Master of Seduction (Merlin's Legacy 1)

by Angela Knight

  “Never mind.” He caught hold of the band between the bra’s cups and tore the fabric carefully, trying not to put any more strain on her bruised sternum. The twinge of pain that crossed her face revealed he hadn’t quite succeeded. Rather than try to maneuver the straps off, he snapped them one by one, then tossed the bra aside.

  And froze. Under normal circumstances, he suspected it would be a very nice view. Her breasts were full and round on her leanly muscled chest, topped by pink nipples that crinkled in involuntary reaction as he stared at her.

  Unfortunately, he was feeling too guilty to appreciate the view. Reaching out, he delicately traced the contours of the bruise again. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have broken ribs. You had no business fencing like this.”

  Rachel glowered up at him as her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. “Give me credit for some sense. I got a chest X-ray after the shooting. Nothing was even cracked. It’s only a bruise.”

  Nathan grunted, and twisted off the jar’s lid. The ointment it contained was cool and white, and his fingers tingled from the magic as he scooped it out.

  “What’s that?” she asked as he started spreading it over the blue-black lump. She sucked in a breath in surprise as the magic went to work, brown eyes widening.

  “Magical salve, specifically designed for bruises. Anything more complicated than that needs a healer.” He traced a finger through the red line left by his sword stroke.

  “I thought you vampire types turned into wolves whenever you needed to heal.” Her tone was cool, but her throat worked as she swallowed, her gaze following the movement of his fingers as he sought out each mark his blade had inflicted. On her arms, with their smooth skin over long female muscle, along one shoulder… His hands began to slow, savoring the textures of her body.

  “Shifting to wolf burns a lot of magic, and I don’t like to do it to heal relatively trivial injuries.” His voice sounded a little hoarse, and he swallowed and cleared his throat.

  His gaze landed on her breasts again. The ugly purple bruise was beginning to fade as the magic did its work. Without its guilty distraction, he grew even more aware of the lovely, pale curves with their tight peaks. What do they taste like?

  This was a very bad idea. The whole point of this little exercise had been to build distance between them, not to erode his self-control even more. Self-control that was more than a little rickety to begin with, given that intoxicating Latent scent he smelled every time he drew a breath in her presence.

  His fangs began to ache.

  Give her the damn jar and get out, his common sense told him. Trouble was, he’d spent the fight watching her -- and found himself reluctantly impressed by her grace and guts, by her refusal to back down, by her sheer willpower.

  His stubborn hands reached for the waistband of her leggings even as his common sense whispered Don’t do it.

  The whisper was way too faint.

  * * *

  Rachel swallowed as those big scarred hands tugged the leggings downward. “What are you doing?”

  He froze, staring at the triangle of red panty he’d revealed. His throat worked as he swallowed. At least she wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of this. Whatever the hell this was. “Checking your legs for bruises.”

  “Yeah? Because it looks like you’re taking my clothes off.” Which would’ve sounded a lot more cynical without the rough note in her voice.

  “Even a vampire can’t see through fabric.” He looked up at her, and she drew in a hard breath at the dark blaze in his eyes. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

  The heat in his eyes made her heart start pounding in long, furious lunges. What did she want? She had no idea. But her nipples were drawn tight, and she could feel her sex going slick. He blinked, and his nostrils flared.

  And Rachel remembered Gee had told her vampires had a sense of smell as acute as a bloodhound’s. Oh God, he’s smelling how turned on I am.

  Her attention slid helplessly downward.

  A bulge swelled below his belt, thick enough to choke an anaconda. She didn’t quite manage to suppress her gasp.

  Nathan’s lips curled in a half smile in the black frame of his goatee. He kept pulling the leggings down. The red panties didn’t go with them.

  Quite.

  He got the leggings down to her knees, then stopped. Deliberately, he took her flats off and placed them neatly to one side. When he turned away, she shot a quick look between her thighs. There was a dark patch on her red silk panties, silent testimony to her arousal. She almost reached down to cover herself, but arrested the gesture. We’re supposed to sleep together, damn it. I’m not going to act like a virgin debutante from a Victorian romance.

  So she made herself lie there as he scooped out more of the magical salve. Again, he traced the line of a long sword stroke that cut the length of her thigh. Again, the cream felt cool going on, only to heat a moment later as the magic went to work, building rapidly into a sting that reminded her of alcohol on an open cut.

  Nathan stopped to study her legs, searching for more bruises. Spotting one, he hesitated a long moment. Following the direction of his eyes, she saw why. The long red mark stopped barely an inch below the crotch of her panties.

  He dug out more of the cream and slowly spread it along the welt. Again, ice soothed the ache, followed by the sting of healing, until it was all she could do not to writhe with growing need.

  Nathan sat back on his heels, his hot eyes scanning her body. This time, he wasn’t looking for bruises. Raw possessiveness glittered in those blue eyes.

  She cleared her throat. “There’s a bruise on your arm.”

  His gaze met hers. For a moment she felt she was tumbling in free-fall. “Yes.” His voice sounded deeper, rougher than it had a moment before.

  Rachel sat up and took the jar from his hand. Nothing hurt. “That salve’s good stuff.” She scooped out some of the cream, and traced her fingertips over the hard contours of his biceps. At her touch, the thick muscle twitched.

  Acutely aware of the sway of her bare breasts, she reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head. And froze, much as he had.

  Nathan looked as if some classical sculptor had carved him out of marble, all smooth, hard curves and ridges. His wasn’t the heavy build of a weightlifter, for whom muscle was an end in itself. Nor did he have the gangly appearance of a marathon runner. Instead, his body struck the perfect balance between the two like an Olympic swimmer, with enough bulk for strength, but not enough to slow him down.

  Scars marred that perfect body here and there, thin lines that reminded her of his duelist career. Old sword wounds, probably inflicted with a rapier.

  A long red line slashed over his belly that looked like an abrasion from her practice sword. Rachel scooped up more of the cream and leaned forward to trace it over the injury. Muscle moved under her fingers as though he drew in a breath.

  She looked up automatically to find Nathan staring down at her, his eyes intense and hot.

  Broad hands slid into the hair at her neck, pulling her head back. His mouth covered hers, lips soft in the frame of his beard. The kiss started out slow, almost gentle, more request than claiming.

  Until she groaned.

  Nathan growled. It was a rough, animal, very male sound, fierce with hunger. He opened his mouth wider, increasing the pressure until he fed at her lips in deep, eating kisses.

  Ravenous.

  Excitement burned through her like a flame licking along a fuse, heat building toward an explosion.

  A big hand came up and cupped her breast, palm rough with calluses and scars. The faint abrasion made her heating lust leap higher. Rachel dragged her mouth away from his, sucking a breath. “I thought you didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to give me the Gift.”

  He stared into her eyes from inches away. His gaze was so feral with lust, it was like staring into the eyes of a tiger. “Once won’t do it.”

  “Three will.”

&
nbsp; His lips lifted in a quick flashing grin. “Which gives me one more time before I have to make up my mind.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Get used to it.” This time when his mouth crushed down on hers, she felt the prick of his fangs. One hand tightened on her breast, thumb raking over her nipple, each rough brush sending an intoxicating rush of flame through her, until it felt as if her veins began to glow. He gripped her hair in a big fist. Something about the stinging hold heated her blood even more.

  He surged against her, bearing her backward, his hand cradling her skull, preventing it from knocking into the floor as his weight hit her. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his hips, and her arms around his powerful torso as thick brawn worked under her hands. Her short nails dug into his skin. The feel of that velvet flesh indenting under the pressure was wildly arousing. She growled herself, a little rumble in the base of her throat, a little animal, a lot hungry.

  He growled back. And bit her lower lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood with those fangs, but the threat was there. And God, it aroused her.

  She dug her nails and tightened her thighs. Felt the bulk of his cock through the rough fabric of his jeans. Rachel moaned at the thick promise of it. The raw, erotic tease.

  She wanted more.

  He pulled away a fraction, arctic eyes wide, the pupils huge and eating the light. He began to kiss his way along the length of her jaw, tongue swirling, tasting her. She threw back her head, gasping, tightening the grip of her thighs so she could grind her silk-clad pussy against his cock.

  Wet. She was so wet, and he was so hard. And he was going to fuck her. God, she wanted it, whether or not it was the first step to getting the Gift. Rachel really didn’t give a damn about the Gift just now.

  She wanted Nathan.

  He tasted his way along her jaw to her ear, paused to swirl his tongue around her lobe, press the delicate flesh between his front teeth. Careful not to break the skin.

  His lips found her pulse and paused. She gasped, feeling the heat of his mouth against the throbbing beat of it. He’s going to bite me. He’s going to feed. And it’s going to hurt. Yet there was a wicked arousal in that thought, a perverse need to feel the sting and penetration of his teeth. To listen to the sound of him swallowing her blood.

  Claiming her.

  Rachel had never wanted anybody to claim her. Hell, yesterday the thought would have outraged her. But now she froze against him, breath held, waiting for the sink and sting of his fangs. Waiting for the liquid sound of his swallows.

  Instead he jerked his head away from her throat, met her gaze, his narrow and wild. His lips curled into something halfway between a smile and a snarl. “Not yet.”

  When she hissed in frustration, he laughed. Went back to kissing and licking his way down her throat. He pulled tighter on her hair, drawing her spine into an arch. Rachel tried to fight his hold, but his vampire strength overwhelmed her easily.

  She was helpless.

  God, that’s exciting. She ground against his erection, nails digging deeper into his skin.

  “Keep that up, and you’ll draw blood.”

  “Good,” she gritted. “You deserve it.”

  He laughed, deep and rough, a tiger’s purr. “Maybe I do, at that.” He lowered his head until his mouth hovered over her nipple. His eyes flashed up at hers. “The question is, what do you deserve?” The tip of one fang flashed white over the thrusting peak, an implied threat that made her breath catch.

  Something wild and hot spun through Rachel, making her crave that dark, erotic pain. She’d never considered herself a masochist, but something about Nathan’s stare seemed to draw out an answering wildness. Made her crave things she’d never known, never even dreamed of wanting.

  Made her want to leap into the dark after him.

  * * *

  Nathan stared up at her as hot lust fisted his balls until the roots of his fangs ached. He shouldn’t be doing this -- it was a bad idea -- but he didn’t give a shit. He’d wanted Rachel since she’d stalked into her apartment covered in sweat, her eyes dark with pain and black memory.

  He should have known it was going to end up like this, regardless of what his common sense told him.

  He had to have her. Now.

  Nathan closed his mouth over her breast, sucked hard, and was rewarded by the sting of her nails drawing blood. He loved that he’d driven her so wild, loved the grind of her panty-clad pussy against his dick.

  He reached down, wrapped his fist in that ridiculous scrap of red silk. Twisted. Jerked. The panties tore like spider silk in his hand.

  But he was still wearing his jeans. And he needed them the hell off. He levered himself off her, jolted to his feet, jerked off his ankle boots. Sent them banging against the nearest wall while he went for his snap and his zipper and began dragging the jeans off.

  Rachel propped up on her elbows and watched him, a long chestnut curl falling into glittering brown eyes, color riding high in her cheeks. He could smell her arousal with every breath he took. Nathan jerked his pants off, and almost fell on his ass in his haste. He sent them sailing after the boots.

  That he bent down, scooped her into his arms, and headed out of the room and down the hall.

  She looped her arms around his neck. “Where are we going?”

  “Bedroom. I’m damned if I’m going to fuck you on the floor.”

  Rachel gave him a gamine smile. “Well, as long as you’ve got a plan.”

  He returned the smile with one deliberately evil. “Oh, I have a plan, all right.”

  She laughed, the sound throaty and a little wicked. His cock bucked at the erotic promise in her voice. Damned if he could remember the last time he’d been this turned on.

  Never mind that he practically fucked for a living. Deep in his mind, a voice said, This is different.

  No, it’s not, insisted his sense of self-preservation.

  He ignored both and carried her up the stairs. It was the kind of maneuver he used frequently with his Latents, romantic and dominant at once.

  This time, it wasn’t part of his act. There was something about having her in his arms that felt different. As if he were claiming her rather than simply seducing her.

  Nathan looked down into her face, and saw a flicker of vulnerability and unease in her gaze. But beneath that emotion was a glitter of erotic excitement.

  She wanted him.

  He couldn’t think of the last time he’d wanted a woman this badly.

  Nathan carried Rachel down the hall to his bedroom, enjoying her awed murmur as she looked around at the huge brass bed and the stained glass window that took up one whole wall. He strode to the bed and lowered her to the enchanted mink throw that lay across it. She purred in approval at the press of the pelt’s silken texture against her bare skin. Then she frowned slightly.

  “And before you ask, no, it didn’t come from real animals,” Nathan told her, having previously encountered Millennial objections to skinning the small and fuzzy. “You can lie back and enjoy it with a clear conscience.”

  She grinned wickedly up at him. “Okay, you talked me into it.”

  He straightened, admiring the carnal contrast between her lush, pale body and the dark fur. As he watched, she scooted toward the middle of the bed, lovely breasts bouncing. Her eyes were hot with anticipation.

  Before Rachel could scoot any further, he grabbed her ankles and lifted them so he could drape her thighs over his shoulders. He practically dove for her pussy, enjoying her sharp indrawn breath as his mouth covered her. He thrust his tongue deep, eyes slipped closed at the salty pleasure of her taste, tinged with that hint of magical spice that meant Latent.

  Distilled sex. God, he loved that taste. He released his grip on one thigh to spread her vaginal lips and stab his tongue deep.

  * * *

  Rachel gasped, both hands fisting the fur at the burning pleasure of his long licks, the elegant swirling patterns over clit and between lips. God, he was good at tha
t. She rolled her head back against the pelt as delight leapt with every tiny flick and nibble.

  She felt as if he were winding her up like the key of an old-fashioned toy, some inner spring compressing tighter and tighter. Squeezing her eyes shut, she panted. Craving his teeth.

  The thought of his bite sent another shiver of sheer lust through her, a driving hunger for that thick, flushed cock.

  His arms tightened around her thighs, and she dug her bare heels harder against his muscled back. Pulling him closer, increasing the pressure of his tongue against her pussy and clit.

  But it wasn’t enough. She wanted him, and she wanted him now. “God, Nathan, fuck me!”

  His only response was a dark, rumbling chuckle against slick folds.

  The vibration was maddening. Rachel writhed against him, deliberately grinding, until she began to feel the hot tensing that signaled the beginning of an orgasm. She gasped, reflexively reaching out, meaning to grab his short hair in one hand.

  A male hand closed around her wrist before she could get a grip, pushed it down to the fur, and pinned it there. Nathan’s tongue licked and swirled, urging the maddening sensations even higher. She writhed, unable to stop herself. Close, so close…

  “Nathan…” She gasped it, desperate, begging.

  The hand around her leg released it, reached up her body, and found her nipple. He began to squeeze and milk and twist it, every stroke sending another stab of delight through her. Built her lust even more.

  “Nathan!” Need made the word so high-pitched, it was almost a whine. “Fuck me, you sadistic son of a bitch!”

  He lifted his head and shot her a glittering stare. “That is not the way you talk to me.” The naked menace in his voice somehow aroused her even more.

  Vampire Trinity notwithstanding, she’d had no idea she was this kinky.

  Abruptly he released her wrists to land astride her like a cat pouncing on a catnip mouse. She didn’t quite suppress her yelp.

  Nathan loomed over her his eyes glittering, broad shoulders blocking the light as he sat back on his heels and took his thick cock in hand. “Do you want this?”