by Anya Bast
He used the grip he had on her head to angle her face to the side. His mouth came down over hers as he pulled her up against him and slipped his hand down the back of her pants. She gasped at the sensation of his fingers sliding along her bare skin. His tongue skated between her lips and branded hers. He tasted of brandy and man.
His hand slid over her rear and between her legs. A groan rolled out of him as he slipped his fingers over her hot sex, feeling how damp she was from just his words and kisses. “You’re so sweet down here, Aislinn. So hot and so irresistibly gorgeous. I touched you while you slept yesterday.” His lips brushed the edge of her chin.
“Yeah?” The word came out breathy and she could barely keep her eyes open. Lust made her feel warm and heavy.
“Yeah.” He pulled her head to the side and she tried not to whimper as he traced the tip of his tongue over her skin. “I wanted to see if I could make you come in your sleep. I would’ve, too, if you hadn’t needed your rest to heal.”
She shivered under the power of his words and his touch, shuddered in pleasure that he would have mastery enough to make her come while she slept. She had no doubt he could do it.
His teeth grazed a sensitive part of her neck, just under her earlobe, and her fingers tightened on his shoulders where she gripped him. He pulled her head back, exposing the long column of her throat, and nibbled his way from her earlobe to her collarbone.
Her breath came faster now and her knees were growing weak. Her body had primed itself for him in every way possible—her nipples going tight and hard and her sex becoming slick. Between her legs, he stroked her again, dragging his fingers over her heated flesh and slowly and carefully driving her insane.
He drew her back toward the couch, pulling her shirt over her head and throwing it to the floor. She wore no bra and his gaze skated over her bare breasts with heated interest. She gave him her own interested perusal, over his tights abs, the wide, muscular expanse of his chest, and his broad shoulders. Then she reached out and undid the button of his pants, wanting to once again see his beautiful long, wide cock. Maybe this time she’d even get to touch it.
His hand covered hers and gently pulled it away. “All in good time. It’s my turn first.” Then he pushed her back down onto the couch. Off came her pants and he knelt between her spread legs, his gaze touching her bared sex as surely as his hand had done only a moment before.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. Then he dipped his head and tasted her.
Her back arched as his hot mouth closed over her, tongue dragging over her folds. Eyes closed, he made a sound of ecstasy as he explored her. His tongue found her pouting clit and bathed it. He could probably feel it grow against his tongue as she became almost unbearably excited.
She squirmed under his mouth, watching his dark head move between her thighs. It was almost too much. She almost wanted to get away from the intensity of it. Her breath hitched and her nipples went hard as diamonds from the lust cruising through her veins. He didn’t let her. With a small sound in his throat, he clamped his hands down on her inner thighs, holding her down and spread to him. His tongue aggressively lapped at her clit, practically forcing her to come.
Her body tensed and then exploded. This was no slow, torturous buildup and retreat, buildup and retreat. This time he brought her to climax fast and hard with his mouth. It wasn’t a wave this time, it was a freight train. Her spine arched and she cried out, her body shuddering. Gabriel had the ability to completely override her brain with his touch. It was wonderful and frightening at the same time. All she could do was hold on and ride the power of it.
Before the ripples of pleasure completely ebbed, he pulled her to the thick carpet on the floor, pushed her to lie on her stomach. Bracing himself with a hand on the floor to either side of her waist, he half covered her back.
She heard the blessed sound of a zipper and the rustle of his jeans being pulled down enough for him to get his cock out. Sliding a hand beneath her pelvis, he yanked her hips up, fitting her against his midsection where she could feel the jut of his cock against her aching sex. The smooth head of his shaft slipped just into her entrance and she whimpered, going up on her hands and knees and pushing back against him, desperate for more of him.
He gave it to her. Thrusting his hips, he pushed inside her to the root of him. She was so wet from the climax he’d given her that he slid deep inside without any pain, despite his large size. Her back arched at the sensation of him filling her, stretching her muscles and overwhelming her.
He stayed that way for a moment, sunk deep into the heart of her, and groaned. He murmured her name, told her how she felt around his cock—hot, silky, and perfect. Then he began to move and she couldn’t hear anything else he said. Her world became Gabriel thrusting inside her.
There was something animalistic and primal about the way he took her and it pushed every button she had. He pushed inside her to the hilt, withdrew and plunged within again, pulling a raw sound from her throat. Over and over. Harder and faster.
She braced her hands flat on the floor and wished for something to grip. Instead she curled her fingers into the thick carpeting. He drew his hand around to her front, between her thighs, and stroked her clit. Softly, he pushed it past that sensitive point of postclimax and straight back to swollen, aching need.
This was not a gentle lovemaking. He took from her, demanded of her, pushed her.
His body rocked against hers, completely dominating her. He shifted his angle and the head of his cock rubbed her G-spot on every inward thrust. She came again, this time more powerfully. Racking spasms of pleasure poured through her. Her muscles rippled and pulsed around his shaft and her body went limp. She collapsed to her stomach on the carpet and he came with her, still thrusting inside her. Behind her he groaned her name and she felt his cock jump.
He stilled, then rolled to the side, into the curve of her body. “I’m sorry,” he breathed into her hair.
She forced her eyes open and her breathing to calm a bit. Gentle waves of residual orgasm still flirted with her body and made her sex tingle and pulse. “For what?”
“I had no control. I just needed you. I needed to fuck you. It was fast and hard, not gentle the way I intended.”
She gave a low, throaty laugh of total sexual lethargy. “I think I like fast and hard.”
“Good to know,” he murmured, brushing her hair to the side and kissing her earlobe. He dipped his hand to her breast and toyed with her nipple, brushing it back and forth until it went hard and she shivered. “Very good to know, in fact.”
“So, do you use magick when you make love or is the . . . goodness . . . just your innate incubusness?”
He gave a deep laugh and drew his hand down between her legs, where he stroked her gently and made her sigh. “Neither. My ‘goodness’ comes from age and experience, from learning a woman’s body and paying attention to where she likes to be touched, just how hard and just how fast.” His voice was a low silken rasp against her earlobe and his hand was weaving magick on her body no matter what he might say.
“Oh,” she managed, even though her tongue had gone dry.
“The fact that I’m incubus registers with women, though; you’ve seen that. Women are naturally drawn to me. Well, most all of them. You were a notable exception.”
“And the magick?”
“Mostly it’s a myth. I can’t sexually enslave anyone, Aislinn. I can only mildly addict them when I try, which I never do. It makes them needy and clingy. You don’t have to fear me.”
She realized with a jolt that she didn’t. Never had. She had believed the stories of death-by-sex to be true and she’d never once even thought of the possibility he might use it on her.
Simply, she’d trusted him not to do it.
His fingers still played over her sex. She rested her head back against him and sighed. “What are you doing to me?”
He nuzzled her earlobe. “Going for number three.”
She had no complaints.
After h
e’d brought her to a third orgasm, this one softer and easier than the others, there in his arms on the floor, she stared up at the ceiling and marveled at her body and at Gabriel. She’d had two climaxes while making love before, but never three, and she still felt ripe, lush, and aroused—ready for more. Gabriel could do amazing things to a woman’s body and she suspected that—if she wasn’t careful—he might be able to do amazing things to her heart as well.
It was dumb even to be thinking about that, since their futures looked bleak. Yet, she couldn’t help but warn herself not to fall in too deep with Gabriel, a man who wasn’t meant for just one woman. A man who’d lied to her for the first week she’d known him, who had deliberately tried to lure her from her home under false pretenses. Even though he’d saved her life in the aftermath, it didn’t change the events of that first week. She needed to protect herself.
If they survived what was to come—and she had every intention of doing just that—and they got past all of this, if they went back to their lives, well, then Gabriel would surely break her heart.
The solution was simple, yet so very hard—she had to avoid giving her love to him. If she did, she was doomed.
EIGHTEEN
THE image of Aislinn’s father wavered in front of them for a moment and then solidified. The cord that attached him to the Netherworld shimmered in a riot of rainbow colors. Souls, as near as Gabriel could determine, were the basic, primal energy of the fae they had been while inhabiting a physical body. He didn’t believe they existed in this form in the Netherworld. Gabriel believed they took the form of raw energy, in a sort of collective mass, awaiting rebirth.
Gabriel, like most fae, believed that life was a continuous circle. Without beginning and without end. All things died. All things passed away, but that didn’t mean they passed out of being. All that passed away into the Netherworld eventually returned when its season came. Albeit in a new form.
Of course, he didn’t know for certain. No one knew but the souls and they wouldn’t talk about it. Anytime he’d asked, some force prevented them from revealing the truth, making their words come out soundless. Not even a necromancer could command information of that nature from them.
But now the energy that had formerly been Aislinn’s father wavered in front of them, having taken the form that either they—Gabriel and Aislinn—most expected him to take. Or perhaps it was the form that Aislinn’s father most associated with himself. No one knew.
A small noise escaped Aislinn. “Papa.”
The word was broken and filled with longing. It made pain twist in Gabriel’s stomach. Gods above, he’d never cared for a woman as much as he cared for this one.
Hells, he’d never cared for anyone more than he cared for her. It was beautiful and scared him shitless all in one go.
Her father’s face softened. “I miss you, my daughter.”
“But I’m not your daughter.” She shook her head, her fists clenched in her lap. Her voice sounded accusing. “I’m not your biological daughter, am I, Papa?”
His face fell. “So, you know the truth. I had hoped to spare you from it. No, you were not my biological daughter.” His voice sounded far away. “You were the child of my heart, a bond stronger than any genetic link.”
Aislinn ducked her head and blinked rapidly. Gabriel’s fingers curled as if to pull her close to his body, to comfort and protect her. He looked down at his hands, marveling at the impulse.
“You know you’re not my biological daughter because you can do this.” He encompassed his body with a sweep of his hand. “You are a necromancer and that ability doesn’t come from my blood or your mother’s blood.”
“Did you know Mama had an affair?”
Her father nodded. “We’d had an argument the night it happened and she’d thrown her engagement ring at me. I took it and yelled that I was happy our engagement was off and would gladly accept the ring back. She ran off into the square crying. According to her, she was approached by a dark fae. To spite me, she let him seduce her. That was the night you were conceived. I loved your mother very much, Aislinn. We got back together, repaired the engagement. We never dreamed she’d conceived a child, since it was so against the odds.” He smiled. “But she had. I embraced you and accepted you as my own from the day we first discovered she was pregnant.”
“That dark fae was the Shadow King, Papa.”
He jerked a little in surprise. “The Shadow King. Well, that explains the necromancy.”
“Is that all you have to say? I’m Unseelie,” Aislinn breathed. “The bastard daughter of the king of them all!”
He smiled. “And look how beautifully you turned out.”
Gabriel’s opinion of Aislinn’s father rose into the stratosphere. He displayed none of the snobbery that was so common among the Seelie toward the Unseelie. He just loved his daughter, no matter what.
Aislinn shook her head. “So you hid the information from me and from the Seelie Court.”
His smile faded. “It was the best way we knew to keep you safe.”
“But you weren’t safe, Papa, were you? Who killed you?”
His ethereal face grew ashen. “The Phaendir had me killed in the square.”
Aislinn dropped her head and a teardrop splashed into her lap.
“They killed you for the Book of Bindings, didn’t they?” asked Gabriel.
His gaze never wavered from Aislinn. “I know you found the book because you summoned me with the spell in your apartment. I saw the book fall from your lap onto the floor. I had hoped you’d never find it, but it seems all the danger I ever wanted to help you avoid you’ve managed to find.”
“I did find it,” answered Aislinn. All the shakiness was out of her voice now and it was clear and strong. “It was under the floorboards in your bedroom, Papa. How did you get that book?”
“It was handed down in my family. I don’t know how we first came to have it, but my father managed to bring it with him when he was forced into Piefferburg. He handed it down to me to keep and impressed upon me how critical it was. I never let anyone know about it. I assume the Phaendir must have tracked the book into my Seelie lineage, however we gained possession of it, and followed the trail. They contacted me, demanding the book. When I failed to produce it, they killed me, thinking they could find it on their own. You found it first.” He paused. “Get rid of it, Aislinn. Burn it. Do whatever you need to; just make sure the Phaendir never get it.”
“The Shadow King has it now, Papa.”
“How did he get it?”
Aislinn looked a hundred years older than she was for a moment. “Never mind that. It’s a long story and it’s not your concern.”
“But—”
“I’m watching over your daughter,” Gabriel interrupted. “She’ll stay safe; I swear it on my soul.” His words were strong and fierce and he felt them all the way through his body. Aislinn’s face whipped toward him while he spoke, her lips parted slightly and her eyes wide.
Aislinn’s father regarded him in silence for a long moment. “I believe that.”
“As you should.”
Her father strained as if listening to something far away that neither he nor Aislinn could hear. “I’m being called back, Aislinn.”
She nodded and wiped at a tear track on her face. “May I hug you before you leave?”
“You must command me to take a corporeal shape. I can’t do it on my own.”
She did and he solidified. Aislinn rose and hugged her father, but he disappeared a few moments into their tender embrace, leaving Aislinn to stagger forward and then bring her hands up to cover her face. Gabriel stood and went to her, pulling her against his body.
She melted against him for only a moment and then pushed away. “Okay, what now?”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard and cleared her throat—clearly trying not to break down. “I miss him.”
He nodded. “I understand. I’ve escorted people I care about to the o
ther side before. It’s a”—he searched for the right words—“bittersweet honor.”
“I was much closer to my father than to my mother.”
“I gathered that.”
“But my father is gone now and I learned a while back to deal with the grief. Anyway, I just received a huge gift. Not many people get to see their loved ones after they’re gone. I feel grateful for this.” She wiped away the last of the tears on her cheeks and looked up at him, her gray eyes turning the color of gunmetal. “Now, what’s next?”
He considered her for a long moment. “The scary stuff is next, Aislinn. We’re done with friends and family. Now we need to find weapons. Make a plan. Now we need to call the sluagh and you need to make them obey your will.”
Her expression hardened. “Now it’s time to attack dear old dad.”
THE lights went off that evening. They’d been eating a dinner of salmon and roasted vegetables when their current living—or squatting—space was plunged into darkness.
“Piefferburg Electricity finally got around to shutting everything off.” Gabriel laid his fork to the side of his plate. She could just make out his actions by the light of the moon spilling in through the window. “Damn.”
“It was nice while we had it.”
“I’ll get some candles.” Gabriel got up.
She sat, the reflection in the window showing candles flare up one by one in the living room behind her. When Gabriel didn’t return, she cleaned up the table and walked in to meet him, leaning up against the archway separating the rooms.
He sat on the couch, one arm draped over an armrest. His dark hair hung long and loose around his shoulders and his chest was bare. The candlelight licked his skin the way she wanted to every time she saw him . . . especially when he had his shirt off.
“You didn’t eat much.” She swallowed against the dry throat that always accompanied her view of his bare skin. When he didn’t answer, she asked, “What are you doing?”
Shadows moved over his face and caught in his hair. “Thinking.”
