Fury of Seduction

by Coreene Callahan

  God forgive her. Because she had a feeling Mac never would.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tania was crying. Begging. And Mac didn’t know why.

  Which cranked his screw the wrong way. Someone was hurting her. And he was going to tear their fucking limbs off. One by one. Without mercy or conscience. Until they lay in a bloody heap at his feet.

  No one touched his female. No one but him.

  Still half-asleep, aggression sparked through him. He needed to wake the hell up. Right now. Lethal intent pumping through his veins, he clawed at the mind-fog, fighting to break free. She sobbed again, her breath hitching on his name. Mac surfaced hard, rocketing into wake-up mode with gut-wrenching velocity. Primal instinct ignited. His dragon responded, coming alive with a silent snarl. Magic exploded, fusing muscle over bone, rushing down his spine as he tapped into the connection they shared.

  Tania’s bioenergy flared, lighting him up from the inside out. Mac mined it, searching for the threat. He didn’t find one. No pain. No distress. Nothing but a powerful wave of...

  White-hot need.

  Mac’s brows collided. What the hell? Was he reading that right?

  He accessed the threat again. A load of sexual energy sucker punched him. Sucking wind, confusion got shoved aside. Awareness flickered, flipping Mac’s brain to the ON position. As all systems went from fucked up to functional, he opened his eyes and lost his next breath. Holy shit. He was deep in the zone, and even deeper between Tania’s thighs, holding her down, making her moan and...

  Yeah. Cry beneath him.

  Dark lashes pressed to her cheeks, legs gripping his hips, she arched, tipping her head back on the pillows. More tears rolled from the corners of her eyes.

  Breathing hard, he watched the droplets disappear into her hairline, struggling to grasp what his body already knew. He was on autopilot, still fully clothed, working her so hard she undulated beneath him while he pushed her toward orgasm. Surprise made him flinch. The desire to please her made him move. Gauging her need, he upped the pace, the last of the mind-fog vanishing. Like pieces of a puzzle, the facts clicked into place. Him. Her. In bed together. A shitload of I-want-you and...

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  He wasn’t dreaming. Not this time. Which meant he was doing it...again! Making love to her while practically comatose.

  He growled.

  She sobbed. “Oh God, I’m...s-sorry, but I...oh yes, please. I need it.”

  Motherfuck. Forget the apology. He needed it too. Wanted to see her come. To feel the explosion. To reap the benefits as she came apart in his arms. His satisfaction didn’t matter. Not now. Maybe not ever again. All that mattered was her. That he pleased her while watching it happen.

  Poised above her, he adjusted their fit and, circling his hips, released her wrists. Bringing her arms down from above her head, she latched onto his shoulders and rode the wave: each rhythmic roll of thrust and retreat. One hand beneath her bottom, he cupped her cheek and turned her face toward him. As he thumbed another tear away, Mac dipped his head. He couldn’t wait a second longer. He needed to be inside her, any way he could. Licking deep, he took her mouth without mercy. He groaned as she responded, opening wide, inviting him in, kissing him back with a ferocity that matched his own.

  Umm, God. She tasted so good...like decadence and delight. A heavenly combination that surpassed sinful, throwing him into the fiery pit of desire. The burn nourished him, and memory sparked. Flashes of their first time together exploded across his mind: of her beneath him, of him deep inside her, the loft, his first shift, and her wicked, welcoming heat.

  Man, he wished he could remember more of it.

  Not that it mattered now. She was in his arms, and he was wide-awake, all synapses firing. Hyperalert and ready to please her, he registered her every response. And oh baby, she moved like a dream. Drove him wild with the flex and release of her hips against his. Reveled in the arch of her spine and taut curves of her breasts. Loved each soft gasp, all the sexy sounds she made, he listened to her beg him for more.

  With a growl, Mac gave it to her. No holding back. He craved the heart of her, the heat of her skin against his, the exquisite pleasure of being deep inside her. Wanted to experience it all...again. Recall everything as Tania came apart beneath him.

  But not like this. Not without making sure first. He didn’t want either of them incoherent this time around. He needed to know she was 100 percent on board before he took her hard and loved her long.

  A death grip on the urge to strip her bare, he backed off, lifting his hips from between her thighs. “Tania, honey...look—”

  “Oh no...no, no.” Her eyes closed, she twisted beneath him, raising her hips and...

  Mother of God. She stroked him good and hard, rubbing against his erection. Heat lightning zapped him, screwing with his resolve, shoving him toward blind lust instead of controlled lovemaking. With a curse, he clamped down on his reaction and her. Gripping her hip with one hand, he held her down, pressing her into the mattress, lifting himself away to keep his cool. But shit, it almost killed him. He wanted her so badly his body didn’t care how it happened...just as long as he ended up buried to the hilt inside her.

  Fighting the lockdown, she gasped, “Mac, don’t...please. I’m close. So close.”

  “I know, love.” He retreated a little more. She snarled at him and tugged at his shoulders, trying to pull him back. When he didn’t move, she nipped the underside of his chin. He twitched and clenched his teeth. “I’ll give you what you need—”

  “Now!”

  “In a minute. I promise, but first...” He kissed her softly, keeping each caress light, hoping to soothe her while he slowed himself down. It would be so easy to take her this way. Forget right, embrace wrong, and love her without thought to the consequences. While need rode roughshod over reason. But he refused to do that to her. Not again. The first blind loving had been bad enough so...yeah. This time would be different: slow, measured, all she deserved, not the incoherent scramble she didn’t. “Tania...look at me.”

  She shook her head, the movement sharp with denial.

  “You wanna come?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then look at me.”

  Short nails biting into his biceps, she shifted beneath him and grumbled, “Mean. You’re just plain mean...” Breathing hard, she shivered before her eyelashes lifted. Dark brown, burgundy-flecked eyes met his. She blinked, and Mac felt her mind sharpen as she gazed up at him. “And, ah, wide-awake now.”

  Watching her closely, he propped himself up on one elbow. “Is that a problem for you?”

  “Are you going to stop now?” Color stole into her cheeks.

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Whether or not you want me to.”

  Flat on her back beneath him, one of his thighs pressed between hers, she hesitated. Mac held his breath. Shit. What was he doing? He should be inciting her to make love with him, not giving her an out. But now that he had? He couldn’t deny it was the right thing to do.

  Chewing on her bottom lip, she glanced away. “Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Taking advantage,” she whispered, breaking his heart with her apology. God, she was adorable. And way too honest for her own good. Thank fuck. It made reading her a whole lot easier. Tania would never leave him guessing. Clobbering him with what she thought and felt along with the truth was more her style. “I didn’t realize you were asleep when you started, ah, touching me. But by the time I figured that out I was...well, it was too late. I’m not usually so...umm...”

  She trailed off, embarrassment in her tone.

  Mac’s lips twitched. Taking advantage. Jesus. He hoped she took advantage of him every damned day. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing her a little. “Not usually what? So hot to trot?”

  “Shut up.” She scowled at him. “It’s not my fault. It’s yours or my stupid subconscious...whatever. I’ve been having these dreams. So
when I woke up and you were...well, I just...I don’t know...went with it.”

  Her admission popped his brows skyward. Naughty dreams. About him. Mac opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn’t have a clue what to say, other than “thank you, baby Jesus.” ’Cause, holy shit, what a compliment. Not to mention a wicked turn-on. Especially since he dreamed about her too. All the time. So much he couldn’t get her out of his head. Awake. Asleep. It didn’t matter. She was always there, taunting him with her sweetness. And now? She lay spread beneath him, aroused, relaxed, already halfway home. All she needed was a little encouragement to take him the rest of the distance.

  Fucking A. He was so on board with that. Couldn’t wait to feel her come around him.

  Holding her gaze, Mac shifted his hips and pressed in. As he settled deep between her thighs, her eyelashes flickered. Oh yeah. She was still really sensitive, needy from being so close to orgasm without going over.

  He rolled against her, keeping the action light. “You wanna go with it again?”

  “Depends on the conditions.”

  “Skin to skin this time. Me deep inside you.”

  “Demanding, aren’t you?” She shifted beneath him, the move one of welcome.

  “Honey, you have no idea,” he said, more growl than actual words. “So what’s it gonna be? If I leave you, it’s gotta be now, Tania. I won’t be able to pull back later.”

  “Here’s the deal.” Dark eyes serious yet still full of need, she cupped the nape of his neck. The caress turned desire incendiary. Mac’s heart jumped like a jackrabbit, pounding hard as he waited for her to lay out the conditions. She took her time, fingers playing in his hair, cranking him tight, grazing him with her short nails. Unable to stop himself, he arched into her next stroke, pressing deeper between her thighs. With a hum, she kissed the corner of his mouth, then nipped him gently and whispered, “You make me come in the next fifteen seconds? You can do anything you want to me after.”

  Mac’s breath caught. Anything. God, that was a big word. “Done.”

  Her lips curved. “Thought so.”

  Enthralled by her, he cupped her face and traced her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. Brushing her hair back, he drew soft circles on her temple, memorizing every detail: the thickness of her eyelashes, the softness of her skin, the lush pink of her lips, the gentle arch of her eyebrows. Man, she was beautiful, but more than just skin-deep. Hers was a beauty that traveled inward, touching every part of her, and he responded to that truth. It made him want her more, to touch all that goodness, possess her in every way...physically, emotionally, body, mind, heart, and soul. And as he reveled in the desire in her eyes, wasting precious seconds, he couldn’t deny what he wanted.

  Her. Forever.

  So screw the time factor.

  He yearned to spend hours blissing her out. Wanted to explore every inch of her and—

  “Ticktock,” she said, devilry in her eyes.

  Mac huffed. “You asked for it.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Stretching her arms above her head, she settled in, waiting for him to start. Mac shook his head, even as his mouth curved. Remarkable. She was the most remarkable woman he’d ever met, and she blew him away. With the heat and want. With the vulnerability she showed and her willingness. But most of all? With her trust. Even after he’d scared her half to death. Even after seeing him in dragon form. Even after all the shit that had gone down with the Razorbacks last night. She placed herself in his hands, trusting him not to hurt her.

  Mac’s throat went tight. Jesus, she turned him inside out. Made him ache with the compulsion to please her. To keep her close and protect her always. “Tania, mo chroí. You are a gift.”

  Her breath caught. Whispering his name, she tipped her chin up and offered him her mouth. He took it without hesitation, kissed her deep, delivering his taste, getting a contact high from hers. And as he tangled their tongues and listened to her moan, he shifted right and slipped his hand beneath the waistband of her sweats. She wanted to come. He would make her.

  Guaranteed. And more than once if he got his way.

  Spreading his fingers wide, he caressed her belly, then pressed down, filling the space between her hip bones. Her hands twisted in the sheets above her head. She raised her hips, demanding more. He gave it to her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts, listening to her moan. He purred in answer and sucked on her bottom lip, knowing exactly what she needed. He could hear the frantic beat of her heart. Was connected to the fever in her blood and the scattered thoughts tumbling through her mind.

  More. Harder. Faster. Right now.

  Mac growled. Sir, yes, sir. Her wish was his command.

  Clamping down on his own need, he controlled the pace...and her. Making her pant and beg. Using every ounce of his skill to drive her wild, closer to the edge and orgasm. And yet he held back a little, wanting Tania so high she fell long and hard, plunging into ferocious pleasure. It would be better for her that way. More intense. More explosive. Bone-melting good if he forced her to ride the razor’s edge.

  With a practiced touch, he caressed her in light passes, played with teasing strokes, dipping in her belly button until she sobbed. Her breath rasping in her throat, she released her death grip on the sheets. Grabbing fistfuls of his hair, she tilted her hips, begging for his possession. He grazed her curls between her thighs and—

  Holy God. She was hot. So incredibly wet. Such a snug fit inside she took his breath away. His balls fisted up tight, making the tip of his erection throb. Jesus, he wanted inside, but...

  Not yet. Not until he stripped her down.

  He always kept his word. He’d said skin to skin, and he meant it. He’d have her naked—exposed, 100 percent bare beneath him—before he rode her hard. But that wouldn’t happen until he kept his end of the bargain.

  And speaking of which?

  Night vision sparking, Mac glanced at his watch. Time was of the essence. He only had a few seconds left to make her explode. No way would he miss that deadline.

  Anything, after all, lay like a promise on the other side of her pleasure.

  The streets were awash in lamp glow as Nian flew over Old Town, wings extended in full glide, his ear attuned to the chatter below. Prague at midnight. Party central...the magic hour when all kinds—both human and Dragonkind—came out to play. Too bad he wouldn’t get the chance to join them. At least not for a while.

  Maybe not at all tonight if Rodin stayed true to form.

  Gifted with a bird’s-eye view, Nian watched a group of drunken humans stumble out of a club and spill into the narrow, cobble-paved avenue. He snorted, fine golden mist rising from his nostrils, and shook his head. Never a dull moment. Never a quiet one, either. Perhaps, though, that was a blessing tonight. He needed the distraction. Time enough to settle his nerves, and watching the imbeciles stagger around? Amusing, to say the least, which...

  Yes. Kept his mind busy. An absolute blessing, considering where he was headed.

  Angling his wings, he flew east, following the main drag out of the city. More laughter rose in mirth-filled snatches, rising between pale building facades to meet stormy November skies. As the cold air flowed, rushing over his scales, Nian danced with the north wind. The night current whirled into an updraft, lifting his bulk. With a growl, he rotated into a slow flip, music drifting up to meet him. Different genres mixed, the big bass of the nightclubs intertwining with the soothing tones of more sophisticated establishments.

  Nice. A real collection of sounds. Some soft with smooth undertones. Others savage, a jarring conflagration of vicious guitars, brutal beats, and violent lyrics.

  Fine by him. The lethal mix suited his mood, preparing him for the meeting to come. Thank Christ. It wouldn’t do to show weakness in front of Rodin and his crowd. He needed to be picture-perfect when he walked into the Archguard’s private party. Bang on in the political sphere. Calm. Cool. And collected. Otherwise he wouldn’t make it out alive.

  The u
rge to bank hard and fly home pricked through him. Nian ignored the warning. Self-preservation was all fine and good, but it wouldn’t get him what he wanted. Rodin dead, nothing but a messy pile of dragon ash blown away on a brisk wind. But it was far too soon for that. The groundwork must be laid first. Which meant strengthening his position within the high council before he knocked off the top dragon.

  The sooner Rodin kicked the bucket, the better for him.

  Why? The sick bastard was up to no good. Again.

  The summons to his pavilion proved it. The arrival of the gold-leafed invitation (and the fact Nian had never been included on the guest list before) an hour ago confirmed his suspicions. The who’s who of Dragonkind—the much-lauded elite, the wealthiest, most powerful of their kind—would be in attendance tonight. Doing what? Backroom deals, no doubt, but mostly? Rubbing elbows while indulging in Rodin’s specialty...

  Debauchery of the highest form.

  Normally Nian didn’t mind. He enjoyed getting down and dirty as much as the next male. But not now. And certainly not at Rodin’s. The leader of the high council had a reputation, one no one ever talked about. Not if they wished to be invited back, never mind stay alive. Rumors, however, abounded. Part myth? All truth? Nian couldn’t be certain, but anything was possible.

  Especially with the Archguard involved.

  Red-tiled roofs flashing beneath him, Nian increased his wing speed, flying fast toward the Vltava River. Bitter wind whistled, rattling over his scales, hiding the moon behind heavy cloud cover. Errant snowflakes frolicking in his wake, he crisscrossed a cemetery, tombstones nothing but pale slices in the darkness, then circled into a holding pattern over the Grecian pavilion below. He scanned the manicured gardens, searching the frozen landscape for the landing pad. The second he found it, Mozart’s Requiem started up, spilling out of the house to drift between ancient trees, the skeletal branches doing little to muffle the melody.

  Nian growled. Terrific. Trust Rodin to play a masterpiece at an orgy. All right. So maybe that was overstating it a bit. He didn’t know for sure, after all, what Rodin and his cohorts engaged in down there, but...