Magic After Dark Boxed Set (Six Book Bundle)

by Deanna Chase

  “Ugh,” was the only reply I could give.

  “It’s serious stuff. We put out our hello sign; suffice it to say he never put out his. I went to find you, but you weren’t there.” The engine purred as we neared the turnoff.

  Simon gave me his full attention. “Are you hurt?” The steering wheel felt the pain of his grip as he whispered under his breath, “Limey bastard. I hope he throttles him good.” He gave a sideways glance and reached out with his hand and touched my head, taking away my pain with a bit of light. “Better?”

  “Miles,” I replied.

  When we pulled up to the entrance, I opened my door and fell onto the ground. I was exhausted from the flashing and still mildly drunk. Staring up at the sky, my view was eclipsed by a shadow as I focused my eyes. I saw leather pants that went right up to the heavens.

  No wait, that was Simon.

  “You’re so pretty.” I smiled.

  He put his hands on his hips. “Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you.”

  “Sure, sure.” I waved an arm and rolled over to push myself up. I felt as heavy as a ton of lead.

  He curled his arms around my waist and tugged me gently to my feet. “Upsy daisy. You handled yourself well—fast.”

  “Not fast enough.”

  “You’re also pissed. That was impressive, Learner. Someone as young as you? I’d love to see what you can do sober.”

  “I could have taken that guy, you know,” I mumbled as he carried me more than I walked.

  “Of course, love. That’s a pretty thick head you’ve got.”

  “So I hear.”

  My eyes lifted from the uneven ground at the dark woods. The air had an icy, wet flavor to it that hinted another snow was coming. It didn’t snow much where I was from, but the scent of snow left quite an impression.

  “Why is he such a jerk?”

  “Responsibility? He’s not used to it. He’s never been a Ghuardian, nor had to live with a woman. Justus is in a pressure cooker because he’s a perfectionist. You are a reflection of him; I suppose he thinks if he’s not hard enough on you then he’ll have failed.”

  A twig snapped beneath our feet.

  “I take it his maker was not a woman.” I laughed sleepily.

  “And where is yours?”

  His voice softened a bit, suggesting he knew there was more to my story. Maybe he knew it, maybe he didn’t. But whatever the truth was, I kept silent.

  We approached the entrance and he lifted a hatch in the ground that looked like it had grass, leaves, and dirt glued on top of it. I stared down the dark hole.

  “How did he get all his furniture down there?” I gave a quizzical stare and put my hand on my hip.

  “You should see what he can do with a ship and a glass bottle.”

  I drew in a sharp inhale and sneezed. “Great, now I’m sick.”

  Simon laughed lightly. “That’s one thing you won’t have to worry about again. Mage do not get sick unless you count the occasional indigestion. That, unfortunately, we can do nothing about.”

  “You mean I can’t catch a cold?” I rubbed at my nose.

  “Our bodies do not respond to nor carry disease or viruses. I guess Justus taught you about our healing but failed to mention that part.”

  Another sneeze escaped. “So then why am I sneezing?” I felt a rub of worry, wondering if maybe certain things didn’t apply to me.

  Simon merely snatched my nose between his fingers and mused, “Because it tickles, love.”

  My boot gripped the thin metal rungs and I nervously lowered myself down the hatch.

  “Get a good grip now, careful.”

  I went one step at a time with a blind foot reaching for the next narrow step; without a light it was impossible to see.

  “Does Justus own this land?”

  “Not entirely.” His voice echoed in the room below. “Technically most of us don’t own our own land. It’s owned by the Mageri who controls our properties. It’s a convenience, really. They manage all the goodies like taxes and securing the adjacent land from companies building a department store or gas station.”

  My heel slipped and I lost my grip, scrambling for the rungs as I fell back.

  I freefell into the darkness and when I hit the ground—landing directly on my foot—I screamed. My body instinctively curled up and I held my leg, growling in pain.

  There was an audible stomp and Simon knelt at my side. His hand lightly brushed over my face as if he were assessing my injuries based on my expression alone.

  I guess it told him enough.

  “Take my neck.” He pulled my arm over his shoulder and lifted me into his arms. “Let’s get you inside and take a look.”

  “Can’t he get a freaking elevator?” I yelled out, biting down on his leather jacket as hard as I could. I kept my teeth clamped firmly until we made it to the bedroom where he laid me down on the bed—the one I never slept in—the bed I had nicknamed Goliath because of its monstrosity. The sheets never had to be changed because they were untouched. I preferred the red sofa chair against the wall.

  Pain radiated up my leg with every beat of my heart.

  “I need to remove your boot.” He stretched his fingers nervously. “It’s on tight; it’ll hurt,” he warned.

  “Just do it,” I breathed, throwing a pillow over my face. With a quick tug, he jerked it free and I screamed.

  Slowly, my knee-high stocking was peeled off and my entire body shuddered. A tolerance to pain was something that I had been working on, but I was always prepared for it during our sessions. Here, I was not.

  I slid the pillow away to watch, and the candles put out a dim glow in the room. I doubted under the circumstances he was looking up my skirt, but I felt a hint of embarrassment nevertheless.

  Simon held my ankle gently in his hands while the slow rise of power transferred from his fingers to my leg. His eyes remained fixed and concentrated. The healing was not really painful, just a sensation of heat and blissful numbness.

  I sighed—hell, I think I groaned—in relief. “Was it broken?”

  “Doesn’t matter now,” he said.

  Once residual waves of pain subsided, it occurred to me that Simon wasn’t pulling back. The sensation changed to something completely unfamiliar as his energy spread up my thighs and a gasp escaped my lips.

  Desire heated me unexpectedly—as if everything I felt at the dance club was magnified times twenty.

  Confused by my reaction, I looked down at Simon, expecting he would be laughing at me. Instead, my gaze was met with one of attraction and a flush of heat licked across my chest.

  “The male on the dance floor tonight…” he said, stroking my ankle tenderly. My brows joined together in a display of confusion, only I wasn’t as confused by his comment so much as his thumb sliding up my leg.

  “You can’t do that with humans.”

  He climbed on the bed, blanketing my legs, hands on either side, prowling up my body with the gaze of a predator. Simon’s eyes pulsed with light and I fell into their trance.

  “Do what?” I whispered.

  Leather pants stroked the outside of my legs. His hands seductively flirted with my hips, my breast, and my arm until he slowly opened my fingers.

  Simon straddled me, bent forward. His palms rubbed against mine and the motion was so frictional that I held my breath. This was not like any other energy exchange I had experienced.

  “Touch,” he answered

  Jesus, I had forgotten the question.

  “You’re a Mage now; you can only touch your own kind when you’re charged up that way.”

  “Wait,” I said in a scared voice. Simon silently turned his head to the side, continuing to rub our palms. Whatever I felt was instinctive; I wasn’t supposed to restrain this. It wasn’t light Simon was coaxing out of me… it was sexual energy.

  “No waiting,” he said in slow breaths. “Only doing.”

  I took the weight of Simon’s body and felt him everywher
e. His muscles tightened when I slid my hand beneath the leather coat and stroked the skin under his shirt. With a slight shake of his shoulders and a quick motion, the coat hit the floor.

  I always hated obstacles.

  My eyes made love with the shape of his lips, the way they parted. Simon had the sexiest mouth I had ever seen on a man and I wanted to kiss him.

  But those lips disappeared when he nestled into my neck and began kissing his way up my jaw.

  Need prickled throughout my body and I turned my head so he could continue on the other side. My receptiveness further aroused him, evident from the sudden grinding motion against my thigh.

  “You feel so good,” I whispered.

  Hair scented with male spices tumbled onto my cheeks, but Simon had a subtle smell of cinnamon.

  He enveloped me with his body and touched my hand tenderly as his energy began pouring into me like liquid lightning.

  “Oh, God!” I exclaimed, feeling as if I might fall over the edge.

  I felt everything—his raw desire coursing through me with such penetration that I was writhing beneath him.

  “I’ve never done this before.” It sounded so juvenile, but this transference was so distinctly intimate that it scared me.

  My body felt as though we were already in the act of sex and neither one of us had removed our clothes. I knew this had to be something normal, and yet Justus had failed to explain any of it to me.

  Was I doing it all wrong?

  “What haven’t you done?”

  I squeezed his hand and Simon went cold. The connection stopped.

  I opened my eyes with regret for having confessed such a thing and saw something in his eyes—judgment? apprehension?—I wasn’t sure.

  “I thought you’d been with him this way.”

  He must have known we weren’t together in the other way—the way he was going if he slid a few more inches lower.

  My fingers ran over his shoulder, which was heated and sticky. I liked the feel of him, the smell.

  I shook my head and Simon was searching for a decision on where this was heading. I was feeling the flickering flames start to recede and I was afraid he would stop.

  “Is this something you can do with just anyone?” I asked.

  “Binding doesn’t have to mean sex, but if I find out that you’re going around doing this with other Mage, I’m going to hunt down those men and tie them to a flagpole, do you understand? This is not something you should give so freely; it’s as intimate as sex itself.” He sighed. “I didn’t know it was your first time. I don’t think I should be the one… it’s too intense and—”

  “Simon?”

  He stilled at hearing his name. Inner conflict flashed across his face, so I reached around and locked my hand across the back of his upper thigh and pulled him hard enough that his hips sank into mine. Hot, tight leather pressed so sweetly against me and my thumb traced the line of his lower lip.

  “You owe me on that bet, Simon. But you can keep your money—I want a kiss.”

  The inner conflict abruptly ended when I had his mouth on mine.

  Simon kissed with such fervor that every part of me stirred and I felt myself moving all over. Our tongues twined so slow and deeply—coaxing all kinds of suggestions about what needed to happen in the lower half—that a primal moan rumbled through his chest.

  If that man worked his sex half as good as his tongue, I was in for a hell of a night.

  In my past I had never been an aggressive lover; my ex didn’t like it. He thought a submissive woman was a loyal one. Simon was inviting me to take some control, so when our hands locked together I gripped him firmly by the hair with my other hand as he poured is energy into me.

  Finally, I no longer held back. I reciprocated.

  The moment my energy was returned, his teeth nipped my bottom lip and his head jerked back.

  “Shit!” he cursed.

  We were finally fluid. Connected. The energy swelled between us in waves. It was perhaps the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced to that point.

  “Christ, Learner, you’re different,” he breathed. “This is not like anything—”

  I closed my fingers around his, arching my hips upward. He let out a moan and I felt every inch of his want pressing against me.

  And oh god, how he wanted.

  “You are…” He continued to kiss along my neck before he met my eyes and watched them with trepidation. “…a Unique.”

  I licked my lips and that drew his hungry eyes back to my mouth.

  “Let me show you, love.” He cupped his hands over mine and focused heavily on my eyes. “We call this binding.”

  Simon rolled through me like a psychic massage in every facet of my being. I twisted beneath him and felt his clever hands slide under my skirt, tugging at my panties until they were off. This time I wore the thin lacy kind, special night out and all. No intention that by the end of the night hands other than mine would be removing them.

  I was out of breath, still charged from the exchange, when Simon moved down the bed and kissed my leg with long, slow licks. I trembled as his pierced tongue stroked along my inner thigh.

  Clothes never felt more confining.

  His fingers playfully slipped beneath my shirt and made small circles over my bra. Simon was releasing small increments of his light when he touched me that way, making me even more sensitive to his touch.

  I stroked his arm, encouraging him to do more—I wanted his hands all over me.

  “Don’t stop,” I begged.

  “Now, why would I stop? I’m barely getting warmed up.” Simon chuckled.

  The deep shadow of his dimple formed when he looked up at me—god, how I adored that small feature over anything else. Charming, sexual, and mischievous all managed to wrap itself up in that little indentation. Every person has that one thing about them, so small that it defines them. For Simon—that was it.

  He sat up and scooped me into his arms, sliding me over his lap. I straddled him and spread soft kisses across his eyes and rocked my hips forward. His chin lowered to the opening of my blouse and he pressed a long kiss.

  “You taste as sweet as you look,” he said, tongue tracing lower until it found that annoying fabric of my bra.

  Simon could have torn my clothes off in five seconds and I would have been game, but he took slow seduction to a whole new level. We were drunk with spirits and energy, and the rest of the world melted away.

  My fingers curled around the leather collar on his neck and pulled away the latch, sliding it free and tossing it aside on the bed.

  I never imagined myself with someone like him; Simon was unlike anyone I had ever met. It felt decadent, as if I were indulging in a sinful chocolate that I knew was bad for me.

  My lips, my tongue, and my teeth staked their claim on his shoulder—and he hissed as his fingers bit into my skin desperately.

  I was actually affected by his desire for me. It was a game to see who could arouse the other more, and who could show the most restraint. I caught this in his gazes—his smirks—when he did something that stimulated me and how I behaved. It was competitive, and my will was collapsing.

  I just wanted to pass Go and collect my two hundred dollars. Simon wanted to take his time shopping for property.

  His fingers unfastened the buttons of my blouse. “Darling, I fear I might tear this if it stays on any longer.”

  When my breathing became erratic with the sound of each button snapping free, my hips glided up and stroked the length of his sex through those tight leathers.

  “What about these?”

  Simon’s eyes rolled back and I had a “gotcha” moment. Point to me.

  He opened my shirt and let his hands float over my skin, but refused to touch it. Damn him, he was still playing the game. I followed my basic instincts and arched my spine and threw my head back.

  “Christ, love, you’re killing me,” he groaned. I sat up and winked; I could be just as good at this game.
r />   His hands moved beneath my skirt in the back, rubbing.

  I never quite gave much thought to nuzzling, but when his mouth pressed against my neck and he moved his chin to do just that, it tickled something very primal in me that I couldn’t resist. It was as if another part of me was alive and yet suppressed, trying to get noticed.

  Instinctively, I rubbed my body against his like a cat marking its territory. It roused a startled look on his face and Simon threw back his head. “Why did you just do that?”

  “Doesn’t feel good?” I did it again and his voice cracked as our eyes drank each other in.

  “I like, I like. It just reminded me of something. Never mind.”

  “You like to take your time,” I said observantly.

  He wiggled an eyebrow. “I never did like fast food.”

  His velvety touch found the tender spot where my legs joined my body and began rubbing in suggestive motions. Some circles were wider than others—sliding that finger into dangerous territory and reminding me that there was nothing between us except his leather pants and fifty tons of willpower.

  If his willpower didn’t give soon I was going to shred those leathers.

  “Simon,” I panted, “I want more.”

  Any restraint he had was eaten up by carnal desire. Simon suddenly switched gears and went into reverse as I was lifted up and thrust back onto the bed with him on top.

  His hips rocked into mine, pressing urgently, while his tongue made long stroking promises in a deep, hard kiss. It wasn’t until my fingers wandered to the waistline of his leather pants and laced the edges of his skin underneath that my question of boxers or briefs was answered.

  Simon went commando.

  He cupped my face in his hands and pressed our cheeks together as he whispered to himself, “I want your name.”

  He was frustrated as the only name I went by was Learner.

  “Simon, tonight I’d be happy if you’d just call me lover.”

  He rolled over, pulling me on top of him, lifting my skirt…

  And then a door slammed.

  Simon tossed me over like a hot potato and flashed into the hall. The sudden rush of air sent all the candles to tremble in terror. I jumped to my feet in stunned disbelief and began brushing my skirt down. My shirt was wide open and I had enough time to pull it together. I cringed as the heavy footsteps approached my open door.