his presence retreated immediately.

  “What are you doing?”

  He straddled her, took her other wrist and tugged both over her head. Stretched over her naked body, he braced himself with a hand next to her achy breast. “I’ve been locked away for nearly a millennium. Much has changed in the time I’ve been imprisoned.”

  He lifted his gaze and scanned the room. Again his eyes widened as if he’d just noticed his surroundings. Such a small thing, but seeing the shock displayed there pleased her. She’d been his entire focus when he’d materialized, not the living room with its slightly older electronics and plush, expensive furnishings. He wouldn’t appear so surprised otherwise.

  He focused on her. “I didn’t touch your memories. You must willingly share those. I merely took the knowledge of this era from you.”

  A long moment passed where they watched each other, two strangers on the verge of becoming so much more. The full impact hit her, left her a little shaky inside but not anxious. No, excitement sped her pulse.

  She licked her lips, already envisioning what they’d do together. “So, am I right?”

  He slid his hungry gaze to her breasts. The points stood erect, and the sheen of her skin betrayed how hot she’d gotten from touching herself.

  “Oh yes, I’ll fuck you, my Harley. Sometimes hard and fast. Other times so damn slowly, you’ll beg me to fill you up.” He met her eyes. “I’ll take you so often and in so many ways, you’ll want me to be the center of your world as you are now mine.”

  He released her wrists and covered one breast with his hand. The hard point pushed against his callused skin, and a jolt of electricity raced down her spine. He captured the tip she’d teased minutes ago. The small pinch arched her back.

  “Do you like that?”

  She flicked her gaze from his long fingers holding her nipple to his face and nodded. “Do it again.”

  One corner of his mouth rose. He rolled the tip, and she gasped. Another tug clenched her core. “Beautiful. I can’t wait to watch that look pass over your face when I fuck you.”

  She whimpered.

  The smile giving him a roguish look turned wicked. “You do want me to ram my cock inside you and make you come apart around my dick”—he ran the tip of his tongue over his upper lip—“don’t you?”

  “I…I…” She couldn’t get the words out.

  He released her hands and sat back so he knelt between her thighs. Her attention shifted from the desire stamped on his face to the long length of his erection molded by his pants.

  “Touch it.”

  He didn’t have to tell her twice. She pushed up, spreading her legs with the move and exposing herself to him. The muttered curse and shaky breath he released told her he liked the view. It pleased her, but her focus centered on the rigid cock she couldn’t wait to feel pierce her.

  She skimmed her fingertips along his hidden penis. The thin material covering it allowed her to make out the veins and the ridge around the head. She rubbed her thumb over the damp tip. Oh yeah, she wasn’t the only one drowning in lust. A few strokes, the tightness of her throat, and he’d erupt.

  The thought stirred her needs. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth a
nd gripped the leather strap around his waist. It would feel so good to have his cock slide over her tongue. She tugged the cord. It didn’t budge.

  He grasped her wrist. “You can’t pleasure me.”

  “Why not?”

  A sigh fell from his lips. “I’m not really here. I merely wanted you to feel what the sight of your body has done to me.”

  “But—”

  “You’ve connected with me and brought my image close. I’ve filled it with life, but it’s draining to hold on to the solid shape. I won’t be able to maintain it much longer, nor can I change it from the one I hold back in my prison.”

  She sat back on bent legs and ran her fingers through his hair. Silky, soft strands tickled her fingertips. She leaned close and pressed her nose to the crook of his neck. His rich, woodsy scent filled her lungs. She touched the tip her tongue to his skin. The flavor of salt and Calan ignited her taste buds.

  “You feel real.”

  He mimicked her pose, hands in the mass of her bouncy curls she could never tame. “I am. I’m just not here. You left me alone in my own personal hell.” He leaned closer and buried his face in her hair. “I’d always thought my punishment the worst I could imagine. I was wrong. This, my flower, is hell. Wanting you, needing you and not being able to love you.”

  She held him close, his words rocking her, but the rational side of her had to rear its ugly head. “How can you say that? You don’t know me.”

  He used his nose to brush a lock of hair away from her ear. The warmth of his breath fanned her sensitive skin. “I know enough. My choice is made, Harley. I am yours. I won’t take it back. Soon, I won’t be able to.”

  She stiffened. The finality in his tone left her wary. “What do you mean?”

  He captured her earlobe and gave it a little tug. She shivered, automatically moving closer, and he nibbled on the tender flesh. “I’ve already told you what you need to know.”

  “But—”

  “Harley.” He captured her face between his hands. “Decide. Let me worship you or let me go.”

  “Worship.” She linked her arms around his neck. “Please, touch me.”

  His grin turned her heart over. With the hands she suspected had killed countless fairies, he lowered her to the floor.

  His heated gaze focused on her breasts. “You are beautiful. Made for loving.”

  A wavy lock of dark hair hung over his eyes but the blue peeking through the strands pierced her. She sucked in a rough breath.

  “You were made for me, my Harley.”

  She wanted to argue. She was made from an unholy act for no other reason than because Dar had lusted after her mother or had simply wanted to rape a human. Calan’s low growl stopped the thought from gaining more ground. He slid a hand between her thighs and cupped her mound. The possessive way he touched her eased the tension she hadn’t realized had seized her muscles.

  “Focus on me. Only me.”

  She dipped her chin in acknowledgment, and he pushed two fingers into her dripping center. A shocked cry escaped her lips. The rough thrust took her by surprise. He didn’t tease her, didn’t slowly stoke the embers of desire, didn’t worship her. Not in the sweet, making-love sense, anyway. He worked her body with hard, rapid thrusts of his fingers. The curl and twist at the end of each drive matched what she’d done not long ago. He hit her G-spot easily and adjusted his prodding fingers to zero in on it.

  She trembled. The orgasm he built tightened her core and strung her limbs taut. He didn’t send her over the edge, though. His steady stroking made it grow. Her rough breaths shortened. She gasped and tried to drag in air but couldn’t. The race to experience heaven on earth became her world, along with the man whose hot and hungry eyes watched her with utter satisfaction.

  “Are you close?”

  Going by the smirk on his full lips, he knew the answer, but the teasing note to his voice told her more about her new lover than anything else could. He wouldn’t let her be in charge as she’d been with other men, not unless he wanted to give her the power. He would command her pleasure, direct her and love every minute of it.

  She nodded. More arousal flowed to coat his hand. The wet smack of his palm against her lower lips reached her ears. His pleased smile grew.

  “Love that sound,” he groaned.

  He pumped faster into her. Her breathy moans added to wet, sucking noises. They would’ve embarrassed her, but the carnal stamp of approval on his face stopped the awkward feeling. She lifted her bottom and moved with him.

  “I can’t wait to feel your greedy muscles massaging my dick.” He leaned closer, pushing his fingers deeper into her. “You’re going to milk my cock dry, Harley.” He brushed his lips to her cheek. “My release is yours, and you are going to take every last drop. Understand?”

  She inhaled sharply.

  He growled. “Do. You. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  He grunted in response and kissed her hard, still working her body with quick pumps. The curl and thrust of his fingers turned into a grinding press of his palm to her clit. She careened over the edge. Pleasure, pain, ecstasy—it all rolled into the intense waves whipping through her body. She opened her mouth on a soundless cry.

  The motion of his hand kept the orgasm going. She thrashed against the intensity of the release, but he forced her to ride the edge for longer than she thought possible. Finally, he yanked his fingers free and jerked her limp body into his arms. He kissed her as if what they shared was their first and last kiss. She returned it, giving him everything she had, more than she’d ever given another. It lasted forever, yet not long enough. Between one stroke of his tongue and the next, his image faded.

  Her arms dropped to her sides. She knelt on trembling legs and glanced around. She was alone.

  Again.

  She cradled her hand with its incomplete symbol. “I think this is my hell. Being alone when all I want to do is curl up next to the man sworn to hunt down and destroy the brothers and sisters I never knew I had.”

  Chapter Eight

  Calan panted through the lust and pain tightening his body. Tingles that had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with the out-of-body experience he’d just had burned every particle of his being. The only thing that made his suffering bearable was the memory of his soon-to-be mate lost to desire.

  “Was it worth it?”

  His brother Rhys’s agony-laced voiced echoed in Calan’s head. Guilt welled. In order to accomplish the feat he hadn’t been sure was possible, he’d drawn strength from his willing brother the same way Calan had over the lifetime they’d been together.

  “Yes,” Calan rasped. He switched to the more intimate form of communication he shared with his siblings. “I never knew how good it’d be. I felt her pleasure, Rhys. It was different from what we feel, but no less satisfying. I can’t wait to join our bodies.”

  “Don’t be a fool. The female is Dar’s child. Whether she’s fought the lure of her heritage or not matters little. The same chaotic force that twisted the king of the Seelies has worked its way through Harley from the moment she took her first breath, luring her, tempting her, corrupting her.”

  “It does matter. She is strong. She—”

  Rhys growled. “She is not pure. The next time she willingly acts on her hatred, she’ll be lost. One act of violence, and—”

  “She will not intentionally hurt someone. I saw—”

  An anguished roar resounded between Calan’s ears. He didn’t flinch but lowered his gaze at the sight of his brother’s lengthening jaw and reddened eyes as he slipped into their alternate Huntsman form, the hellish state where they were half beast and half man.

  “You didn’t block me soon enough, brother. I saw the evidence stamped on her body, the same as you did, but you refuse to acknowledge it. She has caused pain at least once and enjoyed it. You know
as well as I, the euphoria is a drug to fairies. They’ll seek that high, over and over, until they can’t function without the screams of their victims.” Rhys groaned. “You’re letting your damn dick make your decisions for you. Think with your other head before it’s too late.”

  Calan raised his gaze to meet Rhys’s wavering image. “Yes, she’s experienced pleasure from another’s pain, but she has not sought it out again. For me, Rhys. How can I not look upon her with respect?”

  “Mating her is not a permanent fix. Now that she knows what being Unseelie can offer her, she will always be tempted.” Rhys turned pleading eyes upon him. “She might not mean to embrace her darker side, but what if people dear to her are hurt, and she strikes out at their attackers? Hurts them? Maybe kills them? Think of it, brother. The need to seek vengeance is powerful. We feel it, know how all-consuming it is and fight the temptation to give in too.”

  “I’ve watched friends and family suffer and die.” Harley’s words repeated in Calan’s head, echoing the scenario Rhys offered.

  Calan cracked his jaw. “I will act as her buffer, shielding her from the lure of its false power.”

  “I know you will try, but she can still choose to shun your protection. If you mate her, she’ll take you down.” Rhys’s weary sigh cut worse than his rage had. “I don’t want to turn the Hunt upon you. Do not finish it. Use her to gain your release, then take back what you shared before it’s too late.”

  Calan contemplated his brother’s words. Rhys, for all his faults, had always been the voice of reason, at least in everyone else’s lives if not his own. He also knew what a leap Calan’s choice had been for him. For a god, or the child of one, to mate was not a decision to be made in the spur of the moment. Calan basically had, though.

  From the moment he first saw her, he’d known she was special. Nine years ago, she’d been pure—she hadn’t experienced the high of her darker side. Had he bonded to her then, he could’ve saved her in truth, but she hadn’t returned to him. She’d broken her promise and betrayed his trust.