Finished with his questioning for now, Mace set the thermos inside the door and then locked Knox in once more.
On their way out, Cora mused, “I’m surprised he didn’t try to escape.”
“I don’t think he’s sure what to make of Meeka. And besides, he knows I’d have shot him if he tried.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t really stop your kind.”
“Hurts like hell though. Especially when the bullets get stuck and we have to work them out on our own. And a straight shot to the brainpan would have dropped him for a decent amount of time.”
When they made their way through the kitchen passage and the hidden panel slid closed behind them, disappearing seamlessly into the wall, Mace said, “Thank you for trying.”
Before them, Meeka slipped into her kitten form. Strangely, it was like watching a balloon deflate. Then she trotted to her empty food bowl and planted her little butt expectantly.
“Do you believe him?” Cora asked Mace as she retrieved a small tin of cat food from the cabinet, pulled the tab to open it, and filled Meeka’s bowl.
He paused thoughtfully. “I’d like to say I believe him, but…I’m not sure.”
She hesitated. “Why do you want to so badly? What’s up with the two of you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I feel like there’s a history here I should know about.”
His eyes tightened and something inscrutable slid behind them. Again, that guilt trickled out of him and into her.
“Let’s just say I owe him,” he said simply, and then turned away.
Chapter 34
Over the next week, Mace refused to expound on his comment about owing Knox, and eventually Cora grew tired of inquiring. Instead, she returned to her studies while he resumed his investigation.
Seated alone in the living room, sunlight streaming through the front windows, she opened A Witch’s Guide to Demons, Vampires, and Other Supernatural Entities and began reading the chapter Ghosts, Ghouls, and Corporeal Entities. The shadowy figure had revealed itself once more. Again while she’d slept, it had hovered at the end of the bed. When she informed Mace the next morning, he wasn’t sure what to think, stating, “It’s not my area.”
Knox’s “assignment” apparently had something to do with the ghost, but he refused to enlighten them. Even when Mace threatened to stop his feedings by way of Cora’s blood, which, to her relief, had been reduced to weekly rather than daily. Bloodletting wasn’t one of her favorite activities.
In any case, it was time she determined what the specter was, and what she could do about it, if anything.
She ruled out ghoul instantly. They were said to wander graveyards and feast on the dead. Yuck. Poltergeist was a possibility. They were spirits who haunt a particular place, or in some cases, a particular human. However, poltergeists were usually unruly, malicious, and troublesome, throwing objects and frightening the living with various tricks. Demon was out as well. Spectral demons were decidedly evil and often tried to possess the living for the purpose of doing evil. Interestingly enough, non-spectral demons could not possess the living as they are already connected to a living form.
It looked like her shadowy figure was an ordinary run-of-the-mill ghost. A benevolent spirit stuck between realms, unable to pass over for one reason or another.
Making contact with a ghost was another matter. Often, communicating with one could prove difficult, according to the book. Some people were born with the talent, such as mediums, lower cast witches who, by popular opinion, were considered little more than gifted humans. For others, a séance or ritual might work in forcing the spirit to move on. More powerful witches could conduct a spell to bring out a ghost’s corporeal form. However, in extreme cases, exorcism is required.
Cora didn’t think this was an extreme case, but then, she wasn’t much of an expert.
Her mind drifted to Saraphine, the only other witch she knew. She wished she could go to her for help in this matter, but decided against it. Saraphine wouldn’t want to see her. Not after the baleful look Cora had been subject to upon exiting Wicked Wares. There was no doubt Saraphine blamed her for her grandmother’s death.
In part, Cora blamed herself.
She set the book down and exchanged it for Quick Spells for the Witch on the Go, flipping through the pages. When she’d scanned it the first time, she’d thought she’d come across…ah, there it was. A spell to briefly merge realms and speak with the deceased. And it looked simple enough. Aside from the incantation, all she required was a dark space, a white candle, and a mirror.
When she informed Mace of her plan, he insisted on being present “Just in case,” although he couldn’t put voice to his reservations. Just said, “It sounds creepy.”
She had to concur, but the creep factor didn’t overpower her interest in the prospective results. Might she actually speak with a ghost? Provide assistance to a restless soul who needlessly clung to life? Acquire definitive proof that life did not end with death?
Excitement welled.
She wanted to start the spell now, but they waited till nightfall as the book recommended. Apparently, ghosts became more active after sunset. She found herself checking the time constantly. She’d already memorized the incantation, had her items at the ready, had picked the mirror in which to gaze—the eclectic, almost antique-looking round hanging mirror that decorated the upstairs hallway.
Finally, the day relented and darkness conquered the sky. Mace joined her in the hall. He offered an encouraging kiss before he stood back against the opposite wall and crossed his arms. She sparked the wick of her white candle, clasped it in her hands away from her torso, and fixed her eyes on her reflection. The incantation came on a whisper at first. After a few repetitions, her tone grew stronger, emboldened.
She didn’t know how long she stood there, chanting away, but at some point, her vision grew unfocused, darkening around the edges, while the words began to run together, their meaning melting away. A shiver eased up her spine and snaked along her neck, finding its way through the back of her head. She thought the surface of the mirror rippled then.
Was it her imagination?
There! It rippled again, this time with more kick. Then again. She almost expected to hear a splash. Inky blackness expanded from the center till her reflection was painted the color of volcanic rock.
And again, another ripple shivered over the surface…
But this time the watery substance broke. Something appeared as if from the other side. A set of black charred fingers emerged, nails the color of blood so accurate in shade she imagined they could drip at any moment. The hand was followed by a thin, bony wrist.
Cora was enthralled. The incantation still flowed effortlessly from her lips. The candle suddenly burned hotter, the flame higher. The mysterious hand reached for her. She stretched her arm toward it.
A pressure came around her waist. Her body was ripped backwards, the candle slapped away. The flame extinguished as it tumbled to the ground.
Her vision cleared, and she found herself clutched tightly in Mace’s arms as he whisked her downstairs.
“What are you doing?” she demanded as he lowered her to her feet next to the sofa.
“You reached for it.” His voice sounded strangled.
“I what? No I didn’t.”
“You did. The mirror was writhing, churning like a violent ocean, and you reached into it.” He put her at arm’s length to examine her. His expression spurred her heart rate into a hard beat. He was utterly freaked.
“I didn’t reach in. Something reached out.”
His head shook vigorously. “I don’t want you doing that again. Do you hear me?”
She frowned. “But—”
“At least not until you’ve been trained properly.”
Her shoulders slumped. “And who’s going to train me? Do you have any witchy friends who will look past this mess with Knox?”
“No, but Trent might know someone. People tend to
owe him favors.”
Cora sighed, dejected. “Alright.”
In gratitude, Mace ran the backs of his fingers along her jawline and then dipped his head to claim her lips with his. She wasted no time deepening the kiss, inviting his tongue to find hers. With a few quick flicks, he had her panting for something more substantial.
As if reading her perfectly, which was probably the case, he reached for the hem of her shirt and guided the material over her head. Her delicate lace bra fell to the floor next. With a groan, he covered one breast with his big hand as he held her close to him by the waist and his mouth descended once more to hers, this time with more force.
As his kiss made her mindless with the ease of an expert, her hands moved to undo his jeans and free his shaft. Hot flesh as hard as steel met her palm. She pumped her fist to the hilt and back. He shuddered at her touch. She thought he growled something in another language but didn’t have the brainpower to ask what it meant.
He shoved her jeans and panties down her thighs, settled her back onto the couch, knelt, and then lifted her knees over his shoulders. When his hot tongue delved into her tender flesh, she tossed her head back as a guttural sound of pleasure was forced from somewhere deep inside her. Another followed as he sucked her clitoris between his lips, all the while his hands traveled the length of her body, over her hips, her thighs, her belly, teasing the undersides of her breasts.
Her release came hard and fast, blanking her mind with agonizingly sweet ecstasy. Relentlessly, Mace’s tongue caressed her core till she was on the verge again. Her head thrashed from the building pressure, her breaths coming in short pants interrupted by long moans. Just as she readied for the onslaught, Mace pulled away with a wicked gleam in his eyes, his fangs peeking out from under his upper lips.
Cora squirmed, taken over by demanding need as her orgasm was thwarted. Mace laughed at her dour expression, even as a jittery feeling still fluttered over the back of his neck.
That scene in the hallway had been more than he’d expected. Her entire hand had literally disappeared into a black abyss kept at bay by the mirror’s frame.
He feared Cora was taking her magic too far, too fast.
“You find that funny, do you?” she purred, turning impish. She licked her lips. His cock grew impossibly hard at the sight.
She pulled her right leg back, placed the ball of her food on his chest, and pushed against him. He raised a brow, but followed her direction, rising to stand. She slid off the couch to her knees and then ruthlessly sucked his girth into her mouth. His head fell back on a rough groan, and his hips jutted forward.
Not wanting to miss a second of her attentions, he forced his eyes back to watch as her plump lips took him to the root and then slowly pulled to the tip, sucking as she went.
“Fuck, Cora! You’ll make me come in no time if you keep that up.”
She smiled up at him devilishly. With no sign of mercy, she drew him in again, deeper than he imagined she could go. His body shook with the threat of a burgeoning explosion, but he held back.
Her tongue lashed him as she began pumping steadily. Lightning rods of pleasure spiked through his brain, making him delirious. When he felt his release creeping up his length, he stepped back.
She glanced up at him with confusion, which turned to apprehension at his fierce expression. “What is it?” she asked nervously.
He couldn’t imagine what she saw in his features, but he knew what he was feeling. The desperate need to pin her down, drive into her, and pierce her flesh with his fangs as he released into her soft body.
So not to frighten her by his vampiric nature, he fiercely tamed the intensity. Still, with one arm, he shoved the sofa away to make room for them on the floor. It slid back with a bit too much force and collided with the bookcase against the wall. A few books tumbled down.
Cora jumped and let out a small squeak, her eyes going wide. He was almost too consumed by his need to care, but he made a herculean effort. As he lowered his body to cover hers, nestling himself between her legs, he warned. “I want you now, love. I want to take you hard, here on the floor. I can’t be gentle right now. I need you to understand that.”
Her throat worked on a gulp, but, thankfully, after a couple tight breaths, she nodded.
He gripped her hips, his fingers digging in. He thought she might have winced at the pressure but couldn’t be sure if it was because of that or because, in the next instant, he shoved deep into her warm flesh.
Her gasp mingled with his groan. Only a heartbeat passed before he pulled back and invaded her again, harder, deeper. And then again. A frenzied rhythm soon took over, his mind no longer stunted by rational thought. All sense of civility had been ripped away, overtaken by savaged desperation.
At this moment, he was pure instinct, carnal need, unrelenting desire, unquenchable thirst, and undying hunger. He slammed into her, riveted by the way her breasts bounced by the force of his actions. As her cries grew into rapturous screams, and an underline worry that he’d hurt her eased in his gut. Her nails scored his back, drawing blood. Drops of it trickle down his sides.
His fangs throbbed painfully.
As if she’d read his mind, she brushed aside her hair.
He plunged his fangs through the soft flesh at the crook of her neck. Flawless, untainted, concentrated bliss assailed him, stunning him with its overwhelming power. There wasn’t a single part of him that didn’t bow to its authority, give in to its rule. As his seed burst forth and he lost himself in her flesh, a simple truth branded into his mind. He was no longer the proprietor of his own life.
He now belonged to Cora.
Chapter 35
Cora lay under Mason’s quivering body gasping for air and trying to regain a sense of equilibrium. She was dizzy from the overdose of pleasure that had accompanied his carnal taking.
“Did I harm you?” he asked next to her ear. He was hunched over, clutching her to him, his breaths as harsh as her own.
She ran her fingernails through the dark hair at his nape. “No, but I’m sure I’ll have trouble walking for a while after that.”
He exhaled as his form relaxed. His lips come down over the spot where he’d bitten her. The action was so tender she almost couldn’t stand it. She’d never before felt emotions like the ones rolling off him now. They were so raw, so piercing; she didn’t know what to make of it. The sheer magnitude of them was frightening.
As if she’d known how to do it all along, she slammed a mental barrier down between them. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to experience his feelings. It’s just that it was almost more than she could bear. Crushingly so. The excessive intensity threatened to tear her apart from the inside.
Mace didn’t appear to notice her blockade. Good. She wasn’t ready to discuss the extremeness of what was happening between them. It was all too much too soon. She’d met him not even two full months ago.
Exhaustion crept over her, and she yawned.
As if she’d issued an order, Mace rose and then lifted her in his arms to carry her to their room. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, taking in his scent and daring to admit one thing to herself: judging by the budding strength of her feelings for Mace, one thing was certain….
She had never really loved Winston.
After Mace tucked her into bed, he collapsed beside her and soon began a slow rhythmic breathing. How was it men could always fall asleep so quickly?
She watched him for a long while, running her gaze along the perfectly sculpted planes of his face, his hard, yet tender-to-the-touch lips. He really was a stunning specimen of masculinity. My stunning specimen of masculinity.
She didn’t bother to fight the small grin that slipped over her mouth. Her eyelids drooped.
Before she closed them completely, a dark movement brought her attention to the foot of the bed.
The shadowy figure was back.
Only this time, it was slightly more visible, more solidified. The edges were no longer a mist
y tempest, but a vaguely blurred outline in the shape of a human.
Stabbing fear had her freezing into place, her body stiffening. Her mind flailed frantically when she realized it wasn’t fear that rendered her motionless, but something else. Flat on her back, she couldn’t move. She couldn’t even use her lungs to scream, only to breathe.
The darkness crawled over her, creeping like an intelligent creature, hovering inches from her impossibly wide eyes. Though she surveyed nothing but a dark vortex of tightly packed mist, she got the horrific impression that it was looking back at her…and smiling.
If Mace sensed her terror, it wasn’t enough to wake him. Was her wall still up?
The apparition closed in. Icy air surrounded her, coating her lungs with a layer of frost. When she exhaled, condensation wafted out in a tiny cloud, dissipating swiftly. The dark creature sank lower, till it lightly brushed her skin, and then sank farther still, past her flesh, into her heart, her mind. The pressure wasn’t painful, but it was distressing as hell. Like being compressed to death with no ability to stop it, and yet not feeling a thing. The specter breached her very essence, invading, shoving her consciousness into a dark corner somewhere deep inside and effortlessly locking her there.
Her surge of unmitigated hysteria was the very antithesis of her body’s calming reaction. Her heart slowed to its normal speed, her tense limbs eased against her will.
Then, without her approval, she sat up. Her feet slipped over the edge of the mattress, landing softly on carpet. Next, her body eased out from under the covers, taking care not to disturb Mace, before skulking into the hallway and down the stairs.
Cora squirmed in protest when she realized where her hijacker was taking her. No, no, no. Are you crazy?
If whoever was now in control heard her, they didn’t respond.
The panel opened. She entered the darkened cavern moments before the torches burst to life. Her hijacker didn’t slow, heading straight for the fissure that marked the entrance.
A Wicked Hunger (Creatures of Darkness 1) Page 27
