by Jane Cousins
“Duh, yes?” Darcy added an eye roll for optimal effect.
“Wanna bet?”
“No, I don’t want to bet.”
“Really? That doesn’t sound like you, Darcy. Backing down from a challenge. You claim you’re immune to me. I’m calling your bluff, prove it.”
“Prove it? Prove that I’m immune to you and your lecherous lust charms? Exhibit A, Cyrano.” Darcy held up her hands. “I’ve never laid a finger on you. Never batted my eyes your way. Nor have I, or will I ever, say your name in a breathy, come hither manner.”
Declan leaned forward, flickers of violet flames dancing in his eyes. “Challenge accepted.”
Darcy slammed her wineglass down on the nearby side table. “What? No challenge was issued.” Okay, where was that icicle when she needed it, suddenly her gut was churning with heat and her heart was speeding along at a surprising gallop as she watched Declan flow gracefully to his feet and stalk deliberately towards her.
“Stand up.”
There was a command in Declan’s voice that she’d never heard, and it did not turn her on, it aggravated her. The man was insane, having to prove that no woman on the planet could resist his charms. “Yeah, right.” Ignoring him. Not reacting. Not even mildly intrigued. Annoyed. Irritated… aggravated, that’s what she was.
“Afraid?” The timbre of his voice, was low, husky.
A shiver raced down Darcy’s spine, one of pure heat, it banished the constant chill that plagued her instantaneously. Damn, she liked that heat. Had begun to associate it with Declan. “You’re mad. I don’t do afraid.”
“Prove it. Stand up.”
Darcy shocked even herself, she stood up. What the… ? “This is ridiculous. You should go.”
“I think I should stay.” Damn, she was gorgeous. He had her off-kilter, which was clearly the only way to get through all those prickly combative layers.
If just once she’d accused him of being family, then he would know the mission was blown and unrecoverable. But Darcy never called him cousin. Rarely used his name at all. And if he could get her to say it in a breathy, come hither manner. Well, then Darcy would have no choice but to recognise that she was attracted to him.
“I warn you. I’m armed.” Darcy narrowed her eyes and glared up at him, with her boots on only a few inches separated them in height.
“I’d be surprised if you weren’t.” Declan stepped a little closer. “That only makes this more fun.”
The shocks kept coming for Darcy, she didn’t whip out a weapon. She didn’t put Declan in a chokehold and march his fine ass over to the Transportal. No, she took a step back.
She wasn’t backing down. She just didn’t understand what the hell was going on. And why she wasn’t solving that confusion with her usual brand of blood and bruises. Damn the man, he kept coming, and worse, she kept backing up. Almost as if he was stalking her.
Darcy had never seen Declan look so… intent. Yes, there was that smile twisting up the edges of his gorgeous mouth but it wasn’t the expected taunting, triumphant smirk, it was one of heat and the promise of wicked, sinful things to come. And his eyes, the usual cheery twinkle had been replaced by a seriousness that was disconcerting. Heat was banked in those violet orbs, admiration and… desire. Good Goddess, what the hell was going on, and why wasn’t she putting a stop to it?
“I…” Darcy’s back hit the column supporting the overarching climbing rose made of iron. “You’re insane.” But if that were the case then she must be too, because damn it, if her knickers weren’t getting a little damp.
Only inches separated them. Darcy’s heart rate increased, if that were possible as Declan leaned down, was he going to kiss her? Shit, he was going to kiss her.
Then at the last moment, he turned his head, resting his lips against her ear, his heated breath pebbling her skin. “Turn around.”
Again with that serious, commanding voice that made things low in her body luxuriate in a wave of unfamiliar heat. She turned her back on no one. Yet, as Declan slid a hand to her waist and pressed gently, Darcy found herself facing the cream coloured iron column. “You…” She halted as Declan placed a soft… had she imagined it, kiss on the side of her throat. “I think-”
“There’s your first problem.” The heat of his body soaked into her skin, he was standing that close. “You need to stop thinking.”
“This is ridiculous. Declan.”
“That’s my name, but it didn’t exactly sound breathy or come hither enough. Let’s see if we can’t work on that.” He pressed up against her.
Grrr, Darcy didn’t recognise herself. She made a last ditch effort to break what ever spell Declan appeared to have cast over her. Attempting to buck him off.
“Uh-uh. Am I going to have to tie you down to get you to behave?” Declan said it as a joke, but he felt Darcy shudder ever so slightly. “Do you like that idea?” He queried, whispering in her ear. Savouring the feel of her body pressed against his. The scent of her wrapping around his senses. “Hmmm… let’s see if we can’t make that happen.”
Darcy, under Declan’s guidance, found herself raising her arms above her head. She didn’t know why until there came the sound of a soft click. “What the…?”
Her head shot up. Declan had used her own handcuffs to secure her to a low twining iron branch. She opened her mouth to curse him, but ended up gasping instead as he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin at the side of her throat, planting kisses, nibbling lightly.
Damn him, how did he know she was so sensitive there? She forgot about protesting. As one of his hands slid down over her buttocks, further still, to tease her bare thigh. His fingers danced along the frilly ties of her stocking. His other hand slipping around her waist, diving up and under her fitted black short-sleeve sweater to rest against her bare stomach. Her muscles spasmed and jumped under his touch.
“Careful.”
Darcy hadn’t realised she was writhing against Declan until he pressed harder against her. How embarrassing. “Stop.” Her voice almost unrecognisable, so weak, so breathless. Lacking anything in the way of real power.
“Right tone. Wrong word.” Declan murmured, nuzzling her hair aside as he trailed kisses across the back of her neck.
Darcy could hear the amusement in his raspy, thickened with desire voice. Damn, that sound, the feel of his lips on her flesh, it was… exciting. And confusing. Why wasn’t he stripping her naked? She was all but at his mercy. His hand hadn’t moved from her stomach and her breasts felt full, aching for his touch. She must have imagined it, but it sounded like someone whimpered in need.
Behind her Declan stepped away, and she almost whimpered again, missing the heat of him pressed against her. And the hand on her tummy disappeared too. Merciful Lady, if this was some elaborate game where he cut and run, making her a laughing stock she would… Darcy jumped as she felt Declan’s warm mouth plant kisses across her lower back. Her top was rucked up. Damn, that felt good. And the thought of him kneeling behind her… even though she was the one shackled in place, it made her feel… worshipped.
Declan trailed warm, questing fingers up the back of her thighs, under her micro-mini skirt. Grrr, she should tell him to stop, and mean it this time. This wager of his was ridiculous. She would never… repeat never, sink so low as to utter his name in a low, breathy, come hither manner. So she should call a halt to this. But then she became mightily distracted by the fact that his fingers were dragging her lacy knickers down over her thighs, past her boots, to the floor. Bloody Hell, it was official, she was incredibly turned on right now.
Declan ignored his aching cock. Shit, he was used to that. Especially around Darcy. Thinking about Darcy. Trying not to think about Darcy. It had been his curse since he hit puberty. Darcy. And he’d promised himself that if he ever got a chance, he would not blow it by being selfish.
This moment, everything leading up to it… it was about opening Darcy’s eyes. Making her aware of him as a man. It was hard… hah, fucking stupid
time for a pun, but there was too much at stake to falter now.
He flipped her skirt up, tucking the end in the waistband. Damn, he’d had that gorgeous ass wriggled in his face often in the past but it hadn’t prepared him for the ripe perfection under all that plaid and lace.
Darcy’s breath froze in her throat. Did Declan just bite her on the ass? That was… that was… Hmmm, her thoughts became tangled as Declan planted warm kisses on the back of her right thigh, even as his hand slid up ever so slowly between her legs, parting the curls, his thumb brushing back and forth over her clit. It was a kaleidoscope of sensations. His mouth on her flesh. His thumb strumming her.
And then he took things up a notch. A finger spearing her, to be joined by a second. Darcy opened her legs wider. Welcoming the feel of him dipping into her tight, hot core.
Declan listened to Darcy moan and had to bite back one himself. She was so responsive under his touch. So hot. So wet. So perfect. He didn’t want to ruin it. This was all about Darcy. But he couldn’t help himself, there was one selfish thing he had to do, was compelled to do.
Darcy moaned in protest this time, as Declan’s invading fingers retreated… no… don’t stop… she almost opened her mouth to say his name. But before she could he grabbed her by the hips and dragged her in close, bending her over a little awkwardly, his mouth suddenly on her sex. His tongue spearing her core, over and over again. Suckling.
Darcy cried out, her arms were pulled tight over her head, her body weirdly angled, but that just made the whole thing hotter, more urgent. It couldn’t get any better. Then it did.
Declan pulled Darcy in tighter still. Ducking lower so he could flick his tongue across her needy, sensitive clit. She bucked in reflex, grinding her body back against him. Darcy came with a loud non-verbal shout, the orgasm rippling through her in a series of pounding waves that had her toes straightening, her back arching and her head falling forward.
Shit. Declan sat back on his heels. His cock was fit to explode. He didn’t care. He could taste Darcy still. Reaching up he wasn’t surprised to see his hand was trembling as he pulled her skirt back down. And his legs were as shaky as a new-born colt as he got to his feet. Darcy’s breath was still coming in ragged pants. But he… they weren’t finished yet. He pressed up against her back, resting his lips against her ear.
“Say it.” His voice came out low, gravelly. A heartbeat passed, then two. He waited.
“Declan.” His name fell from her lips in an alien, breathy, come hither manner. Darcy froze, expecting many things. Declan to laugh in triumph. Him to rip her clothes off and take things to the next level. What she wasn’t expecting was for him to kiss her gently on the side of the neck, whisper thank you, and walk away.
“Declan?” Her tone was far from breathy now, as she twisted in place. “Declan?” She just managed to catch a glimpse of him disappearing into the Transportal. That… fiend… he was leaving her shackled? Just like that?
He pleasures her, doesn’t get off himself and just leaves. That was just so typical of him because he was so bloody aggravating. No, she was upgrading him to infuriating.
Darcy stood on her tiptoes and with two quick twists, snapped open the handcuffs. Hell, he was leaving because he knew she could free herself. Had known from the moment he put them on her.
Shit, what was worse? That she’d just had the most mind blowing orgasm ever? Or the fact that Declan knew that she had never been at his mercy? Shit. Shit. Shit. No, the worse thing about the whole episode was how she felt right now… needy, aching, ready for more… Well, that crap stopped right now. She was Darcy - fricking - Montgomery and she did not do feelings… ever.
Chapter Thirteen
Declan should have factored in Darcy’s reaction to being backed into a corner. She was pissed.
And you know what, he was pissed right back at her.
His mission was one step forward, four-hundred and twenty-seven steps back. He had no idea why that number, but he kept hearing Darcy mutter it under her breath.
She’d breezed into her office just after eight that morning, set about ignoring him, muttering that number under her breath every few seconds. Finally she’d scooped up her car keys and headed for the door. Pausing momentarily, looking his way when he made to follow her.
She then proceeded to make it very clear, in no uncertain terms, that she had Special Liaison business to attend to this morning. Since he was assigned purely to the missing Incubus case, she expected him to remain here and put together a list of currently vacant properties in the Sanctuary where the Demon might potentially be hiding out.
When Declan had suggested that he visit the Fire Elemental Altar instead. Darcy’s clear blue gaze had turned glacial arctic, reluctantly promising that they’d go together later in the day.
So he’d spent the morning on the phone with Cousin Maureen, who worked as a Police Dispatcher and was the biggest gossip in the Sanctuary. Maureen had a magical talent for always being in the right place at the right time to oh-so-accidentally overhear or witness all the latest happenings. Around Maureen private correspondence somehow just came into her line of vision and phone lines got mysteriously crossed.
Chatting with Maureen about which buildings were vacant and why was a lot quicker than Declan spending his morning on the phone or the internet following up on real estate listings, rentals and people’s holiday plans.
About lunch time, Declan ruefully ran a hand through his hair and began smiling, then he began laughing. Shit, it was Darcy, what other kind of reaction had he expected? That she’d run into his arms and declare her undying love?
He was lucky she hadn’t taken out her knives and lopped off his poor aching cock. Grrr, and yet again he was thinking about how responsive she’d been under his touch. He’d barely gotten any sleep last night, and four times he’d been forced to get out of bed and take an icy shower to cool down.
It was worth it. Darcy was worth it. Okay, so she was ignoring him. But she hadn’t hurt him, or even threatened to hurt him. Could it be? Was he starting to make inroads into Darcy Montgomery’s heart? Opening her eyes to seeing him as a man, a lover, a life partner?
He knew this would be a challenging mission. And he wouldn’t blow it now. Wouldn’t get discouraged or over-confident. He just needed to put his head down, put a lid on Aengus’s whining and keep pushing forward.
Shit, and the memory of last night popped into Declan’s head yet again, his head down, Darcy writhing under his touch. Crap. What he needed was a distraction… some coffee, no, something to eat. Yeah, keep his energy levels up, he was going to need to be firing on all cylinders in order to handle his Hellcat. She would not go down without a fight. And damn, it just made him love her more.
He’d sensed a deep connection with Darcy when they’d first spoken at eight years of age. It had been an unexpected life line for him. One he’d grabbed for with fervent tenacity. Acting rashly, he’d linked them on the spiritual plane. It had been a selfish and desperate move.
From that moment on an awareness had ignited, connecting them. Declan had always know where Darcy was, and what she was feeling. And those ice clear blue eyes had often locked with his over the years, in amusement, annoyance, exasperation and that same… awareness.
As they got older and bumped into one another more and more in their official capacities, Declan had been very careful to keep his distance. They weren’t friends exactly, but they did have a teasing rapport. Darcy tolerated him, which spoke volumes in itself, for Darcy tolerated few people. And while he’d never seriously attempted to flirt with her before this last week, that awareness between them had grown over the years, beginning to feel weighty with anticipation. The expectation all but pressing against his skin.
And sometimes, very rarely, he’d seen an expression flicker though Darcy’s serial killer eyes, a mixture of confusion and assessment. She saw him. More importantly, she didn’t fall over herself praising his looks. Or try to insinuate herself into every aspect of hi
s life, suddenly liking the same things, or expressing any interest in his social activities.
No, she just saw him as Declan. Not a relative. And thankfully not a friend. And okay, she had a few misconceptions about him and his lifestyle that he’d deliberately cultivated. But he’d had his reasons at the time. And he prayed like crazy that she would understand and not hurt him when she found out the truth.
Sunshine blazed and a soft breeze lifted Declan’s hair out of his eyes as he stepped outside the building housing Darcy’s office. Nice day. He waved at Cam McKenzie and Tanner Bright striding up the wide set of stairs, heading towards the Police Station.
As he made his way across the street, cutting through the Square, Declan waved to several more relatives and friends. Of course with his mind on the conundrum that was Darcy, it wasn’t all that surprising he was distracted. But as an almost Enforcer, it peeved him somewhat when Rowan, Leader of the Pagan Priestesses, stepped out from behind the gazebo, blocking his path. She was flanked by the two enormous wolfhounds, whose grey fur flickered with green fire that wrapped around their legs and massive bodies like living vines.
The wolfhounds bared their teeth at Declan.
Damn, he’d left his sword behind. Hadleigh would kick his ass if she could see him right now. “Here to deliver more threats?”
“Declan.” Rowan paused, swallowing hard, as if saying the name his adoptive parents gave him pained her. “No threats. An offer.”
“Let me guess. Ride off into the sunset with you and your blinkered minions. Leave this plane and return to Tir na nOg with you, and no one will get hurt and my every wish will be fulfilled?”
“You just need to say the word.” Rowan lifted her chin, sunlight bringing out the red threads twining through her dark blonde locks that fell down past her shoulders.
