by Anh Leod
She placed her hand atop his then slowly moved it down her face, to her neck, then down her bare sternum to her breast. “We might not have much time. Cherokee—”
He squeezed gently until she felt her nipple harden, then his hand lowered until he was at the first button of her sweater. She lost her words. He separated the buttons from the cashmere, then pushed it down from her shoulders and tossed it onto a box.
Holly reached under her dress and pulled down her thong, then stepped out of it and tossed it on her sweater.
“Please, take everything off,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I want to see your flesh.”
The halter dress she wore had a built-in, shelf bra, so it was the only item of clothing she still wore. When it was gone, she would be down to her earrings. She reached to her side and slipped down the zipper. After one last glance at his intense dark eyes, she pulled the dress over her head.
“Shoes?” she asked. Even in her aroused state, she looked lovingly at her feet, clad in tortoise shell and gold Gucci sandals. They had cost far more than one weekend of extra work for Brandi but they were glorious and went perfectly with her coloring.
“Leave them.”
She grinned and did a seductive catwalk dance around him, twisting her hips and high stepping. In these shoes, she was nearly model tall. His eyes seemed to flare at the sight when she did a little turn flourish and stopped directly in front of him.
“Just the sight of you makes me wet,” she whispered. She reached under the jacket and felt for the top of his trousers. His cock strained the fabric.
He tilted his head and nibbled at the column of her neck.
“You must have liked my dance.” She felt glorious and feminine as she undid his pants then unbuttoned his jacket. She pushed it down his shoulders and it dropped on top of the boxes with her dress.
His mouth slid to her chin then took possession of her lips.
“I can’t,” she said into his mouth. “I need—” She broke away as her questing fingers touched his hip.
“But I want,” he responded. “I need.”
“I know. Soon.”
His briefs were still in the way, so she knelt, pulled them down and before he could protest, took him into her mouth.
He tasted amazing. Sweet somehow, with a hint of magic. His cock swelled in her mouth as she swirled around him. Beads of moisture dripped down the back of her throat, as tart and sweet as summer blackberries.
Glaukos twisted his hand into her hair and pulled her head back up to meet his. “You can’t make me spend yet.”
He slanted his mouth against hers, ruthlessly taking control. His tongue swept in. Holly grabbed at his biceps to stay upright. Her pussy clenched and creamed as his tongue slid along hers in dirty ways.
He grunted and pulled away. “I want to be inside you. Come.”
She felt a little shaky on her tall heels so she put her arms around his neck. He put his hands under her butt and pulled her up his length until she found his cock and angled it between her folds into her sweet spot.
She slid down him easily, feeling the beginnings of an orgasm shake her body even with this first stroke. Her little dance had excited her almost as much as the taste of him in her mouth, of his mouth against hers. Glaukos held her tightly and moved her up and down. Her thighs held his, her legs locked around him. He tipped against the wall and used it for support so his hips could work.
He stroked inside her endlessly until she remembered his stamina of the night before and the fact that he had a battle ahead of him if a sneak attack didn’t work. She wanted him to win as much as she wanted him to keep fucking her so gloriously.
Her butt clenched and her hips tilted so her clit was fully engaged with each stroke. She reached around his muscled hip and toyed with the flesh of his firm ass until she came to his tight hole. She’d heard that putting a finger inside gave a man pleasure. Would it speed up the proceedings? She raised her finger to her lips and licked it before returning it to his ass.
His cheeks clenched as her finger circled his pucker with a light touch. He thrust so hard that she had to hold herself to him, one arm around his neck and one around his hip, to stay tight against him.
“Oh yes, that,” she gasped.
He moved again, so deep it nearly hurt. Every nerve ending she had was aflame and she knew she was already lost. She threw back her head, arched her back and let her body take flight.
“Yes, come for me, my rodi,” Glaukos crooned. “You’re so beautiful.”
Her breath was harsh in her ears as she came down from her summit. It was ironic that a denizen of the Underworld could make her body soar so high. She tucked her head into his shoulder, using every liquid muscle to keep herself aligned with his body as he continued to thrust.
He was a dream in this dusty room, the only light drifting in beams around the door, which they had neglected to shut entirely. She wanted this moment to go on forever but she knew it couldn’t. As her energy returned, she began to apply herself to the dance again, moving her hips in tandem with his.
He was gasping now, biting out words of affection and praise. She could feel sweat on his back and knew he was close. Would he take her with him again? She tightened her inner walls around him, knowing it would excite them both.
Then he stopped moving. She relaxed her body, wondering if it was possible to squeeze too tightly.
“What’s wrong?”
He turned so her back was against the wall then pulled out of her. She wriggled, thinking he was going to pound into her and drive them both off the cliff into paradise, but he didn’t reenter. The next thing she knew, her more than four-inch-high stilettos were back on the floor, barely supporting her shaking body, and he was pulling up his briefs and pants.
“What?” she repeated, dizzy with lust.
“Torc,” he rasped. “Cherokee is calling me.”
“But you didn’t come,” she said, frustrated. In her passion-dazed mind, that was all that mattered.
“No time. I have to take care of this. After, we’ll finish. I promise.”
That didn’t sound right but she was still out of it, craving another orgasm above all else. How did he find the control to stop?
“Go find your friends,” he ordered. “Stay safe.”
The door creaked when he pulled it open. He moved stealthily into the hall. With the door wide, the room lightened and now she could hear the band playing a Duran Duran cover. She felt as undone as Simon LeBon did in the song.
Turning on shaky legs, she saw his jacket, or rather Cherokee’s jacket. An expensive coat and it was cold outside. She grabbed it and dashed after him.
“Your coat,” she cried then saw him go through another shadowy door on the opposite end of the hall behind the stage.
She trotted after him and it wasn’t until she was through the door that she realized she was nude except her shoes and earrings. Swearing, she tucked her arms into the coat and buttoned it around herself. She came to the end of this second hallway just as Glaukos vanished through the door and it creaked shut behind him.
Was it warmer here? She pushed her sweaty hair out of her eyes. Sconces flared unnervingly to life above her head, little triangles of dancing red and gold, like flames. She didn’t want to be alone here anymore. The sconces must be on some kind of motion sensor and she was the third person to go this way. Wouldn’t Torc be forewarned? At least it was two against one. She reached for the door and went after Glaukos, but silently, walking on the pads of her feet, her stilettos off the floor so they couldn’t click. Not that it probably mattered.
The next hallway curved to the left, toward the street-side of the building. Sconces flared to life again as she entered that hallway. She had a thought. Is the light just for mortals or did they flare for Glaukos too? Once again, heat seemed to radiate from the ceiling, which she couldn’t quite see despite the light. How high was it? She felt sweat bead under her breasts. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea but when she turned she
couldn’t see the far end of the hallway where she’d just entered. Was it safer to continue? Dylan had said an outcast like Torc wouldn’t have powers, but how would he know? He’d always been grounded in everyday reality. She was the one with her head in fantasy novels, and later, really erotic fantasy novels. Last night, she’d even felt as though she were living in one. She had a better idea than Dylan of how crazy things could get. Scenarios fixed in her mind. Sword and sorcery stuff. Men turning into dragons. Women with multiple heads.
What she wouldn’t give to be back in that storeroom having hot sex with Glaukos right now. All she could do was follow him.
Another door, another hallway. The temperature had to be at least ninety degrees now and the heavy coat hung limply from her body. Glaukos wouldn’t need it here. She found herself longing for a bottle of water. Another door was soon in front of her and the knob burned her hand when she reached for it. She pulled it back and sucked on her fingers. When the immediate ache had subsided, she pulled down the sleeve of the jacket and turned the knob again. It had come in handy after all.
Now the space had widened. She was in an anteroom of some kind. Sconces flared as before, the heat rising another five degrees. She heard a scraping sound behind the door ahead of her. Surely that was the office. Did she dare risk getting mixed up in a battle? But Glaukos had the element of surprise and both he and Torc might already have vanished before she opened the door. Had Cherokee gone with them?
She had to know and crept forward. The red carpet under her heels muffled her steps. Tapestries of violent, bloody scenes hung on either side of the door, blocking noise from coming through the wall. She searched the pockets of Cherokee’s coat for a knife or pen. Nothing. A look around the room offered no assistance though she saw there was no door behind her now, only ahead. With the thought that she could use her shoes as weapons, she pulled them off her feet and held them in one hand, spikes forward. She pulled her sleeve over her other hand again and, staying to one side, timidly opened the door. Into hell.
She vaguely remembered Torc from the Rotten Tomatoes show on Halloween but he wasn’t twelve feet tall then. His eyes were still surrounded by what looked like glitter, but his fingernails were now talons. Her heart paused for a beat then sped up as adrenalin hit her. Obviously, Glaukos hadn’t surprised him. And even more obviously, some outcasts had some pretty extraordinary powers.
But Glaukos was only human, or more or less human. How she wished she had a gun or other weapon to throw to him. How she wished she could flee but the door behind her had vanished like the others.
Man and giant circled around a large desk in the middle of the parquet-floored room, taking each other’s measure. She was glad they hadn’t noticed her. Yet.
“Acalle was nothing,” Torc sneered. “You still hold a grudge for a woman who has been dust for a thousand years?”
“The statute of limitations on murder never expires, even in this world,” Glaukos said. He was in a half-crouch, his hands open in front of him.
“You think my father will act against me?” Torc’s laugh was a nasty wheeze.
Glaukos bared his teeth. “I think you think that, or you’d come quietly.”
Torc laughed again, a giant’s boom. His double-sized teeth were big enough to rip off Holly’s arm. She huddled against the wall then turned long enough to tug a nearby chair in front of her. It wasn’t much armor, but it was something. Could she give Glaukos her shoes? Would they help?
Should she run for Cherokee? Why wasn’t he here too?
“I’m not a fan of the Underworld. My talents are better used here,” Torc said.
Talents for what? she wondered.
Faster than Holly could blink, Glaukos threw a letter opener from the desk into Torc’s chest and jumped onto the glass surface, nearly surfing across as he lunged for his enemy.
The letter opener hit Torc’s chest and bounced off a Rotten Tomatoes fan button on his severely stretched T-shirt.
In another faster-than-vision motion, Glaukos had a stapler in his hand and tossed it into Torc’s face. It hit the giant’s nose and Holly saw blood blossom from the hit.
She squeaked then clapped her hands over her mouth. Torc turned to face her. She shoved the chair toward him and tapped him in the knees. His focus left her lover for a critical instant and Glaukos was on him.
Behind her, Holly heard loud popping noises sequencing like fireworks. Glaukos got in a roundhouse punch before Torc pushed him off.
Sconces on the wall flared red and popped, sending fingers of flame toward the ceiling. Long velvet curtains on the bar side wall caught fire.
Nearly blind with fear, Holly held up her shoes, ready to fight. Glaukos dived at Torc, who twisted. His enormous knee collapsed and he hunkered down along a wall where fire was licking up a tapestry, disintegrating it.
Holly smelled smoke and heard running feet. She turned around to see a group of people, her friends, coming into doorway. It had reappeared.
“Fire in the club!” Greg yelled. He was in the lead.
“Run, Holly!” Glaukos called when he noticed her.
Torc laughed and pointed a talon at her. She threw a shoe. It glanced off his face, clawing a bloody furrow across one cheek. He howled and grabbed his face. His talons tore the skin around his mouth. Both Glaukos and Holly ran forward—him after Torc and her after her shoe. Just as she grabbed it, Glaukos took his gold medallion in one fist and reached for Torc on the floor. All he needed was a touch.
Greg reached Holly and pulled her to him. Glaukos positioned the medallion at his mouth, ready to bite.
In a wild gesture, Torc lashed out. The chain holding the medallion arced into the air, still around Glaukos’ neck but out of his hand. As Glaukos caught Torc around one meaty thigh, the talons found his neck, slashing neatly across.
Holly screamed. Blood flew from the arteries around Glaukos’ neck. Greg held her back as she tried to rush forward. Cherokee screamed a battle cry, pushed from behind Joe and ran toward his friend, a long steel baton in his hand.
Glaukos, with one last look at Holly, fell on Torc, square on his enormous chest. He slid sideways. Perhaps with his last strength, Glaukos swung the medallion to his mouth and bit. Sparks of gold flashed and an aura of pure gold flared through the room. When Holly could see again, Glaukos and Torc were gone.
“He’s dead,” she sobbed, putting her head against Greg’s shoulder.
“They went to Hades,” Cherokee corrected, his arms outstretched against the wall he’d slammed into. The baton hit the floor. “He’s been dead for millennia already.”
Holly heard a grinding noise. Doors began to whirl in and out of existence around the room. Some may have been hidden behind burning tapestries but she was sure many of them were now where blank walls had been before.
“Are we going to be able to get out?” She coughed.
Greg pulled off his t-shirt and held it to her mouth. She gulped at filtered air then thrust it back at him. It helped some, but not much. They needed to get out before the smoke got worse.
Cherokee put his hand into an open doorway that led to an open field full of wildflowers then nearly lost it when the door slammed. He swore then leapt catlike across the room to land at Joe’s side.
“Quick, give me your hat,” he ordered.
Joe coughed and spat then handed his pilgrim hat to Cherokee, who tossed it through the door that had just appeared in front of him.
It hit Claudia’s astonished face.
Chapter Four
“Now,” Cherokee cried, pulling Holly’s arm and tossing her through the open doorway to her friend. The two women collapsed on the floor together but Holly saw she was back in the red-carpeted anteroom. One step closer to freedom but the tapestries were on fire here too, the battle scenes on them seeming to come to life as the fabric waved and disintegrated.
A scream shrilled right behind them. Cherokee rushed out with Greg and Joe close behind. Holly rose to her knees as Claudia crawled ou
t from underneath her and turned toward the scream.
A tapestry had fallen on one of Greg’s companions. Holly couldn’t see who it was. Claudia and Sam leaped forward together and shoved the tapestry to the floor.
“Roll!” Joe called, waving his arms frantically.
Between the two of them, Claudia and Sam rolled the bundle back and forth on the floor. Joe jumped around them, trying to help. Holly stared back, looking for the rest of her friends.
Everyone was coughing. Holly looked up but, through the smoke, couldn’t see if there was a sprinkler system. Torc must have disabled it somehow if he’d ever had one installed, assuming they were still in the club and not elsewhere.
“If we don’t want to go to Hades prematurely, we need to get out now,” Cherokee said. He reached between Claudia and Sam and picked up the bundle.
“It’s my sister,” Claudia cried. “It just fell on her.”
The top of the tapestry crumbled away and Holly saw Ellery’s sooty, burned face. Was she breathing?
“Can we get through there into the bar and out the front?” Niall asked, pointing into Torc’s office when the doorway blinked open again.
“No, too dangerous. We have to backtrack. Cover your mouths and run. We’re heading backstage if the doors behave.”
With Ellery in a fireman’s carry, Cherokee led them as the door back to the hallway appeared. He slammed through the doors with superhuman strength as they winked into existence, not even bothering with the hot doorknobs.
Holly tripped on the bottom of a broken door but Greg caught her and pulled her along.
When they reached the last door that led to the backstage area, Cherokee bounced off it instead of breaking it down.
“Here.” He gently handed Ellery to Sam, who cradled her to his chest.
Claudia moved forward.
“Don’t touch,” Sam warned. “She’s badly burned.”
Cherokee tried the doorknob then pulled his hand back with an oath. Holly ripped off the blazer and ran forward to wrap it around the knob.
