Seduced by Danger

by Stephanie Julian

  The still rational part of his brain told him to get the hell out of there.

  He knew he couldn’t. Not now.

  And what could one kiss hurt? She was asleep. She’d never know. And he didn’t have that much time left to regret anything he did so…

  He leaned closer, letting his lips settle onto the back of her neck, unable to contain his groan. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

  His.

  Until he died.

  Well, at least I won’t have to wait long to be put out of my misery.

  * * * * *

  Warmth surrounded Cara. She felt so safe and protected, she knew she must be dreaming.

  She loved to dream but she hadn’t been sleeping enough to have many. Those dreams she did have all starred Michael.

  Damn, if she’d known she’d dream like this, she would’ve asked Flavia for that sleeping potion months ago.

  She felt him at her back, where he always slept, curled around her. Hell, she could even smell him, this dream was so vivid. He smelled so good, like sandalwood and citrus and heat.

  She wanted to turn and bury her nose in the hollow of his throat and since it was her dream, she did.

  The sheets tangled around her arms and legs but she managed to roll over and reach for him. Her arms slid around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. Had his hair grown? Why would she make his hair longer in a dream?

  She stilled then forced her heavy eyes open.

  And stared straight into Michael’s eyes.

  In the dark, she could barely see the outline of his face but she knew it was him.

  When she pulled in a breath, his scent flooded into her, making her gasp.

  “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

  Michael’s hands clamped around her hips, holding her in place, as if he thought she might try to get away. Or move closer.

  He’d always been so careful to keep her exactly where he wanted her. Or at least where he thought she should be—just far enough away.

  But here he was, where he swore he couldn’t ever be again, and the time for asking questions passed in a split second.

  Her hunger for him rose up and consumed her, even through the drugging weight of Flavia’s sleeping potion.

  With her hands on the back of his neck, she pulled him close and kissed him, all the love, anger and fear combining with the hunger to make her entire body sensitized to him.

  The first touch of their lips made her moan, and the sexual energy that flared between them fed into her arus. The need she’d been suppressing turned into a dark, greedy, devouring passion.

  She opened her mouth and Michael’s tongue filled it, stroking along hers, demanding she let him in when there was no way she wanted him to stop. He kissed her with the dominance she’d learned to expect from him and she reveled in it, letting him take over, letting him lead.

  His hands released their tight grip on her hips and moved to her breasts. But the sheets tangled around them made it impossible for him to touch her how they both wanted.

  With a growl, he broke apart to stand by the bed then ripped the sheets away, leaving her lying on the bed naked. He froze, sheets still clutched in his hands as he looked down at her. She felt his gaze travel from the tips of her toes up her legs to the vee of her thighs, where she continued to remove all the hair from her pussy, just as she’d been forced to when she’d been a Mal captive.

  Now she did it because she wanted to, not because she was forced to. And because she knew he liked it.

  After a long minute where she thought he might actually rip the sheets in half, his gaze continued upward to her breasts, still firm and high. He’d always had a thing for her breasts, had loved to suckle her nipples, had been so good he’d made her orgasm with only his mouth on her breasts.

  Finally, he met her gaze and the heat ratcheted up another notch. His expression hardened into one she knew well from their time together. He was holding on to his control by the thinnest of margins. He didn’t want to release it and she would have to push him over the edge if she was going to get what she wanted. What she needed.

  For as long as she’d known him, he’d never willingly given in to his fierce passion. She knew he feared hurting her, knew he didn’t want to remind her of any of the other men who’d used her and who she’d used to live.

  But from the first time they’d been together, she’d known he was different.

  Hers.

  Slowly, she lifted her right hand to her left breast, cupping its weight and brushing her index finger over the tight tip. Her other hand slid to the middle of her stomach before beginning to trail down to her mound.

  She hadn’t even masturbated much in the past fifteen months since he’d left her. She had only enough energy to care for Aron, and even though she needed sex to live, she’d had no stomach for it. Not without him.

  So she’d buried that hunger, ignored it. Submerged it as much as she could.

  Now though, she felt like a woman presented with a reprieve from hell and she was going to make sure she got exactly what she wanted.

  And that meant pushing this man past his breaking point.

  The hand on her breast continued to knead while the one on her mound went straight for her clit, teasing the tiny nub until it stiffened, tingling with sensation and sending sharp bursts of pleasure through her pussy and into her womb.

  Before she came, though, she drifted her fingers to her sex, soaking her fingers in the moisture gathering there and rubbing it all over the silky lips.

  Her eyes wanted to close but she forced them to stay open just enough to be able to watch Michael, frozen at the side of the bed. Well, not completely immobile. His impressive erection made a large tent in the front of his black cargo pants. She swore she saw it pulse beneath the fabric. And his hands clenched in time with her strokes.

  Her breath hot and heavy in her lungs, she worked her fingers into her sheath and started to fuck herself with them. Slowly at first then faster as she felt her climax rising. The warm wetness of her pussy tightened around her fingers and she let herself enjoy the sensation.

  Her body knew what it wanted and her hips began to thrust—

  Michael grabbed her behind her knee with one hand and she slid across the bed while he tore his pants open with the other. He’d already shed his shirt. He barely had his erection free before he lifted her hips off the bed and seated his cock in her with one soul-shattering thrust.

  So good. Too good.

  They both cried out as their bodies merged, his cock pulsing in her sheath as she tightened around him.

  He paused for a few brief seconds, eyes closed as he took a deep breath. His hands tightened almost painfully on her but she grabbed his wrists to hold him in place.

  She knew he felt every tiny contraction of her body around his, knew that he was waiting for her to give him the signal to continue. He wouldn’t move, not until she’d made it clear she needed this as much as he did.

  Deliberately, she moved her hips the tiny bit his hold allowed. Up then back, sliding on his cock only a few centimeters at a time but with just enough friction to make her breath catch.

  It felt so good, so right, she had to have more. She squirmed in his hold, trying to get the right amount of friction, but he wouldn’t allow her to control the situation.

  He uttered her name like a strangled curse and his hips shot forward, burying his cock to the hilt.

  He began a long, slow retreat that hit every one of her nerve endings, making them sizzle with electricity.

  His next inward thrust was just a little harder and the next harder still until he fucked her so hard the bed shook with his intensity. Maintaining eye contact the whole time, he kept her on the edge of orgasm for so long, she thought she might pass out.

  She could barely breathe, her muscles so taut, she feared she might crack. But her body was so starved for sensation, it demanded more and she knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d made her beg.
/>   When her eyes finally drifted closed in surrender and her hands fell away from his wrists, he groaned deep in his throat and released his control.

  Lifting her while still lodged in her, he moved her to the center of the bed then spread out over her, enclosing her with his body.

  Her arus rose in her blood, reaching out to mingle with his, seeking so much more than a physical release. She wanted him to tie himself to her, to be blood bound. But she knew he wouldn’t—

  “Cara.” His voice, harsh with desire, made her pussy tighten in a short, sharp contraction and she moaned.

  His mouth clamped down on hers, forcing her lips open so his tongue could enter, lapping at hers with the same rhythm his hips maintained. She sucked on him as her hands curved around his shoulders, fingernails digging into the shifting muscles of his back as he held himself above her on his elbows.

  “Blessed Goddess, Cara.”

  His words held a desperation she’d never heard from him before but she couldn’t make her brain function enough to worry about it. She only wanted to come and to make him come as well. To give them both pleasure and to tie him to her just a little more.

  Her thighs slid up his then she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back. Tilting her pelvis up and making the base of his cock hit her clit with more precision.

  Gods yes, right there. She tightened around him, lifting into him, reaching for the orgasm she sensed so close.

  His cock, hard and swollen inside her, made every retreat and return a blessing and a curse.

  Then her arus surged like the hungry beast it was and slapped into his, melding their magic together and causing them to break together in an orgasm so shattering, she didn’t know if she’d live through it.

  Chapter Two

  Michael realized something was wrong only seconds after he came but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  He rolled to his back, bringing Cara along until she was pressed into his side, their bodies fused together with sweat and heat, her arms so tight around him he’d have to hurt her to break free.

  He never wanted to hurt her. He knew he had when he’d left her last year but he’d had no choice. The Mal had almost recaptured her and the secret of Aron’s birth would have made their baby a target as well.

  Because quercioli weren’t supposed to be able to have children, Aron would have been a prized test subject for the Mal, a lab rat. They would have twisted his mind until he became what Michael had been before he’d met Cara.

  Michael never wanted his child to live the life he’d been forced into at birth.

  He’d been born Mal, just like his father before him and his mother’s father. His family ties had made it almost impossible for him to be anything else. He’d been born with a caul, part of the placenta, over his face, a harmless medical phenomena for the eteri. But for Etruscans, it signified his tie to the evil sect of the Etruscans.

  His parents had seen it as icing on the cake.

  In ancient times, to be born Mal had meant a lifetime battling the countering forces of the Benendante, the perpetual fight of good and evil manifested on earth.

  But over the centuries, as the Malandante forces had grown, they’d branched out into all aspects of the world to become powerful players behind the scenes, their fingers in all aspects of business and politics.

  When Etruscan parents had children who were born Mal, most gave them up for adoption to unsuspecting eteri. Or they abandoned them to the elements.

  Maybe he’d have been better off if his parents had been pure Etruscans, untainted by the Mal.

  Of course, if he hadn’t been born Mal, he never would have met Cara and they never would have had Aron.

  And how fucked up was that?

  But now he’d screwed himself royally by giving in to his desire and taking her.

  He should have gotten the hell out of there before she woke.

  But no, he’d been a selfish bastard and fucked her until neither of them could move.

  And now he was pretty sure the blast of magic that had burst through them when they’d climaxed had fried his cloaking spell. And that probably meant he was dying.

  “Michael?” Cara’s voice far away. Even so, he could hear the worry in it. “Are you okay? Your heart’s pounding a mile a minute.”

  Vaffanculo, he was one stupid SOB. He needed to get the hell away.

  But he couldn’t seem to move. Or breathe.

  “Sorry…Cara. So…sorry.”

  Then he passed out.

  Cara cried out as Michael’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body began to convulse.

  Her brain went blank and she froze, watching him thrash on the bed for at least five seconds before she grabbed for the phone on the side table and dialed the only person she knew who could get her immediate help.

  “Sal! Oh gods, Sal, Michael’s dying and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Cara, is that you?”

  She started to sob and had to force the words from her throat. “Sal, please come. I don’t—”

  “Hang tight, babe. I’ll be right there.”

  The receiver clicked then went silent. She turned back to find Michael gasping for air and clutching at his chest.

  She reached for him, a prayer to the Mother Goddess Uni on her lips. What should she do? What—

  The clop of hooves announced Sal’s presence as he magically transported himself into her bedroom from wherever he’d been seconds before.

  She turned to find the salbinelli heading for the bed, a scowl drawn on his handsome features.

  She’d expected the Etruscan satyr to be alone. She hadn’t expected him to be accompanied by a beautiful woman who looked familiar.

  Cara didn’t have time to figure out who she was.

  Michael had stopped breathing.

  “Sal, please help him,” she pleaded. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Hell if I know,” he growled as he laid his hands on Michael’s chest. Michael had stopped convulsing but was turning an alarming shade of blue. “What the hell happened?”

  “We had sex. He was fine. And then… Oh gods, Sal, is this my fault? Did I do something to him? Did I—”

  “Cara bella, stop. You’re not helping.” Sal ran his hands just above Michael’s skin. “Fuck me, the boy’s gone and done it up good. Tilly, do you see?”

  The woman— Oh shit! Cara dropped into a deep curtsy for the Etruscan Goddess of the Spirit. “Lady of the Shadow, my apologies. I didn’t—”

  “Not a problem, sweetheart.” Hinthial waved a hand in her direction as she moved closer to the bed. “Yes, I see, Sal. The spell…it’s woven directly into his arus. Looks like their climax overloaded his magic, which blew the spell to smithereens and sent his body into shock. The spell drew power from his arus rather than working off its own power supply or a charm. His body couldn’t handle the stress. The spell would have killed him eventually. He must have known that.”

  “Can you help him?” Cara couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t be able to handle that. “Please, Lady, I beseech you—”

  “Now, now.” Hinthial turned to give her a serene smile. “No need for prayers. Yet. Step back, Sal. Let me see what I can do.”

  Cara watched as the goddess held her hands above Michael’s chest and closed her eyes. Seconds turned into minutes and the goddess’s calm expression slowly changed to consternation.

  Cara felt tears trail down her cheeks but bit her tongue to keep from sobbing out loud and distracting the goddess. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not like this.

  But it looked like Hinthial was having trouble. And when a goddess had trouble…

  “Cara, dear,” Hinthial finally said. “Take Michael’s hand.”

  A shiver ran across Cara’s skin at the undercurrent of power in the goddess’s voice, making it deeper, almost creepy, like something out of a horror film. Shaking off those thoughts, Cara hurried to the other side of the bed and grabbed Michael’s cold hand
in both of hers. Her tears flowed faster and she bit her tongue hard.

  “Tilly…” Sal’s voice held a warning but Hinthial shook her head.

  “It’s all right, Sal. I’ll be fine.”

  Cara heard Sal sigh then he clopped over to Cara’s side and placed his hand on her bare back. A sense of calm flowed over her, not enough to completely displace the grinding fear but enough to allow her to stop crying and to focus her arus on her hands clasped around Michael’s.

  Hinthial remained still as stone for several minutes, her hands locked in place over Michael’s chest. Cara couldn’t even tell if she was breathing but her hands… Her hands glowed with a pale blue light, almost like the flame of a blowtorch.

  The light waxed and waned as she watched, slowly expanding to encompass the goddess’s arms.

  And still Michael didn’t move.

  No. She refused to lose him a second time.

  Cara closed her eyes and concentrated on her arus, letting it warm and grow in her body. She built it up like she’d build a fire, adding fuel to it bit by bit until it bubbled in her blood like lava. Then she let it flow into her hands, into Michael’s hand, cementing the link between them.

  Please, love. Come back to me.

  “Cara,” Hinthial said, her tone sharp. “Continue to call to him. Make him listen.”

  I love you, Michael. I miss you. Aron misses you. Don’t leave us. We need you.

  Cara’s eyes flew open as Michael’s hand clenched around hers then released.

  “Cara,” the goddess commanded. “Continue. Do it.”

  Michael, please—

  Hinthial fell away from the bed with a cry, curling her hands against her body. Sal ran for the goddess as Michael began to thrash on the bed, though not with convulsions. He seemed to be struggling against something but he still didn’t seem to be breathing.

  Cara threw herself across his chest, trying to hold him down so he wouldn’t hurt himself. Which was ridiculous but—

  He gasped and his eyes flew open. He cried out, an agonizing sound, then stared sightlessly in front of him.