“Maybe, but it doesn’t feel like it.” She glowered as a new thought struck her. “And for the record, I don’t care who Rambo is, I ain’t doing him.”
He shouted in laughter and released himself. “Darling, I wouldn’t even dream of suggesting it.” Magic swirled up from his eyes, and his body shifted and shrank. The next moment, he was human again, reclining in the leaves in his jeans and black T-shirt. He sprang to his feet, lithe as a gymnast. “Change to human form. I need to give you that lesson in bite control.”
Faith lifted a brow. “As a human?”
“Well, I sure as hell don’t want you biting me with those teeth.”
“Good point.”
As she prepared to Change, she tried to ignore the little voice that murmured she’d be happy to bite him in any form at all.
Once she was human again, they squared off. “The bite is a spell,” Jim told her. “When you bite someone, your power is going to want to rise. Your job is to control it. It’s basically calling the magic in reverse.”
He moved around behind her and caught her in his arms, forearm pressing lightly against her neck. “Now, try to bite me.”
“In this position, the logical move is a throw,” Faith pointed out, grabbing his wrist as she got ready to flip him over her shoulder.
“Yeah, but we ain’t practicing throws. We’re practicing bites. Bite me.” Deliberately, he tightened his arm against her throat.
She sighed, opened her mouth, and closed her teeth lightly on his muscled forearm. He tasted of salt and clean male skin—and just a hint of magic.
“That’s not going to work, Faith.” His breath blew lightly against her ear. “The magic isn’t even going to try to rise if that’s all you’re doing. You’ve got to put a little more into it.”
Frustrated, she threw a look over her shoulder at him. “Put a little more what into it? You mean chomp down? Or what?”
“It’s not the force, it’s the emotion.” He tightened his hold on her hip, dragging her back.
Her eyes widened. If his erection had softened, it was back now. She could feel its thick bulk even through their jeans. “You’re having a little too much fun back there, hoss.”
“Not yet.” He rolled his hips until the shaft stroked the length of her backside. “But I’m giving it serious thought.”
She grinned. “Bad dog.”
“Every chance I get,” he breathed in her ear. The arm around her throat shifted until he could close long fingers around her breast. Slowly, teasingly, he squeezed.
Her nipple peaked against his palm. She licked her lips. “I thought we were practicing.”
“We are practicing.” He brushed his palm across the hard nubbin until it tightened even more.
“Practicing what?” His left hand left her hip to stroke down her belly. Two strong fingers slid between her thighs, brushing teasingly along the seam of her jeans. “Driving me nuts?”
He laughed against her ear, a low masculine rumble. “Yeah. How am I doing?”
She caught her breath. He’d found her clit. “Pretty good.”
“Good.” Ruthlessly, gently, he tormented nipple and sex through her clothing. Faith’s panties dampened as her body heated under his skillful touch.
His fingers traced up her zipper, caught the tab, drew it down. Traced up again, over the silk and lace, drawing a line of heat up her belly. She gasped. “Jim!”
“Mmm?” He sounded lazily amused as he ran his thumb along the elastic band of her underwear, slowly, as if considering dipping inside.
“Are we still practicing?” Her libido was definitely growling now.
“Practicing what?” His hand slid down her waistband. His palm felt deliciously warm. “Faith?” he prompted. “Practicing what?”
One finger stroked between her damp lips. “Practicing…Oh!…biting.”
His fingertip circled her clit, almost touching it, but not quite. “Yes.”
Pleasure spooled up her body in long, slick ribbons. “So we’re not having sex?”
“Nope.” The finger dipped into her slick core, then retreated again.
“Ummm. Feels like we’re having sex.”
He tugged her nipple through the fabric of her bra. “But we’re not.”
His cock felt like a steel rod against her ass. It was getting really difficult to concentrate. She licked her dry lips. “So what are we doing again?”
He raked her clit with a teasing thumbnail. “Pissing you off.” He jerked his hand from her shorts.
As she gasped in outrage, he presented his forearm to her teeth. “Bite.”
Frustrated—he was teasing her!—Faith sank her teeth into the tangy masculine flesh. She felt the magic boil up, surging out of the Mageverse. Belatedly, she remembered the idea was to block it and tried to force it back down again. It refused to obey, surging through her jaws and into the impressions left by her teeth.
She opened her jaws and studied the bite in dismay. “Shit. If you’d been human…”
“You’d have infected me.” Jim released the breast he’d been toying with, grabbed her T-shirt, and whipped it off over her head. Before she could squawk a protest, he attacked her bra. A moment later, he dropped it on top of the shirt.
“So you’re just going to torture me until I get it right?” she demanded.
“Basically.” He nuzzled her ear and gave it a taunting nibble.
“Forget that!” She squirmed, but despite her new powers, Jim was still bigger and stronger. He just laughed and cupped her, rolling the little peak between deliciously rough fingertips.
“Give me your arm,” she growled. “I’m going to bite the living hell out of you.”
“I don’t think so.” He thrust his other hand down her jeans and caught her belly to drag her back against his erection.
“Oh, yeah!” Faith glowered over her shoulder at him. “I’m going to bite you, and then I’m going to bang your furry little brains out. You’re going to be the dumbest werewolf in South Carolina.”
She grabbed his wrist in both hands, hauled it to her mouth, and bit down. The magic boiled up again, even faster than it had before. Desperately, Faith tried to block it and force it aside, but it came on too strong, fueled by the intensity of her emotions. She snarled as she felt it surge into her mouth.
“Sorry, kiddo.” There was definitely laughter in his voice. “Close, but not quite.”
He tried to pull away, but Faith had no intention of letting him. Dragging his arm forward, she shot her hip into his and let him roll.
He hit the ground with a startled woof. Faith pounced on him, jerked his head back, and bit down on the side of his neck. He yelped, more in surprise than pain, as the magic boiled up. Faith threw her will against it…
And it stopped. Seethed in her mouth for one long, trembling second.
Then seeped away.
She lifted her head and gave Jim a triumphant look. “I did it!”
“So you did.” He smiled darkly at her. A set of red indentations marked where her teeth had pressed into his skin.
“Now I get my reward.” Sitting up, she reached back and found the tab of his zipper. It slid down with a loud hiss. His erection pressed into the opening, covered with the thin white cotton of his briefs. Its bulk forced the zipper open still more.
Meeting his lazy, hungry stare, Faith reached down his briefs to find the thick satin head. A pearl of pre-cum greeted her fingers. She stroked over it, slicking the moisture across the warm shaft, which bucked in eager welcome. “Hello.”
He rolled his hips upward, lifting her body with his strength. “Hello yourself.”
She rose off him and began to slide her jeans and panties down her legs. Desire blazed up in his pale eyes as he watched her pull off every stitch.
Faith kicked her clothes away and showed her teeth. “Strip.”
He showed his own. “The lady’s wish is my command.” Rolling to his feet, Jim dragged his shirt over his head. As he threw it aside, muscles ro
lled temptingly up and down his broad chest. The corner of his mouth kicked up in a rakish half-smile as he reached for the waistband of his jeans.
“Take it off!” She hummed a teasing bump and grind, crossing her bare legs as she leaned back on her elbows. A cool breeze blew across her nipples, teasing them to harder peaks.
He spun around like a stripper and rocked his hips teasingly. The movement made the muscle ripple in his tight backside.
Faith watched him work his snug jeans down those long, brawny legs. After kicking off his shoes, he stepped out of his pants with an artistic twitch of lean hips.
She grinned in pure admiration. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a truly outstanding ass?”
Jim pivoted smoothly to face her, revealing the long, arrogant jut of his cock. Hooding his eyes, he stroked the shaft teasingly. “Somebody may have said something about it.”
She laughed. “You’re a bad, bad boy, Jim London.” She watched as he swaggered over to stand astride her bare feet. “You need to be spanked.”
He lifted both arms and raked his big hands through his hair. The movement made his chest look the width of a wall. “Think you’re up to it?”
Quick as a cat, she hooked the back of one of his ankles with her foot and pulled, tumbling him backward.
With a startled yelp, Jim hit the ground on his muscular backside. Faith pounced, straddling his thighs.
He braced on his elbows and lifted a dark brow, watching her prowl her way up his thighs. “Bit violent, aren’t you?”
“Us werewolves are like that.” Sliding her hands up his sleek thighs, she framed his cock between her hands and contemplated it, head cocked. “Merciless.”
“Should I be worried?”
Faith lowered her head and blew a breath along the length of the smooth shaft. “Oh, yeah. Are you?”
He rolled his hips upward, making his cock bob. “Shaking.”
“You should be.” She caught the shaft in one hand and angled it upward. “Us merciless werewolves like to eat our prey.”
“Oh, God, I hope so.” His heartfelt moan made her laugh.
Eyeing him, she put out her tongue and gave his cock a long, slow lick.
He let his head drop back and groaned.
Enjoying his reaction, she opened her mouth and took the shaft in, then suckled it teasingly. Finally, she let it escape with a soft pop. “Still scared?”
“Terrified.”
She grinned. “Good.”
Jim shivered in agonized delight as Faith proceeded to give him the blow job of his life. Her mouth felt wet and slick and impossibly delicious as she played slow, licking homage to his shaft, nibbling up and down its aching length. He could feel the orgasm gathering in his balls like a hot fist slowly tightening.
Just as he started to tell her to slow down before he came, she stopped. Dazed, he looked down his belly at her foxy face as she contemplated his hard-on. Several seconds ticked past, but she did nothing, just staring at his cock as if fascinated.
“Uh, Faith?”
“Ummm?”
“Going to do something with that?”
“Actually, I just thought I’d drive you crazy for a while.” She looked up, lids dipping over green eyes. “That teasing thing works both ways.”
He stared at her as his infuriated libido howled in outrage. “Ah, no.”
“Ah, yes.” She swirled her tongue over the tight, smooth head and smiled tauntingly.
“You do realize I’m bigger than you, right?”
“You do realize I’ve got your dick in my mouth?”
He watched her give him another tiny, teasing lick. It was all he could do not to beg. “You’re the one that needs the spanking.”
A haughty red brow lifted. “You and what army?”
“I don’t need an army. I’m an Alpha Dire Wolf. I am an army.” He gave her his best mock-ferocious glare.
“I’m aquiver.” Another tiny lick.
“I’m really going to enjoy giving you that spanking.”
She closed her teeth over the head of his cock, not quite biting.
“Or not.”
“Smart man.” Another lick.
“How long do you think I’m going to let you get away with that?”
“Dunno.” Lick. “I thought I’d find out.”
Jim managed to survive another set of tortuous licks before his control broke. Then, growling, he sat up, grabbed both her arms and flipped her off him and onto her belly. Before she could even squeak, he rolled between her thighs, pulled her taut little backside up, and drove his cock into her sex.
Her yelp of startled pleasure was gratifying. “Apparently—ah!—not long.”
“Nope,” he agreed, driving to his full length. “Not long at all.”
With a feline purr of pleasure, she braced her legs apart as he started shafting her, slipping in and out in long, fierce digs. With every thrust, his hips slapped against her tight little backside. He shuttered his eyelids in pleasure and fought not to come.
Jesus, he felt good in this position. His cock seemed to reach all the way to her bellybutton, teasing her slick walls every time he drove in. Faith groaned and lifted her ass, thrusting back at him so hard her breasts danced.
God, she’d loved this. Loved teasing him like this until he lost control and jumped her. After all the shit Ron had put her through, it felt good having the upper hand for once.
Though, braced on her hands and knees while he rode her like a madman, she wasn’t completely sure who had what. Then again, she wasn’t sure she cared either.
Pleasure coiled and tightened in her belly, straining to break free. Another hard, delicious lunge, so deep and strong she felt his balls tap between her thighs. And then another, even harder, and a low growl from behind her, deliciously wild and animal. And another, and…
She came with a long yowl of pleasure as the fire closed over her head. Behind her, he echoed the cry, his sounding distinctly triumphant.
They collapsed in the leaves in a sated pile, to watch the sun cut through the trees overhead. Two squirrels rattled through the branches, pursuing each other up and down the trunk like a couple of kids playing tag.
“You know,” Jim said. “This is really nice. I could stay like this.”
“Me too.” She paused. “Except for the killer vampire and the rogue werewolf we’ve got to slay.”
“Yeah,” Jim said. “Except for them.”
TWELVE
Keith Reynolds drove down a winding gravel road toward Celestine’s reconstructed plantation house. Pines, oaks, and sweet gum trees crowded close to the narrow road, their gnarled limbs threatening in the moonlight. With every foot he drove, the knot in his gut tightened with a combination of dread and sick excitement.
Celestine was going to be pissed that they hadn’t found Weston yet, and she was going to take it out on him. Reynolds wasn’t sure which galled him more—that he feared her so much, or that he found her vicious attentions so seductive.
Men didn’t crawl to a woman. Especially not a man who could turn into a seven-foot monster and disembowel with a swipe of his claws.
Yet nothing had ever aroused him like crawling to Celestine. The power that swirled around her fascinated him. Even the scent of rot that surrounded her when she worked her spells attracted him as much as it repelled.
Reynolds supposed it was the danger she represented that drew him. He’d always been an adrenalin junkie; it was why he’d become a cop. Every time she lashed him to that pillar in her ballroom, he never knew whether this would be the time she killed him—or he killed her. It could go either way.
He wondered sometimes if she knew how many times he’d considered ripping out her sadistic, lying heart.
Tonight might be the night she finally drove him to do it.
Every cop on the Clarkston police department had spent the day looking for Weston. But though they’d staked out her house and combed the town, she was nowhere to be found. Ayers seriously considere
d a press conference accusing her of police misconduct. Unfortunately, they’d need the cooperation of the Solicitor’s Office for something like that, and that office’s head prosecutor was female. Which meant Celestine’s usual sex-based spells wouldn’t work. Too, going public meant media attention and questions from the State Law Enforcement Division, which investigated police misconduct. In the end, Ayers had reluctantly discarded the idea.
None of this was going to please Celestine, who would no doubt take her rage out on Reynolds.
Ahead of his car, the woods suddenly came to an end at a rolling expanse of lawn. The crunch of gravel turned to the smooth hiss of blacktop under the Crown Vic’s wheels, as Reynolds drove up the circular drive to reach the plantation house.
It shown pale in the moonlight, three stories tall, with towering Doric columns and a porch wide enough to host a cotilion. He almost expected Scarlett O’Hara to sweep out through the double doors, surrounded by adoring beaus and miles of floral skirts.
It was all far different from the snake-infested wreck he’d remembered from boyhood. Five years ago, some teenaged arsonist had reduced the plantation house to a couple of listing brick chimneys and half-standing, smoke-blackened walls.
Until Reynolds had mentioned it to Celestine. The vampire had used the magic she’d gained from killing Tony Shay to recreate it as a shimmering Southern palace. It was probably far finer than it had ever been in real life, but at times Reynolds wished she’d left it to rot decently. Somehow that would have been preferable to turning it into a perverted version of itself.
He parked the Crown Vic at the foot of the sweeping stairs. To his shame, his hand trembled when he shut off the engine—whether from fear or anticipation, he didn’t know.
He really should kill her, but he knew he wouldn’t.
Grim-faced, he strode up the brick stairway to the arched double doors. Without bothering to knock, he pulled them open and was greeted by the unmistakable sounds of combat. Swords clashed, as voices screamed in pain over the boom and crackle of magic. Cold fear gripped him.
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