Outfoxing Mysta

by Selena Illyria

  It wasn’t fair. He made even the ridiculous dance look sexy and flirty and downright filthy with every move of his hips, the ripple of muscle under the skin, and the strength and conviction of each step. Once he was done she sat there stunned, her body heated. Her nipples had hardened, and her clit pulsed. Her clothing constricted her and irritated her skin. Her desire beat under her skin, too large to contain, seeping from her pores. She shifted in her seat.

  “Mal?” Viktor beckoned to Malcolm.

  “Jesus, really? Okay.” Malcolm rose and did a halfhearted performance. “Happy now?”

  All she could do was nod. Her gaze remained fixed on Viktor’s ink and the way it writhed against golden skin. Viktor hadn’t put back on his shirt again, much to her annoyance. He didn’t look the least bit apologetic or discomfited. Goose bumps rose on his arms, and his nipples were tight buds.

  “Next round.” Malcolm grabbed the dice and shook them. He rolled out a five. Next was Viktor with a nine and Mysta with a twelve.

  “Heh, lay it on me.” Malcolm gave Mysta a pointed look.

  She accepted the challenge.

  “Are you someone’s familiar? Did someone actually let you off the leash for a night?” There. She’d said it.

  “Ha! No witch or wizard to tie me down to…anymore. Anything else you want to know?” He bit out each last syllable of the challenge.

  Viktor held up a hand. “Mal, calm down.”

  Malcolm shrugged. His hand trembled as he brought the bottle to his lips, but he was able to take a pull without spilling a drop.

  “Hhmmm, hellhound and a familiar to boot. I’ve read and seen what happens to familiars who aren’t bonded. No one should have that fate. Are you looking to be bonded?” She turned over the possibilities. Bridget had connections, and there were lots of witches and wizards who didn’t have familiars, although they might not want a familiar who used black magic. She wasn’t sure.

  Malcolm lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Sure, if you want.” He placed his drink back down on the table.

  She didn’t miss the hope that flared to life in his eyes. One of the reasons the relationship between familiar and witch and wizard was so crucial was because they balanced each other out. No wonder he was acting the way he was.

  “Hey, give me your hand,” she ordered.

  “What?” Malcolm’s dark brow winged up, and suspicion lit up his face.

  “Just give it to me.” She normally didn’t enjoy being touched by someone if she barely knew him or if she didn’t know where he’d been, but for this moment if she could help, she would.

  He extended his hand. She moved forward in her chair and accepted his extended hand. A ribbon of warm liquid flowed from the center of her chest, down her arm, and into him. His back bowed, and his eyes squeezed shut. He quaked but didn’t let go of her hand.

  His magic shot through her, filling her body with his power. She tasted fire and earth, brimstone and smoke. Heat flooded her body, saturating her head to toe with a fever. Even her eyelids heated up. She grabbed on to the arm of her chair and sucked in air as pressure welled up inside of her. She poured magic into him until she felt he’d had enough, then eased the exchange, pulling back her energy. The flow stopped.

  Malcolm sagged onto the chair and groaned. “Fuck, I think I need new pants.”

  Mysta swallowed and looked away, dropping his hand and scooting back into her chair. Malcolm’s power sparked and billowed around her, slow to dissipate. She sensed everything around them, including the hope, desire, and confusion from Viktor. Her mental shields rose to block off the information, but they were sluggish.

  “What was that?” Awe and annoyance filled Viktor’s tone.

  “Sometimes familiars can help each other with their power dump by infusing them with a bit of their own magic. There’s an echo but not much.” She chose her next words with care. She didn’t want to give too much information away. “A power dump is a surge of unfiltered magic that either hasn’t been used or is in excess and has nowhere to go. I gave him a bit of my control to help the process along.” She met Viktor’s eyes. “But he’ll need to either take part in a ritual that will allow him to burn off the surplus or have sex, which will exhaust him enough to give him a respite.”

  “Interesting.” Viktor didn’t look pacified, but he didn’t look jealous either. “So, should we continue or do you need some time?” He looked over at Malcolm.

  “I’m good. Mysta?” Malcolm’s words had a slight slurred edge to them, but he didn’t look drunk.

  Mysta took a sip of wine. Her hands gripped the glass without trembling, and when she placed it on the table she didn’t spill a drop. Her gaze focused on Viktor. “I’m fine.”

  Viktor studied them both, his expression uncertain. Malcolm remained slumped in his seat, but he had a sleepy grin on his face. His energy seemed calmer, and his features were relaxed.

  Reassured by Malcolm’s appearance, Mysta decided to continue the game. “Okay, Malcolm, what is your dare to us?”

  “Easy.” Malcolm winked at Viktor. “To kiss.”

  “Bastard,” Mysta hissed. Viktor’s emotions still seeped around her. Her mental shields weren’t even halfway up to block them. Malcolm’s magic still burned through her body, lighting small fires throughout her, amping up her desire. Her skin prickled. And she still tasted smoke on her tongue. Who knew what would happen?

  “I can live with it.” Viktor moved so fast out of his chair she didn’t have enough time to react. He crouched down in front of her, cupped her face in his hands, and gazed into her eyes. “No running, honey.”

  His humid breath fanned her face. She could smell the beer he’d had along with his cologne up close and personal. The heat of his body pounded against her. It seeped past her clothing to soak deep into her, merging with her until she was sure they were becoming one with only his hands on her. She couldn’t move, breathe, think, nothing. He had hypnotized her. Pale green eyes, tan skin, and pale gold hair filled her vision.

  The kiss was soft, gentle, unhurried. All thought scattered as warmth suffused her face and seeped down all the way to her toes. The world faded away and there was only him.

  The tip of his tongue played along the seam of her mouth. He slid his lips against hers in a slow glide. She opened her lips for him. His tongue dipped in, a tentative exploration. When she didn’t resist, he pressed farther, teasing her tongue and tickling the roof of her mouth. She giggled, and he groaned but didn’t break contact. His arousal seeped into her, feeding her desire. All confusion and anger had faded away from him.

  Mysta lifted her hands and placed them over his. She returned his attentions, nibbling his lips, soothing the hurt with quick flicks, taking her cues from him. Need and hunger rose to the surface. She needed to taste him, touch him, feel him against her, in her. Her hands drifted down his neck and over his shoulders. She traced the contours of his chest. When she brushed his nipples, he moaned. She took it as encouragement and circled the peaks with her fingertips, teasing the nubs in slow circles.

  She continued to torment his nipples with light pinches and rolls. When he whimpered she moved her hands down to study the planes, dips, and rises of his abdomen. She lowered her hands, pausing to dip into his belly button. She continued onward to his groin, cupped his ridge and gave it a squeeze.

  He pulled back. “Slow down,” he murmured.

  She whimpered at the loss of contact and moved forward, trying to get closer. He held her back gently, peppering her face with light brushes of his lips, then moved away until there was a foot of distance between them. “No, no. Stay where you are, honey. I need a moment.”

  She gazed at him feeling shy and uncertain.

  “You okay, honey?” A hint of suede roughened his soft, smooth voice.

  She sighed and rested her hands on his thighs. “Yeah, Fox, I’m fine.”

  “Good. I’m going go back to my seat.” He straightened up to his full height.

  “No, stay.” The words came o
ut without hesitation.

  But Viktor pulled away and returned to his seat as though he hadn’t heard her.

  “Don’t mind me, I’m just a voyeur.” Malcolm chuckled, reminding her they had an audience. A shit-eating grin lit up his face. “Damn, I should lose more often.”

  Mysta lifted her hand and touched her lips. The flesh was feverish and tingled. She could taste the remnants of the Guinness and mint he’d had with just a hint of brimstone. Damn it. Viktor’s body heat continued to cling to her like a spider’s web.

  Anger and confusion swirled in her gut. No, he wouldn’t ensnare her again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Viktor’s body had turned into a furnace on full blast. He settled down in the armchair but couldn’t sit still. He moved around in the chair. When he settled down his leg jiggled up and down. Every inch of his skin crawled and prickled with heat. If he wasn’t careful he’d do a full strip right there.

  He shut his eyes and called on the fox to lend him some of its calm and focus. The urge to pace or pull down his zipper and jerk off subsided to a dull buzz in his blood. More composed now, he picked up his beer bottle and tipped it toward Malcolm who returned the gesture.

  “Next round.” Mysta grabbed the dice before either of them could and took her turn.

  He chuckled. Determination glittered in her dark brown eyes, and her jaw clenched. A fire kindled in his gut. If she thought she’d win her way out of giving him the information through sheer resolve she was dead wrong.

  She rolled the dice around in her hand, paused, took a sip of her wine, paused again. Drawing each action out. Finally, just as Viktor was about to order her to hurry up, she threw the dice. A four.

  Viktor picked up the dice and rolled. Seven. Malcolm took his turn and ended up with a fifteen.

  Viktor grinned at Mysta. “Well, now, you’re at my mercy.”

  She snorted. “Just ask the damn question.”

  Viktor continued to hold back.

  She took a sip of her wine and returned the glass on the table, all while staring at him.

  Malcolm settled deeper into his chair, watching them. “Come on. I didn’t take this long when I went.”

  He continued to let the unasked swirl in the air. Heavy raindrops thudded on the skylight overhead, heralding the arrival of the storm.

  “Vik—”

  “Was it your parents who drove you away or me?”

  “That’s what you think happened? You think I would just let my parents push me away from you?” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you and I had been fighting about my obligations and my family but come on? You’d think it would push me to the point where I’d leave because of them?”

  Viktor shrugged. “What was I supposed to think?”

  “I left because if I didn’t go I wouldn’t be able to.” Her features were a mask.

  “And?” Viktor pressed.

  Her jaw worked back and forth, and her eyes flashed. Anger and frustration filled her face.

  For the first time the fox surged forward, tired of its mate’s games. “My fox believes you’re scared, not of me, but of the emotions I elicited, of the feelings I gave you. I made you choose between duty, honor, and love. Is it right?”

  “You asked your question, now roll.” She snapped at him.

  “I haven’t issued a dare yet,” Malcolm interjected. Energy crackled from him. “And I dare you”—he pointed at Mysta—“to kiss Vik, and mean it.”

  “What game are you playing?” Mysta demanded.

  “Not a game.” Malcolm shook his head. “If you truly don’t love him kiss him and show us.”

  “I already kissed him.”

  “So what harm could another one do, hmm?” His lips quirked into a smile. “Maybe you need a little persuasion. Power works both ways.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she growled.

  “What are you afraid of?” Viktor had to ask. “Afraid old feelings will resurface?”

  “No, but as I’ve said I already kissed you.” She pressed her lips together.

  “I’ve never known you to be chicken.” He hoped he hadn’t pushed her too far.

  “Fine.” She rose from her chair and pressed her lips against his.

  Intense arousal, the likes of which he’d never experienced, poured into him. His cock pressed against the denim of his jeans. His heart raced, and his skin tingled. An orgasm was building. The pressure increased with each millisecond, but he didn’t come. All his other senses sharpened. He could taste the spice of her desire and fiery tang of Malcolm’s need, smell the beat of her and Malcolm’s hearts, heard her soft gasps and Mal’s groans when Viktor’s passion enveloped them both, feel the need pulsating in the atmosphere around them—his, Malcolm’s, and hers—and could see with his mind’s eye all of their yearnings tied together by threads of mutual want.

  His eyes fluttered open. Driven by the need, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. She stiffened, but by degrees she relaxed in his hold. This was not the gentle touch of before. It was a craving, driving necessity and blinding wish. Their teeth clashed, their lips ached. Their tongues dueled for dominance. But it wasn’t enough. He needed full contact.

  She pulled back, eyes wide, staring at him in awe. “After all this time?” Mysta shook her head, hesitation written on her face.

  Her magic slithered up his arm. He glanced down, expecting to see a snake moving over his skin. Nothing.

  A whimper of confusion and need came from her. “Viktor? What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know, but I need to kiss you again.” And so much more.

  He wrapped his arms around her pulling her down onto the floor.

  Her pupils were blown wide. Her skin felt feverish to the touch. He sensed her breathing and heartbeat quicken. “Goddess, what is this? This is like Lunar Lust on crack. I’m on fire and yet, I’m scared. What the fuck is going on?”

  Just the smell increased his desire tenfold. “Lunar Lust, yours, sugar.” Viktor brushed his fingers over her cheek.

  “Oh goddess.” She pressed herself against him.

  His erection bumped against her hip, and arousal burst in his groin. He couldn’t stop touching her face, neck, chest, all over until finally he paused at her waist. He ground his erection against her. Unable to resist, he kissed her again. His grunts and moans disappeared in her mouth. The kiss increased the fever spiking through his veins.

  She rocked against him. Her hands moved over his back, his hips, his sides. Her shirt scratched his bare skin. Her nails dug into his flesh setting off a burst of pain. The perfume of her musk grew denser. She shoved her fingers through his hair, grabbing handfuls and gripping his head. Breaking the kiss, she blazed a path over his face and along his jaw with her mouth.

  He pulled her on top of him. All air left his lungs as her weight settled on him.

  She straddled his hips. Her hands ghosted over his chest and shoulders and down his arms. Reverence filled her eyes. She guided his hands up to her breasts.

  He cupped and squeezed the pert globes, pinching her nipples through the thin barrier of her top. She moaned and planted a series of soft kisses at the place where his neck and shoulder met.

  “Viktor, please, help me,” she groaned.

  His cock throbbed. Need sizzled along his limbs. He tightened his grip on her nipples, and she cried out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement but ignored it. All his focus was on Mysta. He released her nipples and tugged up her sweater to expose her bra and found the clasp. A few movements had it open.

  He yelped when her teeth sunk into his skin. Not enough to mark him, but he knew it would bruise for a few hours.

  She released him long enough for him to reverse their situation. Gripping her hips tight, he rolled her until she was below him. Her legs parted to make room for him. Her hair fanned out, forming a dark brown nimbus around her head. Her eyes reflected the desire that burned inside of him. All the air escaped his lungs. After she’d left, he hadn’t thought he’d be able to
witness this sight again. His heart stuttered. All he could do was stare at her bruised, red lips, the flush in her face, and the way her breasts pressed against his chest as she breathed in and out. Her hips tilted upward to meet his. She rolled her pelvis against the ridge of his jeans, and sparks skittered down his shaft to buzz around his balls.

  He groaned and lowered his head, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach, taking his time. They had all night. She tugged up her sweater and removed it. He continued on across her chest, between the valley of her cleavage and over her stomach to tease the edge of her jeans with his tongue. Making his way back up her body. His arms planted at her sides, he held himself above her, not quite touching her, and lowered his head, using his tongue to circle her breast. Around and around he went with butterfly-light touches. Mysta wrapped her fingers around his hair and tried to urge him closer. He held back.

  “Do you want this Mys, me? This moment? We stop if you say so.” He had to know she wanted this, that she would be with him.

  Her body stilled, and she studied him. “What about Malcolm?” She nodded toward Malcolm. “I can taste his need, his magic, the overwhelming power of it, so much of it. He…”

  Viktor lifted his gaze and sought out his friend who sat in his chair, one hand working the bulge in his jeans. Despite both of them looking at him, Malcolm didn’t stop his actions.

  “Do you want him with you? With us?” As much as he wanted Mysta all to himself this bit of Lunar Lust seemed bigger, more than what he’d ever experienced before.

  “I…” She swallowed, glanced over at Malcolm.

  “You don’t have to…” Viktor started. Neither man would push if she didn’t want Mal with them, but Viktor did worry about Mal given just how much of his lust Viktor could taste in the air and feel thrumming in his veins.

  “No, he’s in pain. He needs…us,” she whispered. “But this is the only time for both of you.”

  “Like old times, a bit of bondage, yes?” Viktor had to be sure of what she wanted.