Shadow Flight (The Shadow Series)

by Christine Feehan

  The bodies dropped to the ground.

  Ricco stood looking for a long time at his wife. He couldn’t see anything else. Only the perfection that was Mariko. Heat coursed through his body. Flames licked at his skin. Lust and love mixed together until he didn’t know where one started and the other ended, the two emotions so intense and so intertwined. Her eyes shone at him, dark with her own need, watching him the way she did, that focused look that always told him she was all his.

  He caught her hand and tugged her into the shadow leading back up to the roof. The heat was so intense, burning through him as he stepped out of the shadow tube. He didn’t try to control it as he normally would have.

  “Take your clothes off, Mariko.” Even in his heightened state, even commanding her, he used a velvet-soft voice. He watched her through half-closed eyes as he pulled the red silk rope from beneath his jacket and shook it out, beginning to run it through his hands to check for any splinters.

  Dio, but she was beautiful. She wore nothing under her pristine pinstriped suit, and it was off in seconds, carefully folded and set aside near the shadow entrance. He slipped a rope around her wrist and bound her hand to the neon sign with the giant café letters. Stretching her arm out, he paced over to the end of the sign, as close as he could get, stretching her other arm, the rope a shackle around that slender wrist. He could easily slip the knots in seconds and break her free, or she could, if necessary, but she looked a prisoner, the huge letters standing tall behind her, going off and on while her naked body appeared small and vulnerable.

  He could barely contain his raging cock as he began to frame her breasts in a harness of red. He worked fast, laying his ropes carefully, checking with her to ensure that no line was uncomfortable, his hands sliding over her soft skin, flicking her nipples, his mouth on the pulse at her neck. He spread her legs while he framed her sex, his thumb circling her clit and flicking it and rubbing. Several times he couldn’t resist pushing his finger deep to coat it and then licking it clean. She tasted so good. Once he dropped to his knees to inspect his knots and he couldn’t resist lapping at her. Once he started, he couldn’t stop until her soft little moans and familiar music drove him insane.

  He was on his feet again, lifting her. “Wrap your legs around me, farfallina mia, I’m not going to be gentle.” He couldn’t be. He was too far gone.

  “I don’t want you to be.”

  She was helpless in the ropes, but she looked so gorgeous, the red silk framing her breasts, emphasizing her feminine form, the ugliness of the sign a counterpoint to the beauty of a woman. Her sex, framed in the red harness, with intricate knots that dripped down her mound, over her hips and down her thighs but pulled tight around her lips and between her cheeks, gleamed with each pulse of the neon sign.

  Ricco drove his cock into her snug, wet heat, wanting to fling back his head and howl as the fire raced up his spine. She was paradise. Sheer paradise. Everything to him. Wild sex on a rooftop and then home, where he could make love to her all night, knowing they had done what they could to keep Nicoletta safe. Yeah. He called that a win.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Nicoletta dressed carefully in the pinstriped suit Taviano handed her. His instructions were very clear. If she wore underwear, it had to be silk. There were a lot of new clothes in the drawers. She hadn’t wanted to touch things that hadn’t belonged to her, but she was Taviano’s wife, and she would be expected to accompany him wherever he went. That meant wearing clothes that cost the Earth.

  She ran her hand down the material of the suit. It felt very different from anything she’d ever worn before. Textures sometimes bothered her, but this felt right on her body. She had opted to wear silk panties beneath it. She hadn’t quite gotten to the point where she was comfortable walking around knowing she didn’t at least have little scraps of underwear protecting her.

  She leaned her chin onto her palm as she paused by the hall mirror. That was the strangest thing of all. She probably was safer being nude. She could disappear into the shadows if she wasn’t wearing clothes. All that time she’d been with her step-uncles, suffering their attacks, had she known she could have escaped by using the shadows, she would have done so. Her means to leave had been right there all along.

  Taviano’s attackers had been men who knew how to use the shadows. They were older and more experienced. She hadn’t known, and he hadn’t been able to leave.

  Taviano came up behind her, close, so close she felt his body heat. He wrapped his arm around her, one hand sliding into the loose lapel of her jacket to cup her breast over the thin lace of the silk bra. His thumb and finger rolled her nipple. Her sex clenched and instantly she went damp and her stomach did that slow hot roll.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I like touching you.” He didn’t remove his hand. He tugged on her nipple through the silk. “Does it bother you?”

  She pushed back into him. She wanted more from him. She wanted to be able to have a normal relationship, not be afraid every time he touched her that if he took it too far, she’d mess everything up by falling apart. Her first reaction was always fear. Her second reaction was an incredibly intense heat flooding her veins and pooling low and sinfully wicked. She laid her head back against his chest.

  “Nicoletta? Does it bother you that I like touching you?”

  “No.” Her voice came out a husky whisper. She barely recognized it. There was no way to suppress the longing, and she didn’t try. “I like that you do. I hope you always want to touch me like this, Taviano.”

  “Next time, tesoro, when Stefano isn’t coming with us, you don’t need to wear a bra or panties. I know you think you need them, but you don’t. I want you to feel freedom. Not necessarily because you’re going without them but from the idea of having to have clothes to protect you. First, you’ve gotten to a point where you can protect yourself. And second, I love your body and I love knowing no one else has a clue but me what’s under that prim and proper little suit. Which, by the way, looks very different on you than it does on me.”

  She had to agree. He looked very handsome. All the Ferraros did. She looked … curvy. The jacket tucked in at her waist and flared over her hips. Emmanuelle had worn the men’s cut for a long time and then she’d demanded a female version. The tailor had created a beautiful line, with the lapels fitting tight over her breasts and even tighter through the ribs before flaring out over the hips. The back was longer, a series of draping ruffles that framed her bottom deliciously. It was very feminine, but the material had a lot of stretch in it, allowing the women to move when they needed to work.

  Nicoletta couldn’t look away from the two of them in the mirror. She found the sight of his hand disappearing beneath her jacket lapel very hot. His fingers caressed her breast gently and then became rougher, more possessive, before going back to those hauntingly sweet strokes that drove her out of her mind.

  He buried his face in that little spot between her shoulder and neck that he knew made her particularly squirm when he kissed and bit her there. Her entire body shivered. She wanted to ask him what he was doing. She worried that Stefano could be there any minute. Weren’t they supposed to be heading out to go after the Demons who were going to come into Ferraro territory so no one could get hurt? The Ferraros were so casual about time. They acted like they had all the time in the world. She had no idea if they had to hurry or if they had most of the night to just be on call.

  They’d spent time practicing traveling short distances in the shadows to acclimate her body and give her a chance to learn to ride them on her own, mainly from one part of the house to the other. It was much scarier than she’d thought it would be, even going that distance without holding on to him. He was right behind her, but she couldn’t feel him there. The cold of the shadows and the absolute aloneness terrified her, compounded by the sensation of her skin coming off her bones, but she didn’t get sick. The distance was short enough that she was able to maintain. Once she’d managed a few times to
find her way around the house using the shadows, she had far more confidence.

  Nicoletta opened her mouth, thinking she might protest Taviano’s assault on her senses, but once his teeth scraped across her sensitive skin, she lost all ability to think clearly.

  Taviano managed to open the first two buttons of her jacket while his mouth was busy at her neck, so the jacket framed her breasts. The silk bra was barely there, just a network of lace stretching around her generous curves. In the mirror, the marks from his roving fingers showed through the lace, and her nipples stood up temptingly. The bra was a pretty mauve, the color nice against her skin.

  Her face was flushed that soft, delicate rose he loved to see over her entire body. His hands wandered down to the waistband of the trousers. It was easy enough to open them and slide his hand down inside. “I love your skin, piccola. Always so soft. When I held you at night, it was difficult not to rub my body all over yours just to feel how soft you are.”

  He massaged her feminine mound and those soft curls there. Waited a heartbeat. Two. She didn’t protest. She didn’t stop him. He tugged on the curls, watching her face in the mirror. Her breathing turned ragged. He let his fingers slide farther down, found her lips and rubbed and tugged. Her gaze jumped to his.

  “Do you like that?” He whispered the question into her ear, his breath warm, his seduction blatant. “Does it feel good?”

  She had to know he found her a desirable woman. He wanted her to know he loved her and loving her meant wanting her body as well as her heart. He stroked a finger over her clit and then her entrance. Tugged again on her lips. Gently. So gently but firmly, letting her know he could use every part of her to make her feel pleasure. The more she trusted him, the more pleasure he could give her.

  Her gaze clung to his in the mirror. “Yes.”

  His finger slid into her. He felt the bite of her channel. She was tight. Achingly so. He bit down again on that sweet spot that had her squirming. “Keep looking at me, Nicoletta. I want you to pull your bra off your breasts, so it pushes them up.”

  He began to fuck her slowly with his finger, his eyes on hers in the mirror, his mouth on her shoulder. She looked so sexy with his hand in her trousers, working her body. Her hips began to subtly move, gliding with him. That was even sexier. Her hands came up to her bra and she dragged it down beneath the two rounded globes, pushing them up. Her nipples were even tighter. They looked so damned tempting he could barely contain himself.

  “Can you roll and pinch your nipples for me?” He used one hand to show her and then pulled his hand free so he could lick off the coating of honey. He showed her his gleaming finger. “You taste so good, tesoro.”

  He held his finger to her mouth and waited for her to open. Pushing inside he watched in the mirror while she sucked. The sight made him so hard he found he was growing painful. “You’re so sexy. I love that you do whatever I ask of you.” His hand was back, sliding inside her trousers. He flicked her clit, strummed it and then flicked it again and again. “Keep rolling and tugging, Nicoletta. I love to watch.”

  Her breathing had grown ragged. She didn’t take her gaze from his in the mirror, and he knew by the way her body was flushed and her hips bucking that she was finding the sight of what he was doing to her as sexy as he found it. He slid his finger into her again and began to fuck her harder and deeper, watching her closely as he added a second finger. Every now and then, he brushed along the seam of her cheeks with his thumb. She tugged harder at her nipples and her hips found his rhythm and matched him.

  She was beautiful. So close. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. This time he wasn’t going to be selfish. This was for her. Although, he had to admit, it was for him, too. He loved seeing her like this. He loved knowing he could give this to her. He loved that she trusted him with her body enough to allow him to follow the things he asked of her and let him put his hands on her.

  He felt the tightening of her body. The tension coiling in her. Her gaze turned frantic, fearful. “I’ve got you, amore mio, I’ll always have you. Just let go. Give yourself to me.” He bit down on her neck again, gently, his teeth scraping lightly, and then he kissed her there, his tongue lapping at the small sting.

  She cried out, a soft little sound that sent an arrow piercing his heart, and he felt her channel clamping down, spilling hot honey around his fingers. The flush was on her breasts, her neck, her face. Her eyes had gone dazed, a rich haze of heat and pleasure mixed. She looked so gorgeous and abandoned, lying against him, her breasts thrust out, reddened, nipples inflamed, her trousers pushed down and the tops of her thighs glistening with evidence of her orgasm.

  “I’m not sure I can stand up.”

  She still had her eyes open. Still watched him in the mirror.

  “I’ve got you.”

  “I’m a mess.”

  “You’re sexy as hell. You know you are.”

  “No, I mean a mess. Look at me. I need a washcloth.”

  She indicated the dark curls now damp and gleaming, along with the tops of her thighs. He grinned at her in the mirror.

  “No problem, piccola, I’ve got this.”

  She looked at him suspiciously, but he was already on his knees, pulling her legs wide, wrapping his hands around her lower thighs to lock her in place, and he used his tongue to lick up the inside of her thighs, catching any honey that escaped. He took his time, devouring every drop, listening to her soft entreaties, her threats, her laughter. Her fists settled in his hair but she didn’t pull him away as he used his tongue and teeth, getting creative, teasing her, inflaming her again, showing her that spontaneous sex between a husband and a wife in the light of day could be fun and playful.

  He stroked her cheeks, bringing her closer to him, and then, when he suckled and pressed deep, he stroked the sweet little star between her cheeks. Petting her. Soothing her. Giving that a rhythm, too. Letting her get used to the feel of him touching her everywhere but not demanding anything of her. Then she was crying out again and he was cleaning her up for real. For some reason, that soft little sound she made when she came for him went straight to his heart every time. The fact that she would trust him the way she did humbled him beyond reasoning.

  He went up onto his knees and pushed his face into her belly, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m so in love with you, Nicoletta.”

  Her hands trembled as she stroked caresses through his hair. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, Taviano. I was thinking about the two of us earlier. How, if I had known I could just be naked, gone into the shadows and disappeared, where my step-uncles and Benito wouldn’t have been able to get to me, I would have done so. That you would have never been so lucky. But if I’d done that, I wouldn’t have met you.”

  He stood up slowly. “Don’t, tesoro. I wouldn’t have ever wanted you to have to be with those monsters or have them put their hands on you.”

  “I know you wouldn’t want that for me. But what I’m saying is, I wouldn’t change what happened if it meant I couldn’t be with you now.”

  He knew she meant it. She was killing him because she did mean it. She did love him that much. She had married him thinking he didn’t love her and would never fall in love with her, but she’d married him anyway so that he could continue to be a rider. Nicoletta felt he was worth saving. Just being with her, he could admit to himself that had Stefano known what had happened to him, he would be like Nicoletta. He would have given Taviano that same fierce love, but he also would have treated him differently. He would have been more careful with him. He would have guarded his words. Been more protective. Taviano would never have been treated the way Stefano treated his other siblings.

  Very gently he pulled her bra up over her breasts, hating to hide anything that beautiful from his sight. He buttoned the jacket. “I’ll be right back with a washcloth.”

  “Are you certain your brother isn’t going to come sauntering in?”

  “I’m certain, Nicoletta. I wouldn’t have started anything if there w
as that possibility. I can guarantee you that right now, Stefano has other things on his mind than the Demons.”

  We aren’t going to have an exact location where the Oklahoma City chapter of the Demons might choose to stop,” Vittorio said. He sat with Elie and Emmanuelle at a picnic table in an empty campground. They’d ridden the shadows for hours, trying to get ahead of the Demons before they made it anywhere near Chicago.

  Rigina and Rosina Greco had eyes on the cars driving from Oklahoma to Chicago, using satellite surveillance. Having more money than most countries came in handy when you wanted—or needed—toys. They knew the Demons would have to stop soon for fuel and most likely would choose to eat something as well.

  The Grecos, excellent investigators and cousins of the Ferraros, were monitoring the cell phones as well in the hopes of pinpointing Benito Valdez’s exact location. So far, no one had called him to report in. The chapters had called one another but not their leader. Still, one could hope.

  Emmanuelle sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. Immediately Elie reached up and began a slow massage without even looking at her.

  “We’re in the best position possible. The Northwye is the halfway point almost exactly, and it’s the Y intersection in the road where the highway branches off north of town. We can follow them in any direction they take from here,” Elie pointed out.

  “All we can do is wait,” Vittorio agreed. “Rigina indicated fifteen were sent out from the city. They have two Ram trucks and a 4Runner. She thinks the one running the operation is in the 4Runner.”

  “How’s Grace’s shoulder doing?” Emmanuelle asked. “I couldn’t believe she got an infection after injuring it again.”

  Vittorio flashed her a small smile. “She’s better. Doing therapy. She’s always trying to rush recovery and I have to slow her down. She gets herself into a lot of trouble that way.”

  “You’re way too cautious.” Emmanuelle mock scowled at him. “You wouldn’t be with one of us.”