“Mattie, where are you going?” Selfishly, she hoped it wasn’t to see Cassie. Right now she needed Johnny’s chief of security focused.
Mattie gave her a look of understanding. “Johnny’s in good hands, Stacey. My sister will protect him.” Stacey knew that—otherwise she wouldn’t have entrusted Cassie with Johnny in the first place. It was nice to hear it, however. “I’m going to confront my mother.”
“Right now?” Conlon asked. Mattie nodded and Conlon took her elbow, helping her stand.
She shook him off. “I’m fine … now.” Mattie handed the empty vial back to Stacey. “Thanks to you.”
Stacey rose and took the offered vial. “Don’t thank me. I just wanted you to get off my bed. Every time I turn around, one of you two are invading my space.” She pivoted before they saw how she really felt reflected in her eyes.
“Hey, Stacey.” Stacey glanced over her shoulder at Mattie. “That whole ‘viper’ thing? It takes one to know one.”
Stacey grinned. “You better believe it.” She shifted her line of sight to Conlon, who quirked a disbelieving brow at her. Great, how was she going to get him to hate her now? Especially since she wasn’t sure she still wanted his hatred.
The door shut silently behind them, and Stacey sighed. Fates, he was a handsome devil. His ass made her mouth salivate. She tried to think about his back instead, which had been only slightly less decadent while he had been turned. After he was partnered with a shifting Tellus, Stacey doubted there was much about Mattie left to his imagination, and yet he remained sensitive to her modesty. Quit softening to him. His reddened chest flashed into her mind, cooling her ardor and filling her with guilt.
Frustrated with herself, she lifted the receiver to call upstairs. No doubt her “surprise” visit had lost its impact. The phone picked up on the first ring by the CEO of her holdings company personally. Figures. “Michael, put together a video conference with all the COOs except Brinker. I will be up to meet them and you in thirty minutes.”
Michael cleared his throat. “Yes, Ms. Winkel.” He paused. “What about the companies across the globe? It’s the middle of the night.” Stacey remained silent looking at the ceiling. “Right. Okay. I’ll have everyone online and on time.”
“That’s what I pay you for. Have a monitor stream ready to Brinker’s office. I’ll call him personally. No heads up from you or anyone else. And I want you to leak to everyone that I am planning to visit each location within the next few weeks.” She set the phone back in the cradle. The new threat made her inspections impossible, but the COOs didn’t need to know that. There’s more than one way to keep people on their toes. Brinker was in for a rude awakening. She’d chosen the meeting time for a specific reason.
The sound of Conlon and Jack talking to others in her front office had her curiosity peaked. An Aquatie male and female were the first two people she saw. Like all of their kind, they were aesthetically pleasing to look at and nearly naked, wearing only swimming wear. The fact that they wore anything … ever … went against their nature. Both had marine-colored hair and eyes, the eyes a shade darker than the hair, to round out their perfection—paired siblings, the tightest bond capable within their species. The female stood almost the same height as she did with her heels on. The male was easily six foot six and looking at her with interest. His gaze roved over her, taking her in from head to foot before returning to her face. An eyebrow rose in invitation.
Stacey schooled an annoyed expression, her hand on one hip, tapping her foot. “Never gonna happen, fish boy. Not only no, but … hell no,” she sent out telepathically.
Conlon snorted out a laugh, echoed by the others in the room, including fish boy’s sibling and Jack. Aquaties loved sex, period; from what she’d heard, they were really good at it too. That was not an experience Stacey had ever desired. They were nice to look at, but ... not like she could trust herself anyway.
Two male Volaticus stood to her right. Brothers or possibly father/son? The males had dark hair and a deadly air about them. One leaned against the wall, flipping a dagger and catching it. The other extended his hand to shake hers. “Hi, Stacey, I am Eros Sicarius.” He tossed his head in the direction of the dagger tosser. “This is my son Victor.” Ancient power rolled into her without the need to touch. Stacey stared at his hand. The bad part of her wanted to take his hand, feel his energy, and warp it. Her mouth went dry and she started to shake her head “no” when Eros grasped her hand anyway. Stacey gasped at the surge from where their hands connected. His silver eyes clashed with hers in surprise. Like a tap, the flow of energy turned off. How did I do that? Stacey’s eyes met the sterling silver of his. His look of surprise morphed into a grin of understanding. “It’s nice to meet you.” Eros lifted her hand to place a chaste kiss on the backside. Nothing. She got nothing from him. How? He released her hand without uttering a word about what had just transpired between them.
She turned her stunned expression toward Conlon when she heard him growling low in his throat. “Quit that.” She rolled her eyes at him.
Had she learned to control it? Could she touch Conlon? Cassie had told her that one day she’d be able to control it. Had that day come?
Mark stepped in behind her, breaking the spell. He took in one face after another, paying special attention to the female Aquatie, who grinned with amusement. Not many women looked like her; she probably had men falling at her feet. Stacey narrowed her eyes at Conlon. He’d probably slept with this one too.
“I'm Greycia and this is my paired sibling, Greyton.” Her melodic voice made Stacey want curl up and listen to her speak for hours. All Aquaties had somewhat musical voices, a product of their sonar gifts with sound. It had taken Stacey a while to grow accustomed to Jack's, but Jack had nothing on Greycia. And then …
“Nice to meet you.” The perfectly pitched baritone flowed from Greyton. Wow. Oh great frickin’ universe! Good thing she shot him down before she heard him speak. The attraction to Greyton still didn't hold a candle to Conlon … but it should. Damn it. Her gaze traveled unintentionally to Conlon, who wiggled his eyebrows up and down and quirked a grin at her.
She wanted to punch him. Instead she ignored him and introduced herself. “This is Mark, my personal assistant. Jack, bring them up to speed. I have a conference in a few minutes upstairs.” Stacey didn't bother to see if Jack followed her instructions. She needed to get away from the heat in Conlon's eyes. He was becoming difficult to deny.
“No, you’re going to Mesa in a few minutes.” Conlon caught her arm. His grip was surprisingly gentle.
Stacey jerked her arm free “When the meeting over, then I will go. I have responsibilities. Deal with it,” she hissed, her face an inch from his. The infusion of passion within the hazel depths deflated the wind from her sails. Oh, Fates. She stomped off before taking him to the ground and pouncing on him right in front of everyone. It was more than simple attraction. He didn’t take her shit. Called her on the carpet … challenged her. Honor, integrity, duty, SEX … the guy was like a walking billboard.
The wall to her suite had nearly closed when the devil himself slipped into the gap. She turned to tell him to get out. The words lodged in her throat. His determined strides backed her to the wall. His body pressed to hers. The desperate expression on his face declared his intent a moment before warm, sensual lips touched lightly, sensually against hers. His kiss made rejecting him impossible. She was overwhelmed by the rich scent of male, so intimate, her mind churned with questions. With a sigh, she returned the kiss, opening beneath the masterful wielder. With a deep groan against her mouth he trailed kisses across her cheek, his warm breath at her ear as he spoke words so softly she had to strain to hear them. “I crave you, Stacey Winkel. You make me burn.”
His whispered confession brought the realization she probably was burning him, and not in a good way. Since the manifestation of her pyrokinesis abilities, the idea of hurting Johnny had terrified her. Yet Conlon's body trapped hers against the wall. His er
ection pressed erotically against her. His lips glistened from the moisture of her kiss. His deep voice in her ear sent a shiver through her.
“Shut up and kiss me again,” she demanded. Just one more minute. I can do this. His warm lips came down on hers again, scattering her thoughts to the wind from the sensation—oh, how this male could kiss. The kiss intensified until all Stacey could think about was the taste and feel of Conlon's lips on hers.
Once she reached sensory addle-brain, the kiss ended and the bastard, his voice husky, whispered in her ear, “Decide, Ms. Winkel. Stop now and see to your meeting or … finish what we've started.”
Stacey opened her eyes to meet the darkened, passionate color of his. He pressed his forehead to hers and drew a deep breath, his neck muscles strained, his jaw clenched, and ragged breaths sawing between his erupted dentes. Decide? How could she have him with the least amount of physical contact?
Stacey let a small amount of her true fears show. “I want to finish … but I can’t, Conlon. I’ll burn you. Your chin is reddening from a simple kiss.”
Conlon groaned, “I can take the heat. If it burns I’ll stop.”
Did she dare? “If I kill you, it’s not my fault.” Desire flooded her system and overruled her better judgment. Fates, she wanted him. He nodded as Stacey reached between them to release the front of his jeans; his hands slid her skirt up, bunching it at her hips to expose the thigh-high nylons and the lower curve of her tattoo. Her lace panties were torn away by his urgent hands. She raised one leg to his waist. Conlon hooked it and then her other leg with his arms, suspending her weight on his arms as if she were a feather. Stacey kept her eyes averted from the tattoo. The reminder she usually sought at moments of vulnerability was not something she wanted intruding on this moment.
He gave her a kind of sexy grin designed to turn a female into jelly. Hot and demanding, he kissed her with fervor and an edge of desperation in the way his tongue dueled with hers. She felt her heat rise as she matched his passion with her own. Control, control, control, she chanted in her mind
Cradled by her thighs over his arms, she felt the head of his erection teasing against her folds. Please! She tried to push downward, needing him inside her. He didn’t plunge it into her. The pace of his penetration was slow, like the flow of thick molasses filling her, stroking her inner walls as her body stretched to accommodate his girth, a balm to the burn within her while stoking her passion higher.
The instant response of her body shocked her. Her sheath began to throb from her building climax as he reached his hilt, and firm, unyielding pressure at her core took her to the edge; greedy moans full of need escaped her lips with every rapid breath she exhaled.
Conlon started circling his hips, stimulating her bundle of nerves meshed firmly against his root, sensation rippled up her inner walls to her core. Her muscles clenched and she exploded with a strangled cry of pleasure cut short when Conlon’s lips captured hers. The kiss seared through her as he circled his hips faster, sending her into a fresh bought of orgasmic spasms. When she felt she couldn't take anymore, he began to thrust in and out, taking her even higher, sharing with her a new perspective of her own body.
A level of passion she didn't know existed bloomed large in her. With a strangled growl, his body tensed and then bucked, burying his seed in her and sending her under another crashing climatic wave. If he could do this to her within a matter of minutes … what would an entire night be like?
Their lips and tongues tangled seductively until her body tremors faded and her inner muscles calmed around the silken steel buried deep. His breath trailed down her neck, his dentes scraping over her pulse tantalizingly as he withdrew from her.
Conlon released his hold of her legs and carefully set her back on her shaky feet, his hand cupping her breast through her blouse. “Do you know what we are?” Conlon whispered, asking her to confirm the very thing Stacey had been trying desperately to deny since the moment she saw him. That denial was harder after he confirmed it to whomever he’d spoken on the phone to.
Bloodmates. Now she knew … her body definitely knew; Stacey felt her heart melt just a little. Shit. Too late she found the ability to push him away from her. His eyes never left her face, and his erection was still large and proud, commanding her visual attention. Her dente punctured into her lip, and he leaned in and licked the drop, removing the sting and sealing it instantly. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that or scare you.”
Stacey shook her head. “You didn't scare me. I think you may be right about the … you know. I'm just … I can’t deal with that right now. I won't think about that right now. Later … maybe … but not now.”
He leaned in, challenging her. Stacey wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head the last few millimeters to bring his lips to hers. His warm lips took hers again, leaving her free of thought, yearning for more as he broke from her lips to trail kisses across her cheek. His breath found the shell of her ear. “Later,” he conceded
She nodded, hating to let him go but feeling the responsibility of her obligations settle heavily onto her shoulder. Then there was the new threat to consider, Johnny's safety, and the hurt Cassie was facing with Mattie and Hans's reappearance in her poor friend’s world.
The complication Conlon posed might not be what she wanted right now, but what he had done to her body … had been exactly what she'd needed. She felt infused, able to conquer the world, energized and giddy. Conlon stepped back from her and dropped to his knees. His chest and arms flamed red. His erection, though still hard, was on the cusp of blistering. Oh, Fates. She had scorched and energy-drained him. Stacey raced to the fridge for a pint of her blood.
“Dumbass, I warned you. Typical male—you just have to play with fire.” Tears threatened as she handed the blood to him. He took the bag and smiled, plunging his dentes into the plastic. I knew better. I thought … I could control it. That was stupid, reckless, dammit, dammit, dammit …
The bag of blood emptied, he tossed it into the wastebasket and rose to his feet. His burns healing quickly, he stepped to the fridge for a second pint. “I don’t want an apology, Stacey. I want to do that again … and again.” Biting into the bag he started toward her.
“Conlon, I could have killed you.” Stacey held her hand up, halting him. His pants hanging open drew her attention to the fact that he was still turned on. What was he, some kind of masochist? Did he enjoy pain? “And I sure as hell didn’t apologize.”
The second drained pint joined the first. All the redness had faded from his skin. “I would have died a happy male. You can’t be afraid of your gift. I’m not.”
“Then you’re an idiot,” Stacey snapped.
Chapter Eleven
Huey took a chortal to the SOSC headquarters in Greenland. He bypassed the hospe in lieu of the archive department. Osiris had given him a big order to fill. Before he committed to tossing his career and the life he knew in the toilet, he needed to verify something.
“Dr. Fennel, you’re back again. Still studying the history of Elven evolution?” The young Tellus librarian had grown accustomed to his visits. His feigned interest in evolution had become a well-developed mask for what he usually researched. Osiris had been right on many fronts, including the fact that Huey had kept his true pursuit secret. Was he right about him having a subconscious knowledge that the research put him in danger? Huey wasn’t so sure about that. He’d always felt that being forthright about the discoveries he’d made might give the Hulven males a premature and possibly false hope.
“Hi, Kate. I won’t be here long today. I need to check on a patient.” Lying, he gave her a friendly smile and turned in the direction of the area he usually went. Once her desk was out of sight he detoured to a different portion of records. Oracles. He was surprised by how small the section was comparatively; every Oracle ever recorded fit into only three volumes. He quickly scanned the pages. Some had pictures or renderings next to the name, though most did not, including one Jefferson Patra. H
uey halted at the name to read the short entry: last seen summer of 994 AD … presumed deceased … Well, that settled it—Osiris had told him the truth.
With determination and purpose, he waved goodbye to Kate and made his way to the back entrance of the Hospe. The Elven have been holding the male Hulven back from their destiny for thousands of years. Huey had never known such rage as he did now, hidden behind his smiles and waves to those people he knew so well as they greeted him in the hallways.
He’d been a healer here before Herme had offered him the opportunity to transfer. In the past, the familiarity of these people might have given him pause in doing what Osiris had asked. Not now. Now they stoked his anger further. How many of them knew of the conspiracy against his kind? How many of them knew the truth and kept it hidden?
With the scrambled SAT phone Osiris had given him in hand, he ducked into the central records room and closed the door behind him. Logging into a computer, he plugged in a thumb drive and sent a pulse of energy to jam the cameras for the few minutes of privacy he’d need before security came in and restored it. Then he dialed.
Osiris answered on the first ring. “Did you have any difficulties? I expected your call before now.”
Huey felt momentary guilt over his need to verify Osiris’s oracle before calling, but he stifled it behind a half-truth. “I ran into a friend, no problem.”
“Good, good. Let’s get started, shall we?” Some of the people Osiris wanted full medical dossiers on Huey knew of; others he’d never heard of before: Umbrae Sicarius and the individual workup performed on all four of her children; Jess Reed Einar and her bloodmate Shane; Stacey Winkel. He’d never heard of Stacey Winkel, and from the surprise in his voice, Osiris had never heard of Stacey’s son Johnny. There were no records for Eros Sicarius or any of his sons on file. The last one Osiris requested was for a male named Mick Tenor.
Fire's Touch (The Enlightened Species Book Three) Page 9
