Dukes Are Forever

by Bec McMaster

  Giving him a wicked smile, she bound one of his arms to the chair with his cravat, and the other with the tie on her robe. His breath came a little more harshly.

  "If you have some idea of rousing me like this and then leaving me here, I warn you to think again," he growled, a little flustered by the vulnerability of the situation.

  He was always the seducer.

  Never the seduced.

  "Why ever would I leave you here when I have you at my mercy?"

  At my mercy....

  Bound to the chair.

  This was not to be borne.

  And yet....

  He couldn't deny he was curious as to her full intentions. "I could free myself if I wanted."

  "I know," she teased, as she went to her knees before him. "But are you sure you want to?"

  No. No, he was not.

  "Tell me to stop." Sliding her hands between his knees, Adele pushed them wide. And then her palms were skating up the inside of his thighs, thumbs digging into the muscle there. "Tell me to go back to bed. Tell me you don't want this. Me."

  It made him feel a little vulnerable, which was ridiculous.

  He could read her intentions, after all.

  But he'd never given himself over into another's hands.

  "I want this. I want you."

  Adele's wicked green eyes promised a wealth of pleasure ahead of him as she settled between his parted legs. Those deft thumbs found the firm outline of his engorged cock, and then she was stroking up the length of him, eyeing the hard length of his cock with a curiosity that made him ache.

  "I had been doing a little bit of research before I realized you thought me a spy. I was planning on starting a new campaign against you. But all my knowledge is purely theoretical." Her eyes laughed at him as she found the placket on his breeches and freed the last button. "You'll allow me to indulge, I'm sure?"

  "It will be my pleasure."

  His cock sprang free, slapping against the hard planes of his stomach. The widening of her eyes almost made him smile. This was the Adele he was most curious about: the one who shed her untouchable exterior and revealed a softness that both intrigued and surprised him.

  It was also the Adele that threatened him the most.

  Because he should not be curious about her.

  He should not yearn to unearth her so often.

  Adele reached out and traced down the thick, veined length of him. She gripped him with curious fingers.

  "Harder," he breathed, and she tightened her grip obediently.

  She rewarded him with a smooth stroke, and he told her how to continue. Her fingers curled around him, her eyes a promise of ruin and sin. Up and down, until his lip curled up and he gasped through clenched teeth.

  He couldn't restrain himself then. He closed his eyes and sank back into the chair, leaving her to it.

  And then there was something wet and hot circling the head of his cock, the weight of her hair tickling his hip.

  Malloryn looked down in shock, every ridge of his abdomen standing out in stark relief. Adele's lips were wrapped around him, all plump and pink, and he could feel the rasp of her tongue flicking up beneath the swollen head of him. Tasting that salty bead of him.

  Fuck.

  He tossed his head back, hands sinking into the chair. Urging her lower. Lower. Telling her to replace her hand with her mouth, until he thrust up into her throat, encouraging her to fuck his cock. Harsh, panted demands as he fought to keep his hands in place.

  The heat of it hit him suddenly.

  The room swam with shadows, and he realized the hunger had risen, stealing all the color from the world. Making its own pressing demands on his flesh.

  "It's all right, Malloryn," Adele whispered, her warm breath stirring over his wet cock as she drew back with a low, smoky laugh. "Just close your eyes and think of England."

  And then her head lowered again, her blonde curls bobbing over his lap as the heat of her suction enveloped him, clamping around his prick with devastating consequences.

  A shiver of pleasure licked its way up his spine.

  Fuck.

  "That's enough," he rasped.

  As if to defy him, her lips lingered, her tongue stroking slowly up the back of his shaft and caressing the arrow-shaped groove beneath the head of his cock.

  "Adele." Part growl. Part plea.

  And she bloody well laughed, her mouth vibrating around his swollen prick.

  He was seconds away from spilling. Moments away from losing all sense of control.

  His right hand tore free from her makeshift binding and Malloryn captured a fistful of her hair, lifting her away from her enthusiastic ministrations and dragging her up to meet him.

  Capturing her mouth in a slow, drugging kiss, he tightened his fingers in her hair, and steadily tugged.

  Adele was forced to either crawl into his lap or fall to her knees.

  "Think of England," he growled as he captured a handful of silk nightgown and ass. "I swear to God you're going to be the death of me."

  Then he was hauling her into his lap, pressing her thighs on either side of his. He claimed her mouth, breathing hard. Adele wound her arms around his neck with a low moan, and he ground her hips against his.

  Kissing her, long and slow, he gripped both edges of her nightgown and tore it right down the middle.

  "Malloryn!" A gasp.

  Another jerk, and all that lovely skin was bare to his gaze, to his touch. Pushing the remnants from her shoulders, he watched as silk pooled in a mess about her waist.

  Then his hands were back on her, brushing the long blonde curls over her shoulder so her breasts were no longer hidden.

  It was a delight to behold.

  Adele had been made for a man's gaze. She was all smooth curves and pale, creamy skin. Capturing a handful of her bottom, he lifted her toward him, his mouth clamping over the hardened nub of her nipple. Adele gasped, her fingers sliding through his hair.

  "Are you wet?" he demanded, drawing back with a harsh breath.

  Adele sank her teeth into her swollen lower lip as she dug her nails into his shoulders. "Yes."

  "Good."

  He thrust up into her, and her eyes widened. Then she was throwing her head back and sinking down on him, the hot clamp of her flesh sending him right to the edge again.

  "Like this," he whispered, leaning his head back against the chair and watching as he guided her to rise and fall.

  There was something to be said for letting her find her own stride.

  Languid pleasure made her eyelashes flutter as she bit her lip and rode him. Adele threw her head back, her hips rolling as he found the spot inside her that made her quiver.

  Blood and ashes, she was perfect.

  He licked his thumb and slid it between them, finding the seat of her pleasure. Instantly, she clenched around him. Adele's fingers dug into his biceps.

  He licked the sweat from her throat, teeth grazing sweet skin as she moaned.

  "Malloryn!"

  "What's wrong?" he purred.

  Nothing was wrong. He could feel her body trembling and couldn't resist pressing his lips to the flickering vein in her throat. He held himself there, right on the edge of danger, forcing himself to control the beast inside him. It wanted blood. Wanted to claim her in every way possible. A savage, irrepressible part of himself he'd never known existed.

  "Oh, God." She arched her spine. Begged him. "Auvry!"

  Adele came apart in his arms, a soft cry escaping her as she clutched at his shoulders. Malloryn slowly stroked his palms up and down her spine as her heartbeat raced.

  He needed the respite. He was so close to spilling it wasn't amusing.

  But Adele wasn't done yet.

  "How do you always managed to turn the tables on me?" she gasped.

  He laughed.

  "This time I will not be thwarted," she said in a determined voice as she began to ride him again.

  "Faster," he urged, fingers clamping around her hips
.

  Her eyes locked on his. "But you're not the one in control."

  It was a devilish smile on her lips.

  Taking his hands, she set them quite firmly on the arms of the chair. "Don't move," she whispered. "This is my moment. I want to bring the Duke of Malloryn to his knees."

  "Think you can?"

  His gaze was on hers as she rose up and down, glorying in this moment.

  His fingers locked around the ends of the armchair. Oh, God. He wanted to reach for her, wanted to urge her faster. Heat flashed behind his eyelids as he threw his head back.

  And then soft lips were at his throat as her hips rolled, grinding against him, clenching hard.

  He broke his promise as he came, one hand lashing out and clutching at her. More. Harder. He thrust up into her, blunt teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her shoulder. Ecstasy pulsed through him, and he gave himself over to her, spilling deep inside her.

  Panting hard, he dragged her against his chest as she wilted against him. Their heartbeats merged as Adele pressed her forehead against the crook of his throat.

  A quiet moment, eased by the caress of his hand down her bare skin as they both came back down from the heavens.

  She shivered, her body clenching around him, and Malloryn shifted.

  Good lord. There was a smile on his lips as he slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't help himself.

  "What's wrong?" Adele demanded, slowly lifting her head from his shoulder as if she sensed his smile.

  Malloryn shook his head.

  Everything.

  "You've ruined my study for me," he told her, "and now this.... How the hell am I supposed to focus on a book when all I'll be able to think of is my lady wife having her way with me in this chair?"

  The smile that spread across her mouth momentarily transfixed him.

  "That's precisely the point. You're not supposed to be able to focus. Come to bed," she whispered.

  The urge to obey her was incredibly potent.

  Then she'd be in his arms all night, whether he chose to enjoy the taste of her skin further or merely fall asleep curled around her. He was so fucking tired, his head ached at the thought. Release. Relief. A moment of respite against the harsh reality of day, a moment in her arms.

  She'd give it, if he asked for it.

  But there was too much to do.

  There always was.

  He couldn't rest until Balfour was dead.

  And he couldn't afford to let himself weaken even further, for somehow Adele ignited a piece of him he'd thought long-since buried. Every kiss was a dangerous trap that beckoned him down a long, seductive road.

  "Maybe later," he said, and she slipped from his lap, a flash of chagrin crossing her face. "I need to return to the safe house. Now I have proof Devoncourt was at the warehouse, I can arrest him for questioning."

  "Do you want company?"

  He paused. "As you wish."

  Adele sighed. "Give me twenty minutes to wash up."

  Slipping into a clean gown, undergarments and boots, Adele pushed open the door to the bedroom, her skin all soft and dewy with the heat of her bath water. She'd cleaned up as best she could, but she could still feel the ache of his possession on her body.

  He'd set his walls back into place the second they'd finished, but she'd seen the look in his eyes.

  What was it going to take to break through those walls?

  Patience, she told herself.

  She was getting to him.

  She just had to continue pushing.

  The moment Adele set the lantern on the dresser in her room, she turned, lifting her hands to her damp hair to pin it. Malloryn would be waiting for her. Her shadow stretched out in front of her, growing rapid wings that seemed to swallow her whole.

  She suffered a moment of confusion, before realizing the shadow was too big to be hers.

  Adele half-turned, but it was too late.

  A hand slammed over her face, wet linen smothering her mouth and nose. She tried to cry out, but the familiar scent of ether swam through her head. It was like déjà vu. Her wedding day happening all over again. Chemical crawled down her throat, its choking fingers slipping lassitude through her veins.

  Lifting a foot, she stomped on her attacker's instep as Gemma had taught her, but the world started spinning. All she could do was lash out, hoping to grab something, anything, off the dresser….

  Malloryn!

  "Sorry, cherub," whispered a familiar voice, as the world started going dark around her. "But you picked the wrong side."

  A thunk sounded above him.

  Malloryn lifted his head as he set the sticky glass on the drinks table, and stilled. Heart suddenly beating faster, his hearing intensified as he focused outward.

  All he could hear was the slow, steady shuffle of the butler moving about the house and throwing the locks. The tick of the enormous clock in the front hall. A carriage clattering past in the streets outside.

  Where was she? She said she'd be twenty minutes.

  Climbing the stairs, he set out toward her bedchamber.

  Moonlight streamed through the windows ahead, painted in a grid across the runner. The curtains fluttered in the breeze—

  The curtains fluttered.

  Time suddenly slowed around him. He reached for the knife up his sleeve, but the hollow retort of a dartgun firing stole his attention.

  Too late.

  Malloryn froze as he reached down to touch the dart embedded in his chest. A tremor of shock ran through him, slow creeping numbness stealing through his fingers. Not Black Vein, thank God.

  Hemlock.

  He'd been hemlocked.

  "Adele!" He staggered sideways, slamming into the wall.

  A shadow separated itself from all the others. Despite his well-trained staff, despite the sentries he had posted throughout the property, the enemy had somehow invaded.

  But how?

  The doors and windows were all equipped with special locks that would blare an alarm if someone tried to break in. The only way to do it was to have someone on the inside….

  His knees went weak, feeling flooding out of his limbs first as the poison ravaged through him. A horrified sound echoed in his dry throat, but he couldn't stop himself from hitting the ground, one knee at a time, as a tall, slim woman stepped out from behind the curtains, holding her dartgun on him the entire time.

  "Hello, Malloryn," Dido purred, as he lost his fight over his unresponsive body and slumped face-first to the ground. "I have an invitation from Lord Balfour. He wants you to attend an exclusive viewing. You'll have the best seats in the house for when the fireworks start."

  There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could even bloody well say, as one of his servants scurried out of the shadows and rolled him onto his back.

  "Where to Lady Dido?" the footman whispered.

  Of all the things Malloryn had prepared for, he'd never expected himself to be the target.

  Chapter 27

  By the time sensation returned, it was too late.

  Malloryn let his head fall back against the stone wall of the dank cell where he was chained, blood wet against his split lip. Dido didn't share Jelena's enthusiasm for pain and suffering, but she'd been methodical. He was fairly certain at least one of his ribs was broken, and his left eye threatened to swell shut.

  He could feel the craving virus swarming through him in response to the injuries, but there was nothing he could do right now.

  Each wrist was clamped in a steel manacle two inches thick. Both were soldered directly to the wall above his head, leaving his chest splayed wide and vulnerable.

  The only thing he could hope for was that one of his household staff—or even Adele—would notice him missing, and the Rogues would track him using the beacon inserted at the base of his skull.

  Once again, he was forced to rely upon others.

  Keys clanked in the darkness, and then the cell door opened. Light bloomed, forcing him to
look away as his vision slowly adjusted.

  Balfour stepped out of the shadows, his gloved hands curled around his cane. Snowy white lashes flickered over his coal-black eyes as Balfour took a slow, considering look at him.

  The instinctive curl of fury and rage knotted tight inside his gut, and Malloryn strained at his shackles.

  Twice now, he'd found himself at this man's mercy.

  He could only expect to escape once, and he'd already used up that life.

  "And so we meet again," Balfour murmured as Dido strode into the cell with the lantern. "Sometimes I wonder if fate is determined to throw us against each other until one of us breaks."

  "You've tried to break me before," he rasped, slumping his head back against cold stone. "And you didn't succeed. What makes you think you will this time?"

  Balfour slowly knelt, a smile stretching over his lips as he leaned on the cane. The action brought them to eye level. "Because I am patient. And I am determined. I will find the means to destroy you, Malloryn. No matter how long I must wait, or what I must try. Do you understand? You took everything from me."

  His manacles clanked as he jerked forward. "I wanted you to know what it felt like. I wanted you to suffer."

  "It seems we are of like minds."

  Dido set the lantern on a nearby table, where several items lay covered by a velvet cloth. Something to torture him with, no doubt.

  Malloryn steeled himself. He'd survived what they'd done to him in Russia. He could survive this.

  But he couldn't escape the physiological effects. His body tensed, his heart starting to race. The worst thing was knowing what was to come. Expecting it. Knowing how much pain his body could bear before he'd begin to scream for mercy. He'd begged then. He'd never thought he would, but Jelena had managed to find every little weakness he owned and exploit them.

  Ever since she'd died, he'd thought himself free of this fear, but the simple clank of whatever was on the table put him right back there in Russia. Right back there in those dark, dark moments, where not even a scrap of light could reach him.