by Aline Hunter
Shifter or no, Diskant was a man, and men always made sure they were the first to flee from the scene of a possible commitment. Now that the lust had left the building, he could happily admit what had happened between them was nothing more than another meaningless sexual encounter. It was a damn shame too, because the man had rocked her world in so many ways he would become the unachievable standard every other hapless suitor would be held to.
A flicker of the nightmare she’d had appeared in her head—darkness, pain, odd odors and sensations—and she tried to recall what had happened after that final mind-blowing orgasm that sent her into a deep, unshakable sleep. The dream and the reality seemed to merge at that point but she was so exhausted she couldn’t piece when one vanished and became the other.
“Maybe it was the wine,” she murmured and sat upright.
Holding her breath, she extended her limbs and stretched, bringing the sore muscles to life. To her shock, the world didn’t tilt or spin. In fact, she felt absolutely fantastic. Apparently a night of excellent sex was just what the doctor ordered.
She hadn’t felt so good in years.
Shoving aside the toasty-warm sheets and comforter, she climbed from the bed, retrieved her strewn clothing minus her savaged undergarments and walked to the open door next to what she already knew was the closet. A large master bathroom beckoned, the beautiful whitewash tile gleaming when she flipped the light switch. A clawed tub was situated against the far wall, a walk-in shower stall was at the right and a small matching sink was to the left.
Placing her clothing on the counter, she made a beeline for the walk-in. A quick shower to wash away the events from the night before and she’d be on her way. She waited until the heavy stream from the showerhead was good and hot before she stepped inside. The sensation of the scorching water against her skin caused her to gasp and then groan in pleasure. Tilting her chin back, she drenched her hair under the spray, keeping her eyes closed.
First things first.
She would finish taking a shower, get dressed, bid adieu to her host and take her ass home. No sense in delaying the inevitable. Besides, the trip to Tennessee was still a go. She had to meet with Thomas, get the deed and keys to the cabin and then…
Cold air brought her back to reality as the stall door was opened. Swiping the water from her eyes, she yipped in alarm when a pair of large hands wrapped around her stomach and brought her back against a very hard, warm and nude body.
Diskant’s head came down until his hair brushed against her shoulder. “You ruined my plans, Ava mine,” he breathed into her ear.
“Plans?” She wanted to cringe at how husky her voice was.
“Breakfast in bed, for starters.”
Her legs quaked and her pussy moistened at the mention of the word bed.
So he does want one for the road.
“That’s okay.” She cleared her throat and attempted to regain her composure. “I’ll pick something up on the way home.”
“You are home.”
He nipped at her ear and a floodgate opened between her thighs. The world seemed to shift and distort, eyes seeing everything yet nothing at all. Desire overcame logic, the need to feel the thick, heavy length of his cock buried inside her eradicating rational thought. Her nipples hardened, throbbing as the skin went taut and the areolas pebbled.
Diskant’s hands surrounded the mounds and he began plucking the peaks, pressing his body flush against her until his cock was nestled at the cleft of her ass. “Do you want something, Ava?”
“I don’t…I need…I want…” She tried to clear her head. She was drowning in this man. If she didn’t do something soon, she wouldn’t be able to deny him or herself.
“To come?” he offered, licking her nape. “I’d love to make you come. Just tell me how you want it.”
Nothing made sense. There was only a haze of sexual frenzy. She plopped her hands onto the tile in front of her and wriggled her ass in invitation. Heaven help her, she wanted nothing more than him lodged inside her.
Hard, fast, frenzied. No foreplay, no warm-up.
Just him.
He released her breasts and wrapped an arm around her waist. He lifted her easily and used his free hand to guide the head of his cock to the drenched folds of her pussy, which felt both electrified and impossibly sensitive.
“Like this?” he asked and pressed into her wet heat, stretching and possessing her, inch by maddening inch.
“Yes. Oh god, yes.”
“How does that feel, baby?”
She whimpered and leaned forward as he pressed her closer to the wall, placing her forehead against the tile and taking shelter from the water as he blanketed her from above.
A deft rotation of his hips and he was pumping into her in smooth steady strokes, pulling out until only the tip remained inside before plunging back in, slow and even, so wonderful yet not enough. Situated as she was, there was no way to assist the movement, to find the position that would send her over.
“Please.” She moaned, desperate for release.
“Is this what you need?” His free hand came around and dipped past her stomach, his middle finger finding and manipulating her clit. Crying out, she arched her back and lifted her head, pushing her shoulders against him.
“Diskant.” She was so close.
So damn close…
“This time we’ll take the edge off. But next time I want all of you, Ava. Inside and out. Last night was only the beginning.” The heat of his breath caressed her nape and she felt the sharp scrape of teeth against her flesh. “Come for me.”
She screamed when his fangs pierced her skin and convulsed as he pinned her to the wall as an orgasm tore through her. Trapped, she had no choice but to ride out the sensations, to take what he wanted to give her. Both hands were on her hips now, forcing her back as he drove forward. His thrusts were borderline violent, his grip becoming painful as the tips of his claws extended and broke the surface of her skin.
“Going to come so hard,” he snarled around her shoulder, the words garbled. “Your cunt feels so fucking good gripping my cock.”
Then he was spilling inside her, the heat of his seed bathing and coating her womb. Exotic scents of male, musk and animal suffused the air and she shivered as another, smaller climax washed over her and she lost her grip on the wall, her water-slick torso sliding limply against the ceramic tile. Diskant’s hand came around to hold her steady as he continued to pump his hips and release into her, the head of his penis pressing into the softness of her cervix once—then again—before finally going still.
His teeth slid free of her ravaged skin at the same time his shaft slid from her body.
“That’s so good,” he groaned and began lapping at the area he’d bitten, soothing the aching burn with his tongue.
A nod of acquiescence was all she could manage. Her entire body was soaring, floating off the high gained by a rip-roaringly good orgasm. He lowered her feet to the floor and though she worried she might stumble, her legs somehow managed to remain steady. Two good twists of the faucets, courtesy of Diskant, and the flow of the shower ebbed and stopped, leaving them coated in nothing more than a thick steam and cooling beads of water.
Grasping her shoulders tenderly with now claw-free fingers, he turned her around and dropped to a knee. Wrapping his hand around her upper thighs, he drew her close and began lavishing the same attention on the thin scratches along her hips and abdomen as he had the punctures at her throat. She shivered at the contact of his tongue, closing her eyes and basking the afterglow of climax.
“Let’s get some food in you.” He pressed a kiss to her navel before rising to his full height. She lifted her chin, following the line of his muscular thighs, drifting past the sinewy six-pack and wide chest with a scattering of hair until she gazed into his face.
He was huge—huge and impressive. The eyes that met hers were their usual tawny-gold color, his dark brows drawn down as he observed her closely.
“What
?” she asked self-consciously and forced herself to remain still.
“How do you feel?” He lifted both his hands and cradled her biceps, stroking her arms with tender fingers.
She grinned, playful despite the unfamiliar calm that blanketed her. “Fishing for compliments?”
The serious expression evaporated and he returned her grin. “What if I am?”
She shrugged, enjoying the way his still-moist fingers felt against her steamy skin. “I wouldn’t suggest holding your breath.”
“Minx.”
He snagged her under the knees with one hand, placed the other around her back and lifted her effortlessly into his chest. The heat from his skin surrounded her, providing a barrier from the chill of the bathroom that wafted toward them when he opened the shower door and stepped out.
Brushing aside her protests, he toweled her body dry and didn’t move away until she began the tedious task of sliding into her cigarette-reeking clothes, starting with her slacks sans underwear. She held her breath as she reached for her shirt, trying not to choke. Normally the smell wasn’t so obvious or so offensive. As if he sensed her discomfort, Diskant moved in front of her and hoisted his sweatshirt over her head.
“Arms up,” he instructed and slid the garment down her torso when she did as he asked. Her head popped through the collar and he grinned as her hair scattered in all directions, a few wisps falling across her forehead.
“What are you grinning at?” She scowled, shoved the too-long sleeves to her elbows and combed her fingers through her mop of hair.
“Not a thing,” he answered evasively and slid into a pair of well-worn jeans, going commando.
She watched the teeth of the zipper slide past tanned skin and the thatch of ebony hair and experienced a fresh wave of desire. That zipper was going in the wrong direction entirely. In fact, she’d love nothing more than to rip the denim off his hips, fall to her knees and give him a proper good morning…
“I hope you’re hungry. I made breakfast for lunch.”
“Breakfast for lunch?” She shook her head clear of the sexual fog. “What time is it?”
“It was a quarter to two when I came upstairs.”
Her stomach sank and all sexual thought dissipated.
Two o’clock? Damn!
She rushed out of the bathroom, chanting “shoes, shoes, shoes”, aware of Diskant’s baffled expression, which quickly became impatient. After she retrieved her socks and sneakers, she perched on the edge of the mattress and hurriedly put them on. She never slept late, always able to rely on the inner cuckoo clock that roused her just after seven each morning. It figured she’d break from the norm when it came to something important. If she was late to sign the papers, Thomas wouldn’t stick around. He would take the deed to the cabin and shop it elsewhere.
Thomas waited for no one—including family and especially her.
One hour was all she had to travel from the Upper East Side to Maybelle’s Diner in Queens. There was a slim chance she could make it if she got a taxi, paid extra for a bit of speed and went directly there. She started to look for her purse and cursed. Her cell was in her pants, as were her keys, but her money was inside her locker at work. She didn’t have the fare to pay for the trip.
“Do you think you’re going somewhere?” Diskant didn’t pose the question in a manner that implied he would accept anything less than an answer.
She quickly tied the laces. “I’m supposed to meet someone in less than an hour.”
“Can you call and postpone?” Damn he sounded intense when he was annoyed, like a wild bear coming across a lone hunter in the woods.
Shaking her head, she stood. “No. Thomas won’t stick around if I’m not there when I promised to be, and he won’t answer his cell just to spite me. I need to call a cab. Do you think you can spot me the fare? I can pay you—”
“Who the fuck is Thomas?”
That got her attention.
She turned and focused on Diskant. His gold irises were like liquid metal, shining so brightly she couldn’t help the instinctive reaction to place a hand to her throat and take a cautionary step back. He’d sworn that shifters wouldn’t hurt their mates—if, in fact, that was what she was to him—but considering the way he looked right now, primed and ready to kill, that fact didn’t reassure her much.
Swallowing convulsively, she squared her shoulders, managed to summon some courage and narrowed her eyes in turn. “Don’t be a Neanderthal. Thomas is my brother.”
The tension in the room eased as the glow in his eyes faded and the harsh lines around his lips and eyes receded. He started walking toward her and it took every ounce of pride and determination not to shy away when he reached out. His fingers were gentle on her elbows, palms barely cupping her forearms.
When he spoke, his voice was strained. “I apologize. I’m still struggling for control when it comes to you, and when you mentioned another male… You’re going to have to be patient with me. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not one to share.” His right hand traveled up her arm, coming to a stop as he draped his hand possessively around her nape and twined his fingers in the damp strands of hair. “Where are you supposed to meet him?”
Licking her suddenly parched lips, she whispered, “Maybelle’s Diner.”
“The Cajun place in Queens?” She nodded and he pulled her forward, bent at the waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Let me finish getting dressed and we’ll go. We can make it if we take the bike.”
“But—” She started to argue and he placed a firm finger against her lips.
“No buts. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not until we are fully bonded. You might as well get used to the idea of having me around.”
Another “but” lingered on the tip of her tongue, along with a multitude of questions, but she chose to nod instead. Now wasn’t the time to discuss their relationship or delve into the complexities of what he referred to as bonding. Her parents’ cabin was the last thing she had left from her childhood and there was no way in hell she was letting that slip away. Thomas would hate the fact that she’d brought someone along for the meeting but he’d just have to get over it.
Diskant released her and turned, muscles in his shoulders and waist flexing seamlessly as he strode to the closet. Tearing her eyes away before she gave in to the temptation to follow, she glanced at her reflection in the large mirror hanging above the dresser and grimaced.
Her swollen lips, whisker-burned chin and neck and unruly appearance screamed, “I just had the best sex of my life.”
Not only would Thomas know she’d found a new man, so would the rest of the world.
So much for keeping her personal life personal.
Chapter Eight
“I have news you want to hear.”
Craig Newlander shifted his weight in the plush leather chair as he leaned forward, lifted the receiver and took the call off speaker. He placed the phone against his ear and cleared his throat.
“I’m listening.”
The man on the other end of the line spoke in a low but clear voice. “Diskant Black was seen leaving Club Liminality with Ava Brisbane last night.”
“Ava?” he questioned. “Are you certain?”
“My sources aren’t paid to lie.”
“Did she leave with him willingly?”
“Let’s just say she didn’t put up much of a fight.”
Now this was news he could put to good use. “Where is she now?”
“Under lockdown at his place.”
“Keep me informed.”
“You got it.”
The line went dead and Craig placed the receiver back into the cradle.
So Ava was sharing her bed with a shifter, was she? It was a bit of a shock, considering how determined she seemed to stay away from all things supernatural—including those more like her than she wanted to know about—but it was also extremely serendipitous in light of recent events, which had revealed her importance and talent in an entirely n
ew light. Months of trying to break down her defenses had proven futile, and the only way they’d gained her interest was by sharing information and functioning under the pretense of expanding her limited horizons.
Could it be possible? Could she be mated to a shifter?
Considering her heritage, he wasn’t surprised. Though undeniably human, she was anything but ordinary. Now, if bonded to something as powerful as shifter—especially one such as Diskant Black—her telepathy would only grow stronger as a consequence. It was a good thing, since she was about to face a danger that wouldn’t go away.
He shook his head and considered all the angles. Hopefully Diskant wasn’t a random bed partner due to Ava’s lack of companionship in recent months. He was well aware of her boring and unchanging routine, and the separation from that louse Martin Feldman had to have been a devastating blow. Not that he was upset about that. If not for Martin’s absence in her life Craig’s people never would have been given the opportunity to approach her with her guard down.
Reaching for the drawer to his right, he grasped the knob and pulled it open. Nestled just inside was the jewelry box containing Ava’s birthright—the Brisbane locket. He removed the black velveteen box and sank back in the leather chair.
With this, her telepathy would be quadrupled. She could listen to the thoughts of anyone she focused on, able to hear anything and everything they were thinking, even from miles away. If she agreed to join the ranks of the Villati, the knowledge—and protection—she could procure for their studies would prove invaluable. Lifting the lid, he peered down at the rounded pendant with an intricate design engraved into the center. The platinum flashed as he grasped the chain, lifted the necklace into the air and shifted his wrist to study the stone set in the back of the locket, the matching chain sparkling in the dim lighting.
Ava assumed the locket was nothing more than a trinket, something to be handed down following her parents’ deaths. When he’d first obtained the jewelry he’d assumed as much as well. Now that he knew better he was hesitant to keep her in the dark about the true power of the keepsake, especially without being alerted to the danger that loomed ahead. In light of recent happenings, dangling something this powerful in her face, along with a warning, might be enough to sway her. This wasn’t about cataloging information so much as it was protecting those who worked to keep a historical record of preternatural entities.
