Once again, Reece ground slowly, sensuously, into the bed in the unmistakable movements of sex. His chest expanded as he drew in a quick, hard breath. "Silk. Like silk." His mouth looked impossibly carnal as he shaped the words.
She drew in a deep breath of her own. Her nipples tingled and peaked as she remembered what it had been like to make love to him. The feel of his mouth laving her aching breasts, his tongue rolling the little peaks against the edge of his teeth. The way he'd held her so effortlessly still under him as she'd writhed helplessly in his arms.
The memory alone was enough to bring cream welling inside her in a hot, maddening trickle. Impulsively she reached down and slid one hand into the waistband of her lace panties.
Her delving fingers found her lips swollen and dewed with arousal.
He moved again, rolling his beautiful ass as he thrust into the thick fur throw that covered the bed. She remembered the size of his cock, the way it had felt sinking deep, stretching and tormenting her so deliciously. With a soft groan, she thrust one finger deeply into her sex as it grew slicker with every move Reece made. She could almost feel his broad back under her hands as she opened herself wide for his lunging thrusts.
Erin shivered. God, she wanted him again. Wanted to know his fierce hunger one more time.
She also knew she didn't dare. Having sex with Champion meant becoming a Maja—and courting a starring role as a human sacrifice. Not even mind-blowing sex with Champion was worth risking the murder of thousands of people.
Then he rolled over on his back.
"Hot damn." Erin stared. She hadn't gotten a good look at him before. He'd felt huge as he'd slid into her, but even so, she hadn't realized just how thick and powerful his shaft really was.
His cock arched over his lean abdomen from its nest of dark curls, a single drop of pre-cum clinging to its rosy head. Thick veins snaked along its length.
And she remembered how it felt.
She lay sprawled and dazed across Champion's body as his cock shuttled in and out and he gave her what felt like the world's biggest hickey. Somehow the slight, stinging pain made the pleasure that much greater. Her third orgasm of the night rolled over her in a blinding wave. Erin gasped. Champion arched and stiffened, driving to his full length, so deep she had to scream again.
Shuddering in need, Erin added a second finger to the one deep inside her as she pushed down the edge of her corset so she could stroke one hard nipple. Unable to look away from him, barely breathing, she pinched and twisted the swollen peak.
He arched his massive torso and rolled his hips upward as if driving into her. His cock bobbed, as that longing drop of pre-cum caught the light. His balls were drawn tight to the big shaft, as though he was seconds from spilling.
Gasping, Erin thumbed her clit and pumped her fingers, feeling the first pulses of an orgasm. In thirty years of life, she'd never seen anything as erotic as Reece Champion having a wet dream.
Suddenly he stiffened, his big body drawing into a bow of erotic effort. A jet of cum shot across the cobblestone ridges of his abdomen.
"Erin," he sighed.
Oh, God. She threw back her head and closed her eyes, imagining walking over there and cleansing Champion's big body with her tongue until he woke up and did to her whatever it was he was dreaming about.
She clenched her teeth to strangle her own cry as she came, knowing she didn't dare let Champion catch her masturbating. In their current wild mood, that might be more than either of them could resist.
He woke with Erin's scent filling his head and his balls throbbing like a toothache.
Reece lifted his head. The first thing he saw was his own cock, a drop of pre-cum on its tip. More semen covered his belly. He grimaced. Damn, he hadn't had a wet dream like this in centuries.
Glancing over, he saw Erin was awake, standing at the other end of the room with her back to him. Something about the rigid line of her spine—and the rich scent of female musk in the air—told him she'd witnessed his little nocturnal emission.
And it had turned her on. In fact—He drew the mask more deeply into his lungs. It smells as though she—
Drop it, Champion. He shoved aside the incendiary image of Erin masturbating. Rolling off the bed, he started for his pants, left lying by the pool. As he passed her, the intoxicating smell of her need grew even stronger. The Desire wrapped around the base of his fangs and clamped a burning hold on his balls. It was all he could do not to jerk her into his arms. Instead he snatched up his pants, his hands shaking like a palsied old man's.
Not good. Not good at all.
An image spilled through his mind—Erin, her long legs wrapped around his waist, her head thrown back as her muscles gripped him like a creamy fist.
Reece swallowed, his mouth dry as week-old bread as he tucked in his desperate hard-on and jerked his pants into place around his hips.
"Did he put a spell on you?"
Startled, Reece looked up. She hadn't even looked around. "What?"
"Geirolf. I was thinking just now. About the way you keep looking at me." Erin turned and faced him. "I saw him kiss your forehead before he sent us here. Did he put you under a compulsion to have sex with me?"
Reece sighed. He should have known she'd realize it. "Yeah. I think he did."
Silence spun between them, aching with undercurrents of desperation and lust.
"Guess I'm lucky he didn't just order you to rape me," she said.
He drew in another deep bream, blew it out. "Yeah. I thought for a minute he had, but when we got here…" He shrugged.
"I wonder why he didn't."
Champion studied her, trying to decide what to make of her tone. "He likes to play games. Maybe he wanted me aware and fighting it. Or maybe there are preparations he's got to make before he—"
"Sacrifices us."
"Yeah."
"What the hell are we going to do?" Her expression was calm, but he could see the fear deep in her eyes.
"I don't know."
Erin stalked toward the table and picked up the pitcher. Looking into it, she shook her head. "Full. You know, I could have sworn we drank half of it."
He cleared his throat. "The cell's enchanted. It provides for the physical needs of its captives. Or at least some of them. Which means an unending supply of food and drink."
"Well, at least we won't starve." She poured herself a goblet. "I've been thinking."
"Yeah?" He turned and bent until he could splash water on his face from the bath. Wiping off the evidence of his dream with one wet hand, he looked over at her. "If you've got any ideas, I'd love to hear them."
Erin walked toward him in that long, rolling female stride that was damn near enough to give him an erection all by itself. "It sounds as if you're going to end up changing me whether you like it or not. Maybe we need to just go for it."
At those words, such raw lust flashed across Champion's face, Erin felt her knees go weak.
Then he looked away. "No."
"Aren't we fighting the inevitable?"
He whirled on her, his lips pulled back from white fangs. "Yes! If the inevitable is being guest of honor at a human sacrifice and the resulting destruction of my people—by God, I'm going to fight it all the way down."
Erin met his determined stare. Just beneath the rage, she could see his hunger. "But what if I can save us?"
She watched as he paced to the nearest window and braced his arms on the frame. His back looked a mile wide. "And what if you go insane?" he asked in a low voice. "What do you think I'm going to have to do then?"
"What do you mean?"
"I knew a woman once." Reece didn't look around, his attention focused on the Mageverse landscape just beyond the impenetrable glass. "A beautiful woman, an intelligent woman. She sparkled. And she loved my best friend with such intensity, I envied him." He sighed. "But she was a Latent, and he was a Magus, and the Council of Majae refused him permission to turn her. So he Changed her anyway."
"And she w
ent nuts."
He nodded. "Just like that, the woman I knew was gone, replaced by a paranoid psychotic who believed everybody was out to destroy her, including the man she loved. She killed him." He turned restlessly to stare out the window at the moonlit night. "And I killed her."
"You're afraid I'll end up the same way."
"Yes." He raked one hand through his hair in agitation. "Look, the way it works is, the Majae's Council decides who gets the Gift. Maybe somebody's had a vision that particular candidate will play a role in the Great Mission—our task of saving Humanity. Or maybe some Maja or Magus submits the Latent's name for consideration. The Council vets the candidate, casts runes—whatever the hell they do. Then if they decide the Latent can withstand the Change, they send somebody to have sex with her or him."
For something to do with her hands, Erin started slicing off a piece of one loaf of bread. Like the pitcher, it appeared untouched, though she remembered eating from it the night before. "Sounds pretty"—she shrugged—"cold."
"Yeah, well, it's a serious business. Because sometimes even the Majae's Council guesses wrong, and the new Maja becomes a threat. And she's got to be killed."
"You're afraid you'll have to do the same thing to me."
"Assuming you don't get me first."
She turned her attention to a chunk of cheese and sawed off a piece. "Yeah, well, if we don't do anything, I'm dead anyway. Logically, Demon Boy is going to lose patience and put a rape spell on you. Assuming he hasn't already."
"I'm not going to rape you." He gritted the words between clenched teeth.
Erin eyed his back. "Yeah, well, I'd be tempted to walk over there and wrap my fingers around that raging hard-on just to find out. Unfortunately, I've got a feeling it would be like sticking my hand in a tiger cage, and I'm not that brave."
Suddenly he exploded, driving his fist savagely into the window. It bonged like a bell as he hit it again and again. "I'm. Not. Going. To. Rape. You!"
She waited until the reverberations died. "Well, that just fills me with confidence."
He whirled, his mouth contorted in a snarl that sent her jolting back a pace. "Fuck you!"
"Yeah, why don't we? Before you lose what little control you've got."
Reece stared at her, his eyes glittering, a hectic flush on his cheeks. His powerful chest rose and fell with his hard, panting breaths. There was a bulge in his silk trousers that made her want to either look away or touch it. She forced herself to hold his gaze instead.
Finally he spoke, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Erin, don't you understand? I don't want to destroy you."
"Reece, you've been on the job long enough to know—sometimes you just have to take a chance. And we've got to. Our backs are to the wall. If we do nothing, eventually Geirolf's going to come back. And maybe this time he really will give you a compulsion to rape me. Then everybody loses—except that demonic son of a bitch. I don't want to die, but even more than that, I won't be responsible for all those deaths. I'll do anything—anything at all—to avoid that. Including die."
Hoover Building, FBI Headquarters, Washington
Parker looked up from the stack of reports on his desk as Mike Richards walked out of the office with Reece Champion.
Who was not, of course, Reece Champion. Lord Geirolf had simply assumed the vampire's form in order to quell the assistant director's suspicions that he had a mole among his agents. Which the demon god had evidently done, judging from the unfocused look in Richards's eyes.
The AD led the way to Parker's desk and introduced "Champion." "You two will be working together," Richards said. To Geirolf/Champion, he added, "Why don't you use my office while I grab a bite to eat. I'm starved."
"Sure," the demon god said, smiling Champion's easy white grin. "Come on, Parker, I'll explain where we're going."
Parker rose and followed Geirolf/Champion back to Richards's office as all around them, other agents tried very hard to look very busy. They'd all heard of Champion's formidable reputation, though nobody but Richards knew he was a vampire.
"You don't have to worry about being discovered," Geirolf told him telepathically as they walked. "Richards now believes you're a good and loyal employee." He chuckled. "In fact, you'll probably get a raise."
"What about the others? Richards wasn't the only one who suspected the FBI has a mole in the ranks."
Geirolf waved a dismissing hand as they stepped into Richards's office and he closed the door behind them. "I'll take care of them shortly. In the meantime, you'll be assisting 'Champion' with a mission."
Parker sat down as his master dropped into the thickly padded office chair behind Richards's neat desk. "You only have to give the word."
Geirolf smiled with Champion's mouth, but there was something inhuman and smug in his eyes. "I know. You'll be accompanying me back to the Death's Sabbat compound in Georgia for the ceremonies. I've summoned all the cults together, and I want you to have everything ready when they arrive in a couple of days."
Parker sat back in his chair. "A couple of days? Why not just teleport them?"
"And waste that much magic?" Geirolf snorted. "I'd rather leave the driving to Greyhound. Besides, I'm spending a great deal of power just keeping the Majae from awakening Merlin's Grimoire. I need to keep them in the dark a little while longer. As long as they're so focused on that book, they can't devote their full forces to finding Champion."
Since his master seemed to be in a good mood, Parker decided to dare a question. "Speaking of whom, has he Turned the girl yet?"
"Oh, no. I designed the compulsion to build slowly, so he can fight it for another day or two." His laugh was unpleasant. "By the time we're ready, it'll be so strong, he'll pin her against the nearest wall and fuck her like a rabbit."
Parker frowned. "What if he decides to Change her deliberately, before the spell can force him? They could escape."
"Champion?" Geirolf snorted. "Not likely. He had a very ugly experience with an unsanctioned Maja a couple of centuries ago. He'd never risk Turning her. That's why I chose him rather than one of the other vampires I'd identified. Besides, there's no way a newly Turned Maja would be able to break out of that cell. It held me, after all."
Parker considered challenging a few of his master's assumptions, but decided that might be pushing it. "What about the cultists? What's your plan for them, if I might ask?"
Geirolf shrugged. "Once the Magekind is dead, I'm afraid we may have trouble with the Sidhe. It's entirely possible Llyr and his brother will decide to put aside their differences and unite against me." His smile was dark. "I'm going to have to do something about that—with a little help from the cults."
Erin was right: Turning her might be the only chance they had, and Reece knew it. Maybe if she'd been any other woman, he would have already yielded to the ruthless, inevitable logic of the situation. If she went mad and he ended up having to kill her, that was still better than being sacrificed in a spell that would kill thousands of people.
But she wasn't any other woman. She was Erin.
That shouldn't make a difference. He had his duty, his sworn oath to do whatever the hell he had to in order to ensure the survival of the human race and its Mageverse guardians.
If only she wasn't so intelligent and honorable and admirable. Not to mention so lush she made his balls ache even when he wasn't under a spell.
But if he Gifted her and it went bad, he'd plunge her into a hell of madness that would end only with one of them killing the other.
The thought made his gut twist. God, he hated killing women. In more than two centuries as America's champion, he'd had to end the lives of only three: Lizzie and two others whose executions the Council had ordered.
There had been women who had probably needed killing—spies, traitors, criminals—but he'd always managed to find other solutions to whatever problem they presented. And he'd never killed a woman he'd slept with.
He certainly didn't want to start with Erin.
Reece g
rimaced, remembering the visceral jolt in his arm as the sword rammed home in Lizzie's chest. There'd been such gratitude in her gaze. She'd known what Mageverse Fever had done to her, and she'd seen death as a welcome release.
Maybe it was weak. Maybe he was shirking his duty. But he didn't want to have to meet Erin's eyes as he killed her.
"There is one alternative," she said suddenly from the table, picking restlessly at a piece of bread.
Reece looked over at her, trying to ignore the fist of lust that gripped his balls at the sight of her lush body just barely contained in that Merry Widow. She still sat on the table, those long legs crossed. He wanted them wrapped around his waist. "I'd like to hear it," he said, and hoped she didn't notice the rasp of raw hunger in his voice.
"You can kill me now."
He stared at her, feeling like a man who'd taken a hard punch right between the eyes. "What?"
"We can't do nothing, Champion." Her gaze was fierce and direct on his. "Doing nothing is the same as just giving ourselves to that bastard. Sooner or later, he'll make you take me, and we'll be finished."
He should have realized she'd see the situation as clearly as he did. "I'm not killing you."
"Stop thinking like a Boy Scout!" Erin exploded, banging the flat of her hand on the table. "You're an American agent I know you've had to make tough choices before. Make one now. The only no-risk alternative is killing me, and you know it."
Forgetting the danger, he stalked toward her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and hoisted her half off the table until they were nose to nose. "I won't be bluffed into Gifting you, Erin!"
"I'm not bluffing, Champion. Geirolf can't kill me if I'm already dead."
Simmering with frustrated rage, he snarled into her face, "Do you honestly think that hasn't occurred to me?"
"Oh, I know it's occurred to you. You're not stupid."
Reece cursed viciously and let her go before he yielded to his driving need to kiss her. Her bottom hit the table with a thump that rattled crockery.
He was hard as Excalibur, and felt at least that long.
She dared curl that luscious lip at him. "I didn't realize you were this big a Pollyanna."
Master of the Night Page 11
