by Caris Roane
“You’re very quiet and you’ve been stirring a mug of coffee I happen to know has no sugar or milk in it.”
Even her voice worked over his body as though every part of her was designed to torment him. “Yeah,” he responded. “Just cooling it off.” A lie. He just didn’t know how to turn back to her without picking her up in his arms and carting her off to his bed. Like now.
“I’m smelling spice, lots of spice, sweet exotic Moroccan spice.”
He still didn’t turn around. He nodded and kept stirring.
“Did I do something wrong? I mean, I know I have a lot to learn. Do you think I offended Havily? Do you think talking about White Lake upset her?”
He let go of the spoon and the mug and turned to face her. “No, not at all. Havily looks delicate but she’s tough as nails, and no, you didn’t offend her.” He returned to the stool he’d inhabited earlier.
“So I didn’t do anything wrong?”
He refused to meet her gaze as he said, “Actually, you’ve done everything wrong. You’ve been kind and generous, tender, concerned. Shit, this has become a fucking nightmare. I don’t want to do this, you know. From the first moment I saw you, I knew I was in trouble, and the longer I’m with you the worse it gets. I took vows, Alison. I won’t go back on them.”
* * *
Alison saw the set of his jaw and the way his green eyes darkened and shifted over the granite, his gaze hunting for a place to land. His fangs would emerge next because the room was so rich with his scent, she was sure if she took a deep enough breath she could taste it on her tongue.
She saw his struggle, and she appreciated he’d taken some kind of vow, which was now directed against her, yet in this moment everything shifted for her.
The past caught up: how he’d protected her from the death vamp at the medical complex, the kiss in her Nova, how she’d awakened to his fangs on her neck and let him drink, how he’d used his hand to give her such wonderful release, how she had only to look at him and desire tightened her internal muscles and sent shivers over her skin.
She touched her fingers to her neck. From his peripheral vision he must have seen the movement because he turned and his gaze followed. He growled softly and his eyelids fell to half-mast. She couldn’t feel the puncture marks, but she remembered the sublime sensation.
She didn’t fully understand what was happening between them. Part of it made no sense. He had lived for centuries, he had fought as a warrior for over a millennia. He had transformed into a vampire when he ascended. She, on the other hand, had grown up in her cloistered world, protecting everyone else from her powers. Though she’d gotten a master’s degree and had set up a practice, she had lived a bare thirty-plus years of an isolated life, of tight self-command and no relationships to speak of except with her family. How did being with an ancient winged vampire warrior therefore make any kind of sense?
She moved to stand next to him. The height of the stool allowed her to meet his gaze straight-on. His lips parted and his nostrils flared. His scent tormented her. She could barely draw breath.
She put her hand on his bicep, savoring the feel, as she had before, of the sculpted muscle. When she shifted to look at him, her gaze fell to his mouth. He had the most sensual lips she had ever seen, and she already knew exactly what they felt like. The tips of his fangs showed again. This time, instead of being afraid or overwhelmed as she had been in the car, and because he’d already taken her blood, desire flowed. The same growl, throaty and possessive, rumbled in his throat.
You’re throwing lavender, he sent.
That sound you’re making is getting to me.
Good.
He growled a little more, only louder this time. The vibration hit her chest and shivers slid down her abdomen.
I want in, she sent.
Funny how she knew he meant her mind. While he remained seated, she drew a little closer to him. He moved his right leg wider. He slid his arm around the small of her back and pulled her deeper between his legs. She put her hands on his shoulders then opened wide, letting down all her mental shields.
He held her gaze and dipped heavily into her mind, an experience well beyond simple telepathy. He was inside her head, deep inside her head. She gasped. It was like being surrounded, comforted, and taken all at once by an enormous wave of warm tropical waters. Pleasure cascaded through her body all over again. He growled as he swam through her thoughts and memories.
To be possessed in this way, his mind penetrating hers, moving over her, was a sensation she had never imagined before, yet it made sense. If telepathic communication was possible, why not this kind of deep penetration, even possession, of the mind?
She opened her mouth to breathe better and he took the opportunity to pull her against him fully and kiss her, his sensual lips warm and soft against her mouth. He drove his tongue deep, all the while remaining inside her mind. She moaned as his tongue pleasured and teased the sensitive recesses of her mouth.
Yes, she could really be with this man. It scared her yet it explained so much, the how and why of everything. Now she understood. What she needed was a powerful warrior, even a vampire, who could command her mouth while he moved an ocean around in her mind, who apparently didn’t get blasted against a wall when she orgasmed.
A little more of her tightly held self gave way.
Kerrick, I want you inside me. We have some time, don’t we?
He shifted, slid off the stool, and gathered her into his arms, his lips still molded to her mouth, his tongue thrusting hard.
His presence in her mind worked her body into a sudden outrageous frenzy. Her muscles ached everywhere. She drove her hands into his hair, her fingers tingling from the sensation.
Your thoughts are so beautiful, Alison. I love being in here. I want to stay forever but I can’t. Tell me you understand.
I do. You’ve lost too much, haven’t you?
Yes.
Kerrick, please take me.
Are you sure? Even if this is temporary?
Yes.
He caught her buttocks with one hand and pressed her against him. She writhed against the hard ridge of his sex. A long string of moans left her throat, the sound trumped by a powerful growl that passed from his chest to hers and reverberated like a steadily blowing breeze.
This wouldn’t take long. This would be quick, hard, and fast. She wanted nothing more. She began tugging his shirt out of his jeans. His hands slid under her top and all her movement stilled as he found her breasts, then with one large hand fondled them both at the same time.
Kerrick … so good.
Yes.
His kiss deepened and the pressure on her nipples reached a place of pleasurable pain, which buckled her knees. He caught her waist with his free arm and held her close.
He lifted her up and planted her on the granite. He spread her legs and moved between them, reestablishing the connection. “Pants off,” she whispered as she dragged a breath into her lungs.
“So impatient,” he murmured. He pushed her onto the granite until she lay flat against the cool stone, one hand still kneading her breasts. She closed her eyes and let go of the burning need to having him inside her. Clearly he had other plans and as he stripped her pants off her, then her thong, she let go of a long lusty cry.
I’m here, he whispered deep in her mind, a sensation that sent ripples of desire … everywhere.
I love you in my head.
He growled then kissed her breasts, the fabric shoved up high, the bra as well. He suckled. Oh, how he suckled. She writhed against the granite, her body on fire, the cool stone below, his callused warrior hands working over her thighs, her abdomen, her ribs, her shoulders. One finger found her mouth and she took him inside and sucked hard.
He nipped at her breast then pulled hard.
She arched off the granite and because he was present in her mind she almost came. Kerrick … No words followed, just a series of whimpers as he released her breast and started a burning trail
of kisses down her body. Her skin and muscles jumped, her hips rocked. He kept moving down and down. He drew his finger from her mouth and grabbed her waist with both hands. He pushed her farther up the granite until her feet found purchase and almost at the same moment, his lips met the soft curls then the flesh of her labia. He nuzzled and kissed, nipped and sucked, all in tender little flurries. Yet he avoided reaching the sweet spot.
She moaned and her fingers found his hair, digging deep and guiding.
So impatient, he sent.
Kerrick. Such torture. Oh, your mind inside me … your lips … oh, God, your tongue. He pressed her apart and blew a stream of air over her until tears tracked down her cheeks.
Please.
Please, what?
Lick me.
He obeyed the command and raked his tongue in one long sweep up her aching flesh. She cried out. He licked again. Her hands became reckless over his long hair, diving, tugging, as her hips rocked hard into his face. He settled in and licked in quick purposeful swipes.
Her cries echoed around the kitchen.
Come for me, Alison. Let it all go.
Power gathered. She could feel it. It’s coming. She tried to warn him, but her thoughts were scrambled, her mind fixed on the intense pleasure, building, building.
Let it come. I’m ready.
His deep voice, so present inside her head, his mind still connected to hers, made her come apart, pleasure streaking over her sensitive flesh as her internal muscles pulsed over and over. She cried out again and again. Power gathered and released from her abdomen, pushing him away, but he only laughed and returned to tending to her with his tongue. He kept the sensations rolling again and again, spinning out another orgasm then another, until she lay slack against the granite.
Her hands fell away from his head. He didn’t rise. Instead his tongue stroked the insides of her thighs. He kissed his way to her opening. “Lavender,” he breathed against her core. “I must taste it.” With his hands on her waist, he dragged her to the edge of the island this time so he could reach her in just the way he wanted. Her legs lay over his back. He was so powerful. Her mind felt heavy and decadent with the weight of his mind in her. His thoughts expressed his intense pleasure, which fired her own.
His tongue stroked over her opening in heavy laps, taking the nectar into his mouth. She cried out as new pleasure began to build, the walls of her core pulling at him as he licked into her.
You’re so beautiful, he laid over her mind.
Kerrick was all she could manage.
The strokes went deeper each time until his tongue worked her in a strong steady purposeful rhythm. He grunted, his hands on her buttocks now, his thumbs pressed into her hips. He pulled her toward him with each thrust of his tongue. She’d never been taken like this before. She’d never dared let a man get so close. She felt her power gathering again, as well as the grip of another orgasm.
This one barreled down, the power releasing. When she came and the power hit, he held her firmly in order to sustain the fast driving rhythm of his tongue. She came over and over as he possessed her with his mouth. He was pushing hard into her, determined. She felt blissfully used as another wave of power and another orgasm hit her. She screamed and gripped his head, holding him against her.
She panted.
Slowly, he decreased the speed.
Her own pulses faded in strength and intensity until once more she released his head and fell against the granite.
She was breathing hard, struggling to catch her breath. “That was amazing.”
You’re amazing. His deep voice flowed within her head, still joined heavily in her mind, possessively. She lifted up on her elbows to look at him. He cradled her, his arms beneath her knees. He placed kisses over her blond triangle of hair, her thighs, her abdomen.
“Take me,” she whispered. “I need you inside me.” Tears threatened. She was overcome by a strange combination of intense satisfaction and burning need to be joined to him, a great paradox.
He shook his head, the expression in his eyes pained. In a slow movement within her mind, he began to withdraw. She held him fast with a thought, Stop. Don’t go. Don’t leave yet. I want you … now. And I love that you’re here in my mind with me.
He withdrew anyway, leaving her dizzy and strangely bereft, close to tears as, with a final jerk, his mind separated from hers.
He smiled crookedly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t have a choice. My fucking phone has been buzzing for the last ten minutes. Given our circumstances, I have to take this call, and I already know it’s Thorne and it won’t be good.”
She folded her hands over her stomach and stared up at the ceiling. Her breath hitched a couple of times. She felt fabric fall onto her hips. Oh. He had bent down to retrieve her pants. However, she didn’t move to put anything on. She hoped maybe he was mistaken and with just a little effort, he could still complete what they’d started.
“Give,” he barked.
After a good long minute, he thumbed his phone, then a long curse, impossibly joined together, left his mouth. “Goddamsonofabitchmother…”
He slipped his phone into the pocket of his jeans. He turned to face her.
She had seen that look before, when he’d told her to fold them both to her Hummer.
She sat up, pulling her bra and shirt down. “We’re in danger, aren’t we? Is the house surrounded again?”
She started to unravel her rolled-up thong, but he caught her hands.
He shook his head. “We’re not in any immediate danger. I’m sorry, Alison. I’ve just had word from Thorne. I’ve been ordered to train you for battle. Tonight. And it’s going to hurt like hell.”
* * *
Marcus woke up slowly. He was curled up on one of the ratty leather barges, facing the back cushions. As sleep went, not bad. He’d been asleep for hours and had an erection that he was just about to shift around and make more comfortable when he realized he wasn’t alone. He reached out with his senses and felt the presence of six large pissed-off warriors, not a difficult deduction when there was a taint to the air, like someone had lit a box of matches.
“Looks like Sleeping Beauty is never going to wake up. Aw. He must have had a hard night of fighting. He’s not used to the sword and dagger. Pobrecito … we should just let him sleep.” Santiago, the bastard. Marcus lifted a hand and expressed his feelings with his middle finger.
“You were so wrong,” Zach said. “Looks like Sleeping Beauty is up after all.”
Marcus felt his wing-locks thrum and his biceps flex. As his cock settled down, his aggression wound up. He smiled, rolled over, then sat up. “So what the fuck do you assholes want?”
When Zacharius went for him, Marcus jumped to his feet, but Thorne moved like lightning and slid between them.
“Settle down, boys. Don’t waste all this precious juice on each other.” He turned to Marcus and shoved him back. “You can go to my digs, shave and shower. Don’t even think about folding back to Mortal Earth. Endelle would have me by the short hairs if you left Second, even to freshen up. She wants everyone tight.
“Kerrick has ascendiate duty until tomorrow night, at which time we expect all hell to break loose when Her Supremeness releases her mind-shield. And if you think Greaves won’t have something spectacular planned while we wait, you’re wrong.” He then delivered the assignments. “Luken to New River. Santiago, White Tanks. Zach take Awatukee. Jean-Pierre, you’ll be with me in the Superstitions, and Medichi, I want you with Sleeping Beauty downtown.”
“Fuck that,” Medichi said. “Can’t someone else babysit?”
Thorne got in his face, tight, hard. “You’ll do as I say.”
Marcus felt the heat off Thorne’s back. After a long tense moment, Medichi murmured, “Whatever you say, boss.”
Marcus scoffed, just a little snort off his left nostril. He only realized he’d fucked up when Thorne’s fist landed on his face and broke his nose. Goddamn, he didn’t even see Thorne move.
Blood poured down his face. Thorne bent over him and grabbed the hair at the top of his head. “That’s for taking off for two fucking centuries, you worthless piece of shit.”
Thorne pulled back, cradling his hand in the crook of his arm. Bending over at the waist, with his free hand he dipped into the deep pocket of his kilt then palmed his phone. After a moment, he said, “Yeah, Horace. I need you at the Cave. One of the warriors walked into a door.” He grimaced as he put his phone back in his pocket.
“Fuck you,” Marcus cried. Rage pounded through him now, a series of heavy waves pulsing against the inside of his skull. “I never asked to come back. I never would have come back.” He pulled up his tee and caught the blood flowing over his mouth.
Thorne stood over him, his hazel eyes red-rimmed, his mouth grim. “You’re not welcome here. Unfortunately, I have my orders just like you. I serve Endelle and will do whatever she asks of me, but I don’t have to fucking like it. And while you’re here, you’ll respect the warriors who have fought on while you were playing with your balls on Mortal Earth.” He put his hand on Marcus’s forehead then relayed the location of his home. “Go there now, before I really lose my temper. I’ll send Horace to you after he repairs the bones I just broke in my hand.”
Marcus didn’t wait. He felt like twelve kinds of shit. Thorne was right. He shouldn’t have left all those decades ago, yet if he’d stayed, he would have killed Kerrick. Those weren’t just words he’d said. The fury he had experienced when his sister and her kids died had demanded only one outlet—Kerrick’s blood—so he had left, without a word, without a good-bye to any of his brothers, only a message via Jeannie that he had exiled himself to Mortal Earth. The only conversation he’d had was with Endelle, a promise that if she ever truly needed him he’d come back—though only once, as a favor. So here the fuck he was and he hated every goddamn minute of it.
He dematerialized into the foyer of Thorne’s house, his shirt still pressed to his nose. He felt cool Mexican tile under his bare feet. The house had a warm feel and one helluva view of the Sedona cliffs, the massive two-thousand-foot Mogollon Rim.
