Ascension

by Felicity Heaton

  He withdrew his fingers.

  She frowned and opened her eyes. They widened when he licked his fingers clean, his gaze locked with hers, intent written clearly in his eyes. He was going to have her and it was going to be as rough as she wanted it to be.

  He motioned for her to roll over and Lealandra did it with a smile, happy to do his bidding when they were in the bedroom because she knew he would make it worth her while. Her eyes closed when he ran his hands down her back and over her bottom. They stopped there, massaging her buttocks and making her feel incredibly relaxed. He moved on, shifting her legs apart and dipping his hand back down. His fingers found her clit and she sighed as he circled it. It felt nice, but a little slow paced for her liking right now.

  She wriggled again.

  Taig growled, commanding and powerful, sending a thrill through her. Damn, she did like it when he took control.

  His hands grasped her hips and raised them, so she was kneeling. Before she could even think about what he was going to do, his fingers had spread her open and his tongue was darting against her flesh, torturing her clit and stealing a gasping moan from her. She grasped the bedclothes and furrowed her brow as he licked her, swirling his tongue one moment and sucking the next. She wriggled her hips but he growled, stopping her from moving. Her mouth opened and she moaned with each brush of his tongue over her sensitive flesh and then groaned when he pushed two fingers back into her and began pumping her with them. She wanted him inside her. Needed him.

  As if sensing that need, he pulled away. She had a second to breathe and then he was sliding his hard length deep into her core. Her grip on the bedcovers tightened and her knuckles burned white. Taig kicked her legs further apart and buried himself deeper, until his balls brushed her clit. She groaned and raised her backside into him. He growled again, grasped her hips so tightly that she could feel each point where his fingertips pressed into her skin, and began thrusting.

  Lealandra raised herself up onto her hands and bit her lip. Taig pulled almost all the way out and plunged back in, groaning with each deep thrust into her. She tensed her muscles around him, intent on feeling every inch of his cock sliding into her, and moaned along with him. Her breasts swung with each hard thrust and her breathing quickened until she was gasping at air as choppily as Taig was. He held her tighter, his movements gaining speed, his balls hitting her clit with each meeting of their hips. She groaned and pressed back against him, desperate to climax.

  One hand left her thigh. Taig grunted, reached under her, and then his fingers found her clit. He rubbed it, keeping tempo with the fast deep glide of his cock. She moaned and furrowed her eyebrows, biting down on her lip and tensing around him again. She wanted to climax. Was so close. Just a little more and she would be there, and she knew he would be right there with her.

  His fingers pinched her nub.

  Stars shot across the black of her eyes and she shuddered with her orgasm. Heat chased the tiny points of light, washing through her entire body as it convulsed around Taig’s cock, clenching it. He growled, thrust deeper and harder for a few seconds more, and then came to a juddering halt. His hips pumped quick and shallow as he spilled himself inside her.

  Lealandra moaned in unison with him and then collapsed onto her front on the bed when he withdrew his softening length from her. He hit the bed next to her, breathing hard and fast. Sweat beaded his brow and she smiled as she wiped it away. Her hand fell to the bed, her bones too limp to lift for any amount of time. Taig pulled her over to him, dragging her so she was lying with half of her chest pressed against his and her head resting on his shoulder. She sighed. She just wanted to sleep forever in Taig’s arms, satisfied and content.

  Taig’s heart beat against her ear, the pace of it gradually slowing as he caught his breath. She sighed again and he wrapped his arm around her, his hand settling on her ribs. It shifted to her left arm and he stroked it. Her skin warmed beneath his fingers and she frowned when a deep sense of connection to Taig suffused her body. His hand came to rest over her upper arm. It burned. The warmth of it added to her sense of satisfaction.

  She realised that he was touching the mark he had put on her. She looked up at him, her gaze tracing his noble profile, and willed him to look at her so she could ask him again what the mark meant and see the answer in his eyes.

  “Taig,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb him if he was falling asleep. He frowned. “What does it mean?”

  He smiled.

  He wasn’t going to answer her. She curled up against him and focused on the weight of his hand on her arm. His mark. She smiled. He was staking his territory in a permanent way. That had to be it. Taig had bonded with her.

  She grinned at the thought.

  “What is it?” Taig murmured and opened his eyes, squinting at her. “I’m trying to sleep here.”

  “Bonding,” she said and he raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

  “You still on that?”

  “It’s a bonding symbol.” Her grin widened. “We each wear the other’s mark. It’s practically like being married.”

  “Whoa, there!” Taig shot bolt upright. “No one mentioned anything about getting hitched. Demons have no place marrying humans.”

  “I’m not human,” she countered and sat up too. His words hadn’t offended her. She had said hers to get a reaction and they had done just that. She pouted and stroked the mark on his arm, continuing to toy with him. “And I thought you would want to marry me. I mean, all the unprotected sex... I thought you wanted us to have a little baby and get married, and settle down together in a house with a white picket fence and a yard.”

  “Now I know you’re not being serious,” he said with a frown. She frowned right back at him, wondering what had given her away. It wasn’t the baby or the marriage part. She wanted both of those with Taig and knew that deep in his heart he probably wanted them too. He pulled her to him and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’d never want a house with a picket fence. Suburbia just isn’t you.”

  “Oh, really. Then do tell me what is ‘me’.” Lealandra rested her head against his shoulder. He fell back onto the bed again, his arm around her, and sighed at the ceiling.

  “Let’s see, sweet cheeks.” His hand left her side and he stroked her hair, running his fingers through it and untangling the knots.

  Lealandra looked up at him, studying his face as he thought. He would make beautiful babies. She didn’t care that they would have mixed genes and would be part demon, part witch, and part human. She didn’t care what people would think and she would make sure her children grew up knowing that their parents loved them and there was nothing wrong with them, because they were perfect, born of love and happiness.

  She was getting ahead of herself, but she couldn’t help thinking about her future and the part she wanted Taig to play in it. He would make a good father, would make sure that their children would understand their demon side and accept it at an early age. He wouldn’t make any mistakes with them, not like his father had with him, and she would help him teach their children everything they needed to know about demons, witches and humans. They would both make sure that their children knew they had a place in this world and were a part of it, and they would both protect them and keep them safe.

  “The countryside.” Taig untangled another knot, unravelling her thoughts at the same time and bringing her back to him. She liked the feel of his fingers in her hair. It was soothing.

  “Just the countryside?” She liked this conversation too. They had never talked about their future before, and she got the feeling Taig was doing just that, and that he had put a lot of thought into how it was going to turn out.

  “No… English countryside… somewhere near a little village full of old thatched buildings. A small manor with a beautiful rose garden and a fountain. Not too big. Cotswold stone and with pillars at the entrance. It would suit you just perfect.”

  Lealandra frowned. He wasn’t talking about a dream place. He looked at her
, his eyes open and full of honesty. She had never pieced it together before now. The way Taig spoke sometimes, he didn’t sound American. His accent sounded mixed and the words he used weren’t right for her country. She remembered the picture of his parents. They were in a garden. A beautiful rose garden. A chill swept over her.

  “That’s a real place,” she whispered, holding his gaze so she could see the truth in it when he answered.

  “Actually, that’s a real place that I own.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You grew up there. You’re British!”

  He smiled. “You’re not going to hold that against me are you, sweet cheeks? Don’t tell me you can accept the demon thing but not the ex-pat side of me?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Not at all. I just can’t believe that I didn’t realise before now… and… you really want to go there with me?”

  He shrugged and she frowned at him. For a moment, she had thought he was being serious about their relationship and the things he was saying. He smiled again, reached out, and brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek.

  “Of course I want to go there with you.” His expression shifted to one of wariness. “But I haven’t been back since my parents—you know. I left there, wanted to leave my past behind me, but now I feel I can return… and besides, the place really is perfect for you. Quiet, beautiful, and full of old witches that could help you with your magic.”

  “Old witches?” That piqued her curiosity.

  “Ancient.” He stroked her cheek again. “Their magic keeps them going. They have a strong relationship with it. I figured you might want to learn from them. They used to know my mother. I’m sure I could put in a good word for you.”

  “Your mother knew witches?”

  He nodded again. “My father didn’t quite see eye to eye with them so they only came to the manor when he wasn’t around, but my mum went to see them every week. I think she wanted to learn magic. She wanted to be different, like my father.”

  Lealandra smiled and closed her eyes. She was different, just like Taig, and he was right about meeting with the old witches. She wanted to see them and see if they could help her develop a stronger relationship with her magic.

  “So, you want to come with me back to my old place?” Taig said as casual as anything but she could feel the underlying nerves in him. Was this like his version of asking her to go steady with him? It was a bit late for him to be asking that after they had both marked each other with a sign of bonding.

  She wrapped her arms around him. “I’d love to… and then we can get married.”

  He laughed. “You are insatiable.”

  “That wasn’t a no.”

  “No… it wasn’t a no.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “It wasn’t a yes either.”

  Lealandra rolled her eyes. It was as close to a yes as she was going to get out of him for now, and that was enough for her. It was nice to have him opening up to her at last. He felt so different since he had shown his demon form to her—comfortable and calm. Had he finally accepted that part of himself and her love for him? Wasn’t he going to fight her anymore? She finally felt as though things were serious between them and he had let her into the fortress that protected his heart.

  Taig held her in silence for a few minutes, the air between them comfortable, and then he tensed.

  “What’s wrong?” she murmured against his chest, gradually drifting off to sleep.

  “Something’s been bothering me.”

  “What?” She pushed sleep from her mind and looked up at Taig.

  “How easy would it be for someone to pretend to be someone else, to sound like them?”

  “Using magic?”

  He nodded.

  “Easy, sweet cheeks,” she said in his voice, a perfect imitation of him.

  He shuddered and glared at her. “If you ever do that again in the bedroom, I’m leaving.”

  She laughed. He didn’t.

  “You’re thinking about the phone call Isabelle got, aren’t you?” She thought about everything that Isabelle had told her. It made sense that Mariana would want to warn Isabelle and any witch outside the coven at the time that they would be in danger if they returned, but then what Taig was implying made a whole lot more sense. Gregori wanted to finish her off. What better way than to have her come to him?

  “It’s a trap.” Taig’s expression remained serious.

  “I know.” She laid her head back down on his shoulder and placed her hand against his chest. “Gregori wants me to come to him. He doesn’t need to invite me. I was already going.”

  Lealandra closed her eyes and held Taig. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her head. If Gregori wanted a fight, he was going to get one.

  The moment they woke tomorrow, they were going to arm up and head out. She wouldn’t fail Isabelle or anyone trapped in the coven. She was going to fight for them and for herself. She was going to fight for her future.

  She was going to kill Gregori.

  A sense of dread filled her.

  She only hoped this wouldn’t be the last time she laid in Taig’s arms.

  She wanted that dream he had for them, more than anything.

  CHAPTER 23

  Witches.

  Taig growled, grabbed the man who had attempted to tackle him, and threw him across the expansive room in the coven building.

  He hated them.

  Well, there were a few exceptions.

  He glanced across the fray at Lealandra. She was fighting hard, backed up by three female witches around her age that were strong, and Isabelle. He could never hate Lealandra, and he couldn’t hate her parents, not if he was going to remain on good terms with them, and he didn’t mind the witches back near where he grew up, but other than those, he hated them.

  Give him demons, shadows, angels, any of the nefarious creatures residing in the underworld, any day of the week, and he would be happy to scrap it out. But witches.

  They fought dirty.

  His head spun as a spell slammed into him, knocking him off his feet and sapping his power. The drain was weak and temporary enough that it only pissed him off. The witches they were fighting right now weren’t a threat but their half-assed spells were beginning to get on his nerves.

  He roared at the group of young male witches who were casting the spells and stormed towards them, making his way past the toppled dark red couches and the overturned tables of the huge open living area. The lights were low, half of the standing floor lamps broken in the raging storm of battle happening all around him.

  Casualty numbers were rising fast and their group of witches was dwindling. They were already down around half their number, almost forty dead, but nearly one hundred littered the room and the corridors around it. It was all taking its toll on Lealandra. He could see it each time he looked at her. She hadn’t wanted so many to sacrifice themselves, but this was a war, a revolution, and that meant some paid with their lives for the freedom of others. Everyone here had chosen to come and to fight. Those who had been afraid, too young or old or too weak magically were hiding on the lower levels where they would be safe. Every floor from the end of living quarters upwards was a war zone. Lealandra’s group had teleported straight to the eighteenth floor and into the stronger witches, but they still weren’t fighting the highest level ones. Those waited on the floor above with Gregori.

  A broken window in the long bank that lined the outside wall allowed a chill breeze to blast through the room, carrying the scent of cinders and blood. The world outside was dark, a myriad of twinkling city lights swallowed by sheer silence. This high up, the world didn’t make a sound.

  Three stronger male witches followed him towards his next prey, his back up but annoying nonetheless. He didn’t need an entourage. He had told Lealandra that until he was sick of hearing it himself but she hadn’t budged. She was worried about him and that meant he was stuck with three dark haired young men who looked as pleased about the situation as he felt. W
hen Lealandra had pulled out the puppy dog eyes, it had been game over. He never could turn her down when she looked like that.

  The man in the middle of the group of four witches he was storming towards backed off a step. Taig grinned. He had just elected himself the first one to die. The world sped by in a blur as Taig crossed the room in a heartbeat, appearing behind the man and snapping his neck before he could even realise he was there. The remaining three turned to look at him, their wide eyes reflecting the horror Taig could feel pounding in their veins. He slammed his fist into the pretty face of the young man to his right, sending him flying across the room head over heels and barrelling into another group of witches. Lealandra shot Taig a dirty look. He winked. She blasted the witch with a spell that Taig didn’t like the look of. The moment it hit the man, he convulsed. Taig flinched when the man’s limbs twisted in grotesque ways and then he went still. Dead. Taig noted not to get on Lealandra’s nerves too much during the fight. He didn’t want to end up playing contortionist too.

  A spell whizzed past his head, narrowly missing his ear, and Taig growled at the man who had thrown it. He backed away, right into one of Taig’s entourage. The man touched his shoulder, their eyes met, and his foe fell lifeless to the floor.

  What kind of witches had Lealandra dumped him with?

  Another of his men touched the remaining witch and he too fell to the floor.

  Necromancers? Taig shook his head. No human had found a way to govern the spirits. They refused to listen to them and their magic. Perhaps these men were just more powerful than he had given them credit for. He had underestimated them. Well, he grinned to himself, they had probably underestimated him too. Demons weren’t the only ones who didn’t recognise the strength of the power in him when they met him, not until he unleashed it.

  Taig stood still, surrounded by chaos on the empty floor, eyes locked with the men on his team. They were sure, confident, and bordering on cocky as they stared at him with empty eyes, no sign of feeling in their features. They were mocking him. Silently challenging him. Taig tilted his chin up, coolly held the leaders gaze, a man who looked around the same age as himself, somewhere in his mid-thirties, and with equally dark hair but very pale skin. The man’s blue eyes stared impassively back at him. Taig would show him just who was stronger.