Wicked Fantasy

by Nina Bangs

  Her heart did a giant ker-thud. “Um, I think you lost the rest of your costume.” All bare. Bare, bare, bare. Ker-thud, ker-thud. Her erotic vibrations were back and thrumming at the speed of sound. She expected a sonic boom at any moment. And one glance between those powerful thighs convinced her that his erotic vibrations had been humming all along.

  “I pulled some strings to squeeze this fantasy in. The robe was the only thing left in the costume room.”

  Did she believe him? No. But he got high marks for creativity. She was suspicious, but since she couldn’t stand not knowing what he had planned, she laid back against the pillows. “So what’re you going to do?”

  “Talk. Just talk.”

  She frowned. Bummer.

  6

  Conall made no excuses for himself. He wanted her. Damn.

  Eight centuries had taught him a lot about reading what was in women’s eyes. She wanted him, too. Hell.

  But he couldn’t do it. As much as he wanted to wipe away the bitterness of all those years by burying himself deep inside her, he couldn’t do that to Gerry. He wouldn’t become a user. That would make him like all the Kavanaghs he despised.

  Besides, if Gerry and he made love, Morrigan would be pissed off in a major way because he’d enjoyed himself with a Kavanagh. And the bitch goddess took out her anger by killing things. In this case, one of his descendants would die.

  So he talked. “Live the fantasy in your mind, Gerry. I’m the sultan, master of everyone and everything. Listen as I tell you all that I’ll do to please you.”

  “I don’t know about the master thing.” She frowned, evidently not into fantasy mode yet. “And aren’t harem girls supposed to please the sultan?”

  Talk, talk, talk. He didn’t want a friendly chat. He wanted action. He stomped all over that thought. “I’m one of the very few sensitive sultans. So just enjoy it, okay?”

  Her smile was sly and knowing. “Frustrated, are we?”

  “You bet.” Conall rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the tension. “Imagine my mouth on yours—hot, hungry.” He lowered himself above her until their lips were mere inches apart.

  She slid her tongue across her bottom lip, and the damp sheen of it called to him.

  “I’ll trace your lips with my tongue, memorizing your taste and texture.”

  “What will I taste like?” She parted her lips, teasing, inviting.

  He resisted. Barely. “You’ll taste of . . .” What in his endless memories brought a surge of happiness? “Ireland. The flavor of peat fires on a cold winter night and sea mist rolling in from the Atlantic.”

  The guy part of his brain said that was a bunch of crap. He didn’t talk that way. But the tiny section of his mind that understood what would touch her stood up and applauded. Manipulative? Maybe. He really did love Ireland, but he wouldn’t have expressed it in that way.

  She reached up to push a strand of hair away from his face. “Go on. I’m riveted.”

  “I’ll cover your mouth with mine, my tongue exploring your warmth and sweet temptation.” He fought his growing arousal, because all that blood rushing to harden his body left his brain bloodless. And his bloodless brain made stupid decisions like: Sex is good, let’s do it now.

  Conall watched her breathing quicken, stretching that sexy little bra to the max. Ever hopeful, he waited for it to spring open, spilling her luscious breasts into his waiting hands. He was doomed to disappointment. It was like an eternal taffy pull. The material stretched and stretched and stretched some more. His more violent self suggested he rip the damn thing off.

  “Mmm. That sounds good.” She wiggled that delicious bottom and arched her back. “More.”

  Who the hell was the patron saint of self-control? He needed some divine intervention right now.

  He kept his hand just above her body as he skimmed the length of all that smooth, soft skin and those man-killer curves. Don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch. “Next I’ll kiss a path over your jaw and down the side of your neck.” She was vampire, and he knew what would excite her. “I’ll put my mouth over the spot where your life force pulses fast and hard. Then I’ll slide my tongue back and forth, back and forth.”

  Her lips parted in a low moan, and her fangs were fully extended. Conall never thought of vampire fangs as erotic, but on her they were damned hot.

  She reached for him, but he stayed just out of reach. “Listen, just listen.”

  She subsided with a sulky pout on her sensual mouth.

  “I’ll strip you bare.” Just the thought of her exposed body writhing beneath his gaze took his breath away. His brain was going down for sure with no blood or oxygen. He took a deep gulp of air.

  “And?” Her eyes were huge, no longer green, but so dark he imagined he could see his hunger reflected in them. She let the human slip away as her vampire nature rose on a wave of sexual excitement.

  “First I’ll cup your breasts, enjoying the weight and feel of them filling my hands.” Conall knew his glance was desperate as he stared at the bra. He wanted to tear it apart with his teeth. “I won’t be able to resist sliding my tongue around those mouthwatering nipples. Then I’ll nip and flick them with my tongue until they’re hard and swollen, so sensitive you’ll cry out when I even breathe on them.”

  He’d forgotten about how fast a vampire could move. Before he could react, she grabbed a handful of his hair and tried to force his head to her breasts. He fought a battle on two fronts: trying to resist her strength and his own fast-fading self-control.

  With a huff of temper, she released him. “Big, ugly, mean tease.” She waved her hand at him. “Okay, I take back the ugly.”

  “I’m suffering, too.” No lie. He could probably break bricks with his hard-on. “Want to know what I’ll do next?”

  He watched her weigh her mad at him against her sexual enjoyment of the fantasy he was weaving. “Yeah, I guess—”

  She never got a chance to finish. The booming of a giant gong shattered the moment.

  Eyes wide, Gerry jerked to a sitting position. Conall did some inventive cursing.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but your fantasy time is up.” Varinia stood in the doorway, her gaze fixed on Conall’s open robe. “If you want to purchase additional time, you’ll have to go to the ticket counter.”

  Gerry narrowed her eyes as she followed the trajectory of Varinia’s yearning glances. Conall couldn’t stop his instinctive twinge of triumph.

  Gerry reached over and yanked his robe closed. “We’ve had enough time, thank you.”

  Conall grinned. She was such a liar.

  Varinia heaved a deep sigh. “Sometimes virginity sucks.” She turned and left.

  “Virginity? What’s that about?” He recognized her. She was one of the women he’d seen last night with the guy Sparkle identified as Edge. When had Holgarth hired her?

  Gerry ignored his question as he stood and then helped her to her feet. Her gaze skittered away from him. “Speaking of sucks, I just want you to know that I, uh . . . Ahem. I mean, if we ever do this again, not that we will, but if we do . . . Er, do you suck toes or do any mouth-to-feet stuff?” She stared at one of the exotic tapestries hanging from the wall.

  A foot fetish? Who would’ve thought? Not a turn-on to him. Not that it mattered. There wouldn’t be any more virtual seductions. He wasn’t sure he’d survive this one. Pleasure turned to pain fast when you resisted sex’s siren call. “So toe-sucking makes it happen for you?”

  Her eyes widened. “No, absolutely not. I’m really really ticklish. I go berserk and hurt people who mess with my feet.”

  Conall shrugged. “No problem.” Why had she mentioned it in the first place?

  He didn’t overthink the foot thing as they left the palace and walked slowly back toward the castle. Neither one of them had much to say. Good thing, because he was trying to deal with an overexcited body part. He focused on ugly, deflating thoughts: waking up to find Morrigan la Crow in bed with him, trapped with Sparkle in
a shoe store, chained to Asima at the opera.

  The body part was still plenty ticked, so he thought maybe a drink would calm things down. “Let’s stop at Wicked Fantasy.”

  She nodded but didn’t say anything. What was she thinking, and did he want to know?

  Once inside the club, they agreed to sit at the bar. Conall didn’t need the added intimacy of a table right now.

  “Sparkle, Brynn, and Kim are at the bar. Let’s sit with them.” The most she’d said since leaving the Sultan’s Palace. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more incredible-looking man than Brynn.”

  “Demons of sensual desire usually are.” Conall had finally found something to quell his cock’s enthusiasm. The relief was no relief at all. “It’s part of their job description: must be too hot for women to resist.” He was jealous—furious, seeing red, and wanting to stomp Brynn into the floor jealous. The realization shocked him to his immortal core.

  Gerry plowed on, unaware she’d stirred up thoughts of death and destruction in the man next to her. “Kim’s right for him, though. Her red hair with those green eyes are spectacular.”

  “Your green eyes are prettier.” Had that just come from his mouth? In eight hundred years he’d never complimented a Kavanagh. No, wait, he’d told Mick’s wife he looked good in his coffin. But that was it. God, he needed that drink.

  Conall guided them to two stools between Sparkle and Brynn. Relieved, he watched Gerry sit next to Sparkle. He didn’t need to listen to the castle’s maven of sex lecture him on the stupidity of not making love to Gerry.

  Gerry immediately turned to Sparkle. Okay, so she didn’t want to talk to him. He could deal. He turned toward Brynn and Kim.

  “I don’t sense any sexual afterglow, sister. What the hell did you do in the Sultan’s Palace?” Sparkle pursed perfectly shaped lips that gleamed moist with a soft, sexy red color.

  “How’d you know we went to the Sultan’s Palace?” And why do you care?

  Sparkle glanced across the room. Whatever she saw made her frown. “Someone told me. And I care because I’ve taken an interest in you and Conall.”

  Time to ask the question she should’ve asked when she first suspected Sparkle was in her head. “What are you?”

  Sparkle smiled. Not a comforting smile. “Took you long enough to ask. But young vampires rarely have the ability to perceive power in others.” She smoothed a finger over her ring.

  Gerry stared at the ring. “Hey, isn’t that—?”

  Sparkle held up her hand. “Please, no lectures. The Bimmel woman would never be able to appreciate something this magnificent.”

  “But—”

  “I simply convinced her that she really wanted me to have the ring as a thank-you for invigorating her dismal sex life.” She looked righteous. “Which I definitely did. So it was a fair exchange.”

  “Okay, back to square one. What are you?”

  “I’m a cosmic troublemaker. And I know, you’ve never heard of us. But we’re some of the most powerful beings in the universe. Each of us has a particular area of expertise. I’ve spent thousands of years spreading sexual . . . bliss throughout the world.” She looked like she expected questions.

  Gerry wouldn’t disappoint. “Let’s see if I’m clear on the concept. You’re trying to hook up Conall and me?”

  Sparkle smiled. “Of course. You guys are a challenge. I thrive on challenges.”

  “Well, don’t strain anything, because it’s not going to happen.” She pushed aside the memory of her unfortunate response to Conall the Studly Sultan. When a woman had been deprived for a certain amount of time, arousal was only a glance away. Any man would’ve pushed her happy button. Uh-huh, sure.

  Sparkle looked like she was ready to argue, but evidently the someone she’d been watching across the room decided to join her. A tawny-haired man pushed away from his table and grabbed the stool next to Sparkle.

  He didn’t waste time. “We need to talk.” No friendly vibes coming from him.

  Since none of the man’s anger was directed at her, Gerry took a good look. Great-looking guy. But then, the Castle of Dark Dreams had more than its share of hot men. Thick, sandy-colored hair that shone warm and inviting beneath the club’s dim lighting combined with a great mouth, great eyes . . . Eyes. She tried to lean around Sparkle. His eyes were a strange amber color. The same shade as Sparkle’s eyes. The same shade as the wife killer’s eyes.

  Sparkle didn’t make an effort to introduce Gerry, but the man took matters into his own hands.

  “Hi, there. I’m Edge. And you are?”

  If Conall hadn’t already wowed Gerry with his smile, this guy would’ve knocked her off her stool. “Gerry. Are you a guest here?”

  Her heart pounded at the thought she might’ve gotten lucky this fast. He looked good enough to be irresistible to most women, and the eye color was right. Too bad the sleeves of his shirt covered his upper arms.

  Sparkle’s smile was brittle. “Edge works for me. Business before pleasure. We’ll get back to our conversation after I take care of this.” She turned away from Gerry, effectively shutting her out.

  Edge met Gerry’s gaze. “I’m Sparkle’s partner. I don’t work for anyone.”

  Gerry smiled weakly and turned away. She tried to look interested in what Conall was saying. Her enhanced hearing would pick up Sparkle’s conversation. She pretended to take a sip of the drink she’d ordered.

  “You think you’re smart, Stardust, but you’re not playing with an amateur here.” Edge’s voice was a furious whisper.

  “Temper, temper.” Sparkle sounded amused. “Let me guess. Your challenge is too much for you, and you want to admit defeat. That’s okay. I can be gracious in victory.”

  “You knew Destiny was a shark hunter. When Banan found out, he was ready to tear her apart. She’s in her room sharpening her damn harpoon or whatever the hell she uses to kill sharks with.” Edge’s growl held fury and barely contained violence.

  Gerry shivered. She sort of hoped he wasn’t her man.

  “But see, that’s the challenge. If you’re worthy to take my place, you need to prove you can win the big games.” Sparkle still sounded cheerful. “And what have your demonic helpers been up to?”

  Demonic helpers? Gerry frowned. What was that about?

  Edge’s soft chuckle had nothing to do with good humor. “I bet you’re wondering why your happy couple didn’t do it in the Sultan’s Palace.”

  “Stay out of my way, Edge, or I’ll destroy you.” Sparkle was using her serial-killer voice.

  Gerry believed her.

  “Sparkle, sweet Sparkle, you still don’t know what I am. You’re just a pawn in the Big Boss’s little power game. Don’t think you can threaten me. Ever.” Without waiting for Sparkle to respond, he left.

  Gerry was outta here. Whatever was going on between Edge and Sparkle somehow involved Conall and her. Danger was like a thick fog around her, making Gerry afraid to stick out her hand for fear of something biting it off, because she couldn’t see a damned thing. She slipped from her stool and headed for the exit.

  Conall caught her just outside the club’s entrance. “Where’re you going?”

  “Back to my room.” She kept walking. “To pack and get my behind out of this crazy place.”

  He matched her stride. “Calm down and tell me what happened.”

  She didn’t say anything as she pounded down the stone steps, shoved past him into the dungeon, and stopped dead. A big black cat crouched on her coffee table with its head buried in a container of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

  Okay, this was the proverbial last straw. “I don’t know who or what you are, but get the hell out of my room!”

  She welcomed the slide of her fangs. With a screech of fury, she grabbed the lamp, yanked the cord from the wall, and heaved it at the cat with every ounce of her vampire strength. It seemed to bounce off an invisible shield before it reached its target and fell harmlessly to the floor.

  The cat didn’t
even take its head from the container.

  Wildly, she looked around for something else to throw. Conall wrapped his arms around her, but she fought him.

  “Calm down. That’s Ganymede. Throwing stuff won’t help.” His quiet murmur only infuriated her more.

  “Sure it will. It makes me feel great.” Gerry broke free and picked up the small TV. She chucked it after the lamp. It didn’t come any closer than the lamp had, but it made a satisfying crash as it hit the floor.

  Conall winced.

  She glared at him. “Put them on my bill.”

  But at least the cat looked up from its ice cream. It stared at her from amber eyes the same color as Sparkle’s and Edge’s. Then it carefully licked the ice cream from its mouth with a pink tongue. “You’ve got a vicious streak, babe. Love that in a woman.” The voice was low and husky. Male.

  With a sob of near hysteria, she grabbed for the phone and dialed Payton’s number with shaking fingers. When he picked up, she didn’t even wait for him to speak. “I’m bringing Jinx in. Burke can take over here.”

  She could hear Payton’s huge sigh. “I’m afraid Burke won’t be there anytime soon. He has chicken pox. They started popping out last night. You’ll have to stay.”

  “Chicken pox?” As she talked, her fangs retracted and her head cleared a little. “Well, send another agent.”

  “Sorry, they’re all in the middle of important operations. It’s you or no one.” He sounded impatient. “I realize you’re new to the force, but you’ll just have to hang in there until I have another agent free. What’s happened so far?”

  “So far I’ve interacted with a cosmic troublemaker, a messenger of Bast in cat form, a wizard, two vampires, the Irish goddess Morrigan, an ex-demon of sensual desire, a pregnant cell phone . . .” She glanced at Conall. “And an immortal warrior.” Gerry was shouting, but she didn’t care. “Now there’s a freakin’ cat eating ice cream on my coffee table. And, and, and I didn’t even buy any ice cream.” She held her breath to keep from exploding into tears. A mental breakdown would not be good for her career.