by Jayne Castle
Her mouth opened for him. She kicked off her shoes and drew one bare foot up along his leg.
"You really want to play with fire tonight, don't you?" he said against her throat.
"Can't wait," she breathed.
He let her feel the edge of his teeth. "Neither can I."
He released her wrists. Her arms promptly wound back around his neck. He felt her fingers plow through his hair.
Leaning into her so that he could feel the swell of her soft breasts, he reached down, grabbed the hem of her skirt, and shoved it up to her waist.
She gasped when he put his hand between her legs. His temperature went up another few degrees when he discovered that her panties were already damp.
"Talk about melting amber," he murmured. "You're the real thing, you know that? Hot, liquid amber. Right here in the palm of my hand."
"You do have very good hands." She twisted against his fingers.
He liked how she sucked in her breath when he touched her. He liked it a lot. Impatience roared through him. He tugged the silky panties down out of the way. They fell to her ankles and she stepped out of them.
He was shaking a little now with the force of his need. He had to concentrate hard in order to unfasten his belt and unzip his trousers. When he finally freed himself, her eyes widened at the sight of his erection. Then she smiled slowly and reached down to stroke him.
He caught one of her smooth, sweetly rounded thighs, elevated her leg and folded it around his waist. She was open and ready. When he teased her tight little bud she gasped. He seized her other leg and tucked it around himself.
He braced her against the wall and thrust into her hot, snug body.
"Emmett." She clutched at his shoulders to steady herself.
Again and again he drove himself into her. She clung to him as though he were a life raft in a storm, hanging on as if she would never let go.
When he was on the brink of his own release he pulled out of her spicy heat.
"No, wait," she yelped. "I'm almost there."
"Don't worry, we're both going to get where we're going."
He turned her around and bent her over at the waist in front of the cabinet of curiosities. Automatically she reached out with both hands to grasp the edge of the cabinet to steady herself.
"What in the—? Oh, my." She looked at him in the mirror. Her eyes glowed with a mix of astonishment and sensual delight. "This is… interesting."
He fitted his palms to her buttocks, savoring the firm, full curves. "It's even better from my point of view."
He positioned himself and entered her slick, tight vagina again, hard and fast.
She made a soft, exquisitely excited little sound and moved her lovely rear back a little, enabling him to go even deeper.
He took one hand off her waist and reached around and under her sleek belly to find the magic button.
When he made contact with her sensitive clitoris this time she gave a near soundless shriek and convulsed around him.
He went over the edge with her, pumping himself into her for what seemed like forever, until he was spent and dry.
She came back to her senses an eon or two later and discovered that she was lying on her back on the hall carpet. Emmett was sprawled heavily on top of her, his head pillowed on her breast. Somewhere along the line he must have turned off the overhead ceiling fixture because the space was drenched in shadows. A truly thoughtful gesture, she decided. Otherwise, in her current position, she would have been staring straight up into a very bright light.
"Emmett?"
"Mmmph?" He did not open his eyes.
She threaded her fingers through his hair. "Just wondered if you were asleep yet."
"Almost." He sounded as if he'd been drugged.
Once the afterburn buzz dissipated, exhaustion overtook a hunter very swiftly.
"We need to get you upstairs."
"Nah. I'll sleep here tonight."
"On the floor? I don't think that's such a good idea." She tried to wriggle out from underneath him. "You'll wake up all stiff and sore."
"Don't mind," he mumbled. But he shifted slightly, freeing her.
"Come on, you can make it up the stairs." She crouched beside him, grabbed him under one arm, and tried to haul him upright.
"Forget it." He opened one eye. "Isn't going to work."
"Yes, it is. Just stay awake for another three minutes and we'll manage."
He groaned but he got his feet under him and stood, swaying slightly. "You're sort of bossy, you know that?"
"We all have our talents."
She steadied him while he dragged himself up the stairs. When they reached the top she shoved him into the bedroom. He dropped like a large, heavy boulder onto the bed.
"Satisfied?" he mumbled into the pillow.
She smiled to herself, thinking of the events that had just taken place downstairs in the front hall. "Very."
"Hell of a wedding night, huh?"
"I'll certainly never forget it."
"Not the way I planned it," he said, barely whispering now.
"I know," she said gently. "But it doesn't matter." She unfolded the blanket at the foot of the bed and spread it over him. "Emmett?"
"Mmm?"
"There's something I want to ask you. Something very personal."
"This probably isn't a good time." His words were so slurred she could barely make them out. "Can't think straight anymore."
Which was exactly why she had decided to ask the question, she thought. But there was no need to explain.
"Earlier tonight you were afraid to make love to me while you were rezzed from the amber meltdown. Did you really believe I'd think that you were some kind of sex-crazed beast who couldn't control himself?"
There was such a long silence that she thought he'd fallen asleep.
"Didn't want you to think I was just another hunter," he muttered. "Your opinion of hunters is kinda low, y'know?"
"You're not like any other hunter." She tucked the blanket in around him. "You're different."
"Yeah?" he growled. "How?"
"You're my husband."
She walked out of the room and shut the door very quietly behind her.
Chapter 16
The doorbell chimed imperiously the following morning just as Lydia started to pour a second cup of rez-tea for Emmett.
"I'm up, I'll get it." She put down the pot and walked out of the kitchen.
Fuzz, who had been eating his breakfast out of a dish on the floor, abandoned his eggs and toast to scamper after her.
"If it's one of the neighbors complaining about that little scene with the ghost last night," Emmett called after her, "let me handle it."
"Other than a few scorch marks on our terrace, there was no damage done," she said over her shoulder. "The neighbors have no grounds for complaint."
"They may feel a little differently about the matter," he warned.
When she reached the hall she took a quick look around to make sure that there was no evidence of the Grand Consummation. Everything appeared to be in order, she decided, but she knew that she would never walk into this house again without thinking of her wedding night.
She opened the door and found thirteen-year-old Zane Hoyt, her neighbor at the Dead City View Apartments, on the front step. He was dressed in his favorite ghost-hunter-wannabe outfit complete with a big chunk of amber around his neck. Fuzz hopped into his arms.
"Hi, Lydia." Zane beamed at her as he scratched Fuzz. "Aunt Olinda says you and Mr. London got married yesterday. It's in all the papers, she says. I came by to see if it was really true."
"It's true."
Zane had lost his parents at an early age. He was being raised by his aunt. His greatest ambition in life was to become a ghost-hunter. He certainly had the psi-talent for it, but Lydia had been hoping to steer him toward a more respectable career path.
Now that Emmett had entered Zane's life, however, she had a hunch that she was fighting a losing battle
. Zane had immediately glommed onto Emmett as a father figure. Hero worship was powerful stuff.
Zane leaned forward to examine her left hand. "Wow, you've got a ring and everything. That is so high-rez." His face lit with excitement. "You're married to the hottest ghost-hunter of them all. Mr. London's the boss of the whole Guild now, you know?"
"Trust me, I'm aware of that."
"Aunt Olinda says to give you her congratulations. She says we're gonna watch you and Mr. London walk into the fancy party at Restoration Hall on the rez-screen tonight."
"I'll be sure to wave." She glanced at her watch. "Shouldn't you be in school?"
"I'm on my way. Just wanted to see what was going on for myself so I could tell everyone in class."
Emmett sauntered into the front hall and opened the closet door. "Morning, Zane. How's it going today?"
"I'm doing fine, Mr. London, except for that stupid test I've got to take this morning. I just stopped by to see Lydia and you and tell you that I think it's really great that you two got married."
"Thanks. Appreciate that." Emmett hooked his jacket over his shoulder and picked up his briefcase. He gave Lydia a brief but thorough good-bye kiss. Then he looked at Zane. "I'm on my way into the office. I'll give you a ride to school."
"All right." Zane almost levitated with excitement. "Wait'll the guys see me getting out of the Guild boss's own personal Slider."
He handed Fuzz to Lydia and whipped around to race toward the vehicle.
"You've certainly made his day," Lydia said to Emmett.
A sexy gleam lit his eyes. "You certainly made my night, Mrs. London. Sorry I zoned out just as things were getting interesting."
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. "If things had gotten any more interesting, I wouldn't be able to move this morning."
His amusement vanished. A watchful expression replaced the sensual laughter in his gaze.
"Are you… okay?" he asked very quietly.
She folded her arms and leaned one shoulder against the edge of the door frame. "I hope this won't dent your hunter pride too much but I gotta tell you that I'm just fine this morning."
The tightness at the corners of his mouth eased. "Just fine?"
She wrinkled her nose. "You didn't scare me one little bit last night, London, if that's what's worrying you."
His mouth quirked. "You're sure?"
"Positive."
"I didn't make you even a little bit nervous?"
"Nope."
"Huh." He took his foot down off the step. "Well, I'll have to see what I can do to improve my technique tonight. Maybe if I put my mind to it I can summon a really, really big ghost and induce an even hotter afterburn."
"Don't bother with the ghost. You don't need one." She grinned. "Got news for you, London. Last night was interesting, but it wasn't all that much different from your usual style."
"Damn. You didn't think the part where you were bent over the cabinet watching us in the mirror was just a little bit different?"
"It was merely a clever variation on one of your many excellent themes." She came away from the door frame, adjusted the collar of his shirt, and gave him a wifely peck on his cheek. "Now go to work like a good Guild boss. I'll see you tonight. What time do we have to leave for our big scene at the ball?"
"Hell, I've got so much going on I nearly forgot about the Restoration Ball." Emmett frowned. "Tamara said it starts at eight. She suggested that we plan to put in an appearance around nine."
Lydia stifled a sigh. Things had been going along quite pleasantly this morning until Tamara's name came up.
"She wants us to make an entrance, is that it?" she asked politely.
"The whole point of this exercise is to make sure that everyone, especially the media, takes note of the fact that the Guild boss and his wife are part of mainstream society here in Cadence."
Forget playing Amberella tonight, Lydia told herself. This isn't a romantic fairy tale. It's all about grabbing some good PR for the Guild.
"The image thing." She nodded. "Got it."
"There will be a lot of traffic downtown tonight. We'd better leave here around eight-thirty."
"I'll be ready," she promised.
He turned to head toward the Slider and then paused one last time. "You're sure there wasn't anything a little out of the ordinary about last night?"
"Seemed like a normal evening at home."
"Huh." He shook his head and continued on toward the car. "Sure seemed pretty unusual to me."
"Just goes to show how dull and boring your life was before you met me, London."
He looked back at her, his teeth flashing in a wicked grin. "Trust me, my eyes have been opened."
Melanie glanced up from the morning edition of the Tattler when Lydia paused in the doorway of the office. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the blushing bride. Shrimp's looking for you. He's busily scheduling about a hundred special tours to be escorted personally by the wife of the new Guild boss, her very own self."
Lydia grimaced. "Thanks for the warning."
"How was the wedding night?"
"That's an extremely personal question. But since you ask, one of the more interesting highlights occurred when a huge ghost materialized on the terrace at what can only be described as an inconvenient moment."
Melanie stopped grinning. "Uh-oh. Not good. Are we talking about a seriously large ghost?"
"It was nasty, Mel. Biggest UDEM I've ever seen outside the walls. It probably would have set fire to the house if Emmett hadn't been able to de-rez it."
"Sheesh. You think it had something to do with the attack on Mercer Wyatt?"
"That's my guess but Emmett is still trying to figure out the connection."
Melanie shuddered. "Looks like maybe there is some downside to being married to a Guild boss, after all. Who would have guessed?"
"I gotta tell you, life was a lot simpler when Emmett was just a business consultant." Lydia studied the copy of the Tattler. "What do the headlines look like today? The box out front was empty."
"I know. I got the very last copy. This issue is probably sold out all over town." Melanie propped the tabloid up in front of herself so that Lydia could read the giant headlines.
GUILD BOSS WEDS MYSTERY MISTRES IN MC,
Couple Will Appear at Formal Ball Tonight
Lydia anxiously examined the photo of herself standing in front of the entrance to Designs by Finella. She breathed a sigh of relief.
"Could have been worse," she said.
"It is worse, in my opinion." Melanie shook the paper in amused disgust. "A lot worse. You will notice that they cropped me right out of the photo. I was standing next to you when you gave your big quote to the media, if you will recall. But there's no sign of me in this picture."
"I would have been delighted to have been the one who got cropped." Lydia made to move off down the hall.
"Wait a sec." Melanie put down the newspaper. "Jack is taking me to lunch today. Want to come with us? My treat?"
"Thanks, I'd love to, but I'm pretty busy at the moment."
Melanie cleared her throat. "Uh, as a favor to me."
That stopped Lydia in her tracks. "A favor to you? We have lunch together all the time. How would I be doing you any special favors if I let you treat me today?"
"It's for Jack, actually." Melanie's cheeks turned a surprising shade of pink. "I like him a lot. We're even starting to talk about an MC."
"You are? I hadn't realized it was that serious."
"He's a great guy and it would thrill him to pieces to be able to tell his pals at the Guild Hall that he went to lunch with the boss's wife," Melanie finished in a little rush of words.
"Ah, so that's it." Lydia smiled ruefully. "Sure. Let's all go to lunch together. Why not? I've got to eat to keep up my strength for my grand entrance at the ball tonight, anyway."
"Thanks, I appreciate this. Jack is going to get such a kick out of it."
"No problem. But under the circumstances, I in
sist you let me pay for the meal."
"No, really, that's okay."
"Forget it." She winked. "I'll put it on the Guild's tab."
Melanie blinked and then relaxed back into a cheerful smile. "Well, in that case, I think I'll make reservations at the Riverside Grill. It's one of the most expensive places in town. I've always wanted to eat there."
"Go for it," Lydia said.
"You know, what with shopping at Designs by Finella and eating at high-end restaurants, my social life has certainly become a lot more classy since you got this Guild boss-wife gig."
The phone on Lydia's desk rang a few minutes before noon. She reached for the instrument without taking her attention off a catalog of newly acquired antiquities being offered for sale by one of the more reliable galleries on Ruin Row.
The object that had caught her attention was an example of what the experts called a funerary column. No one knew for certain that the elaborately worked objects had actually been used in alien burial ceremonies but since they were often found in the vicinity of sarcophagi, they were presumed to be associated with death rituals. Shrimpton's House of Ancient Horrors specialized in the spooky and the morbid. The funerary urn would fit in nicely with the rest of the collection in the Tomb Wing.
"Shrimpton's House of Ancient Horrors, curator's office," she said, mentally calculating how low she could go on the offer for the funerary column.
"I'm calling for Lydia Smith." The woman on the other end sounded hesitant.
"This is Lydia."
"Are you the person who phoned the Old Frequency College alumni office trying to locate people who knew Troy Burgis?"
"Yes." Lydia closed the catalog quickly. "I am. Who is this?"
"Karen Price. I was a year behind Troy Burgis at Old Frequency College."
"Did you know him well?"
Karen made an irritated sound. "I don't think anyone knew Troy Burgis well. He was a very bizarre person."
"What was your connection to him?"
"My roommate was a member of his band."
"That would be Andrea Preston?"
"Yes. In addition to playing the harmonic flute in his band, she dated him. They were a very intense couple for a while. I met him a few times when he came to pick her up or bring her back to the dorm after a date."
