Tendril Hearts (Immortals Book 11)

by LJ Vickery

  “Ahn’t theah any noahmal guys in this damned house?” Frank moaned. “How ah we evah gonna go back teh ah regulah lives aftah this?”

  Marduk, getting treated for a broken nose by his lovely wife Tess, spoke up although stuffily. “Don’d worry aboud dad,” he winced. “We hab do make you forged all ob dis before we led you go.”

  Verrie couldn’t hold back her laugh now, and neither could anyone else listening. Between Frank’s Boston accent and the thunder god’s broken nose inflections, the two were a hilarious duo. Marduk glared around the room, but it did him little good.

  “Please, can I YouTube this?” Anshar begged.

  “No,” the chorus of immortal voices sang out in response.

  “Ouch,” Anshar cried, not because he’d been shut down, but because Lenore yanked a glass splinter from his leg where he’d crashed through the one and only window in the gym, a transom that ran the length of the room but was up…twelve feet. That he’d been thrown that high was beyond impossible, but they’d all seen Dumuzi’s monster accomplish the feat.

  Damn. Verrie shivered as she ran a hand over her god’s well-defined lats. He was one strong pile of lumber and wasn’t she looking forward to building a playground out of him later…or climbing to the top of his woodpile…or any number of other really bad metaphors that currently sowed seeds in her lustful mind. Yumm. Fun with plant life.

  “Mom…Mom.”

  Verrie came back with a start to an incredulous Sienna who glared at her with hands planted on slender hips. “I asked if you’d let me and Riles take self-defense lessons from Enlil. He offered, but you were too busy drooling over Muze’s back to hear,” she accused.

  “Geez, Si. Give your mom a break.” Riley smacked her friend playfully in the head. “She hasn’t had a boyfriend since the stone age…and that was your dad who completely sucked ass if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “Yeah, well what about Aunt Frank? Huh? When was the last time she had a boyfriend?”

  “Are you shitting me? Gram’s a player,” Riley scoffed. “She has guys after her all the time.”

  “Okay, girls. Enough.” Verrie shut their verbal parlay right down. “You’re just embarrassing us,” she grumbled. “And, yeah, fine. Get some self-defense lessons,” she said absently.

  Verrie felt skewered by the stone age comment, imagining a big red “L” in the middle of her forehead, but what really had her shocked and in schoolmarm mode was catching sight of her normally easygoing friend’s face. Frank had turned a mortified shade of red and gaped like a landed trout. And was that…what the hell? Had Ishkur just thrown off a compress Dr. Dani applied and stomped out of the room? Verrie wasn’t the only one to notice.

  “Whadtha fug is going od?” Marduk spit some blood into the bucket his wife kindly held.

  Veronica wished she knew how to answer the god’s question. She risked a discreet glance at Frankie and earned a small, curt shake of the head for her troubles. She’d have to catch up with her friend later when there was no rapt audience.

  “The window is repaired.” Dorian waltzed into the room, tugging on starched, white cuffs that showed the proper half inch below his well-cut black leather jacket. One would never know he had wholeheartedly been part of the earlier brawl. More surprising, his dark, dangerous visage―one that discouraged familiarity―held no menace for her daughter.

  “Did you use magic?” she asked him breathlessly, moving close to look up into his coolly handsome face. “Can I see you do something?”

  Far from disgruntled, the warlock bowed and presented Si with a blood red rose he plucked from the air.

  “Oh my god, that was so cray,” she squealed, using youthful vernacular.

  Verrie felt the need to step in. “I apologize for my daughter, Mr….” Shit. What had she been told his last name was when they’d been introduced?

  “Call me Dorian, Ms. Foxie, and I shall call you Verrie.” ―it wasn’t a request― “But please don’t worry about your charming daughter’s exuberance. I was an adjunct professor at a Massachusetts college some years ago and am used to dealing with young women a good deal sassier than she.” He sent his black eyes searching the room for his wife Addie-May who got pink around the cheeks and actually stuck her tongue out at her handsome husband.

  “That’s so romantic,” Sienna sighed, her eyes not missing the heated exchange between the pair. When Dorian snapped his fingers and the couple disappeared, she nearly swooned. “Holy shit. Forget the romantic thing. Those two are smokin’ hot.”

  Dorian must have left an explosion of testosterone in the room when he evaporated because a quick egress by gods and goddesses rapidly took place. Hell, Verrie felt it, and by the change in Dumuzi’s breathing under her ministrative hands, her future mate did too. But how was she going to leave with her daughter looking on?

  “Riley, Sienna? What say we go have a look-see in the cellah? These guys have dungeons ya know.” Frank couldn’t have said anything to spark Si’s imagination faster.

  “I heard about them.” Sienna clapped her hands. “I’ve been dying to look. Can we, Mom? Marduk?” she looked imploringly at them both for permission.

  The thunder god was no fool. He gave Verrie a commanding look that positively screamed “go fuck your man,” and put his stamp of approval on the girls’ trip to the bottom-most floor.

  “Go hab fun.” The boss-man flinched as Dani put a quick stitch in the slice at the top of his nose. “Jake should be dowed dare pudding Maddew away agaid, but dake a couble ob da blue guys wid you do be on da sape side.”

  Verrie heard him call out in his head. Dunce, tell Flick and Gramps to accompany our human girls to the cellars. Have them get a nice long tour of every level, starting with the dungeon. The god’s head voice was amusingly normal in juxtaposition to his damaged-nose speech. He ran a tongue over his split lip and sent a speculative glance toward Frank before adding, And don’t forget the garages. I’m sure they’d all like to see Ishkur’s stable of bikes.

  Funny, Marduk had picked up on the tension between Frank and Ishkur too.

  Verrie looked down at her god, who’d turned, propped himself up, and eyed her like she was so much fertilizer. Luckily, Frank had made quick work of clearing out the girls. The ground was clear to have her way with Dumuzi. Thank you, Frank.

  You’re welcome.

  What? No way. That sneaky bitch. When had Frank clued in to hear head-speak? Why had she hidden it? Verrie looked at the stragglers who remained in the kitchen, and not one of them seemed to have heard her buddy. Huh. So her friend already had mad skills―better than Verrie’s―and could select and direct her god-talk. Shit.

  You suck, Verrie sent back, acerbically.

  “Who sucks?” Muze looked up, bemused at her nasty tone.

  She became flustered. “No one, nothing. Forget I said anything,” she tried to cover. “I was just thinking to myself, and it got away.”

  “Oookay.” Her god didn’t look convinced. It was time for distraction until she could get with Frank and find out what the fuck? It wouldn’t be a hardship. Dumuzi was a major diversion who had eluded her for too long. She ran her hands over his bare chest, reached a puckered brown nipple and gave it a firm tweak.

  “Uhh.” The breath left his body in one quick exhalation. She lowered her head to kiss the affected nub and swirled her warm tongue over his interested protrusion while he cupped the back of her head. “Back to my room?” he questioned through clenched teeth.

  Verrie lifted her face to look into deep green eyes. “Lead the way,” she purred.

  He moved her gently aside, leaped to his feet and bent at the waist, throwing his shoulder into her midsection to stand with her hanging over his back…again. Verrie sighed.

  “This is just so you remember who’s in charge.” He patted her ass.

  She could almost feel his impish grin. “Dream on, sport,” she threw back, but her brain scrambled. Could she regain control? Did she want to? The rational part of her knew her
need to orchestrate in the bedroom was because―since her parents died―her sanity hinged on directing every possible aspect of her life. That had only escalated when she’d found herself at the mercy of the demon voices.

  One of the first psychiatrists she’d ever seen had said something to her that stuck. “Try to enjoy sex. You can’t feel too crazy if you’re busy concentrating on your libido. Orgasm has always been a great distraction from things that ail a troubled soul.”

  Verrie had embraced that, much to the confusion of Dwight Dickhead…who had always been more than happy with once a month sex. She also began taking total control in the bedroom while making their physical forays more frequent. It had been an okay arrangement. She found she liked being on top, both literally and figuratively, and her dominant side had been born.

  Now the question was, faced with a real man…real god, who had hearty desires and by every indication a healthy sex drive, would she call the shots? Would she still want to?

  Verrie reached down and pinched Dumuzi’s fine ass and loved his little stutter-step. Uh, huh. Yup. She would—at least, some of the time.

  “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” Dumuzi questioned, teasingly. “Why don’t you give up and submit to my godly superiority like a good mate?” He ran a hand up her leg to the juncture of her thighs…not going the last half inch…which admittedly, would have felt damned nice. Despite his admirable attempt at distraction, Verrie noted the curiosity in his voice.

  “Me-thinks the gentleman doth protest too much,” she beamed, liking their battle. “Why don’t you concede I’m going to call all the shots? I’ll go easier on you if you’re a good boy and don’t give me grief,” she volleyed.

  They reached his bedroom door, and he kicked it open with verve even though it hadn’t been repaired from Lenore’s assault earlier. Still, Verrie liked the sound of his masculine display and sighed appreciatively.

  “The only fight we’ll have is any you put up while I strip you naked.” His eyes glittered above hers as he dropped her onto the bed. He quickly unzipped and wrenched down his pants, kicking them away.

  Gods. Gloriously naked.

  “And once your clothes are gone, I’m going to hold your legs open while I eat your succulent pussy and tongue you until you scream for me to bring you to orgasm. Then I’m going to pull back and plunge this cock”―he unashamedly grabbed his enormous girth, so Verrie had no doubt as to which cock he meant―“deep inside you and hold it completely still until you beg for it, long and loud enough for the whole house to hear. At that point, I’ll relent and move inside you until you come stronger and harder than you’ve ever climaxed before.”

  The picture he drew was so vivid in Verrie’s head, she misplaced her ability to speak and clearly lost this round of dominance. Then why did she feel like the winner?

  He stood over her, a chiseled god carved from earth’s elements, ready to tear down every wall she’d ever erected, and dammit, all she could do was lick her dry bottom lip and nod her assent. There was not a doubt in her mind Dumuzi would deliver on every one of his promises, and she waved the white flag. For once, she was going to lay back and enjoy the ride.

  “Good,” he nodded at her acquiescence. His fangs popped out the slightest bit. “I like thhhat.” He gave a roguish lisp then joined her on the bed, on his knees. He bent, and using his extended canines, took a grip on the material at her neck and ripped her shirt right down the middle.

  Cool air tickled her belly, but Verrie only had seconds to register that before one claw came up and snicked through the front of her bra, severing the halves and laying her swollen B-cup handfuls open for his perusal. Her pink nipples beaded, and she moaned when he dragged a long claw across first one tip, then the other.

  “Pretty,” he whispered.

  She arched her back when he withdrew his touch.

  “Soon,” he rasped, and with the same ease, he hooked his long barb into the waistband of her jeans, tugging to rent the cloth in two.

  “Green panties.” His eyes grew warmer as he raked his gaze over her exposed skin and the tiny hipsters of which he clearly approved. Verrie could feel the moist heat coming off him in waves as he took her in like a lush oasis.

  “Too bad they won’t last long.” While one hand pulled the remnants of her pants from her legs, the other tore her panties away, tossing the material aside until she lay completely bare to him. “So beautiful.” One tendril escaped from his wrist and wended its way down to part the small strip of hair that covered her most sensitive spot.

  Verrie gasped. So deliberate…so alive.

  He pulled back with a snap. “Now, that’s not the agenda we discussed,” he teased. With forceful hands, he moved quickly to push her knees to her chest, pressing them to the sides, parting her completely and exposing her creamy, damp core for his perusal. “That’s what I want.”

  He leaned in and holding her still, dipped his head down and swiped his tongue across her pussy. Verrie moaned. It felt so damned good, and it had been so long. Perversely, she remembered he said he would deny her orgasm, so she reached for it quickly before he became aware she could go over in an instant. But something must have given her away because he backed off, taking his talented tongue with him.

  “No coming without my permission.” With each distinct syllable, he tapped a smart staccato slap on her cunt. “If I’m quoting you, correctly,” he chuckled.

  Ooh. She squirmed. He’d definitely done this take-charge business before even though he’d let her have the upper hand earlier. So the question remained, how had she managed to get herself a wonderfully dominant, nasty boy who could also play the submissive? Damned good luck.

  He leaned down and lapped her again, this time circling her clit to delve lightly into her crevice.

  She squirmed and panted. “Deeper, Dumuzi. Please.” She was so close, it wouldn’t take but a second.

  He pulled his head back again, and she growled.

  “You want deep, Veronica?” he asked. “Do you remember what I said would happen next?” He let go of one knee in order to take himself in hand again.

  Verrie could do nothing but watch in fascination as he moved his cock closer and closer to her weeping cunt. She quivered, she jerked. If he didn’t put it in soon, she was going to burst into flames.

  She felt the soft, smooth head draw through the space between her nether lips. He moved the bulbous tip up and down to gather moistness, and as she went to draw a breath, he thrust into her with one amazing lunge.

  “Oh gods,” she screamed. Verrie had no chance of stopping her cry. His huge, hot prick stretched her wide and filled her up. Tears of joy came to her eyes. Shit. It had been so long.

  Dumuzi stilled above her.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice full of concern as he looked down at her, alarmed at the moisture in her gaze. He gritted his words out around a clenched jaw.

  She dropped her hands to his hard, smooth ass, and pulled him tighter. “Not even close,” she said smokily. Every nerve ending in her cunt sparked and zinged. She savored every inner twitch and moaned. “Just happy. You feel so damned good.”

  The tension he held left his face. “So do you, sweetness. But you need to get vocal, fast. Because I’m here to stay until you beg me to take charge, loud enough for everyone to hear.”

  Verrie couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips as she swiveled her ass, relishing the way she could move under him to hit all the right spots. “Uh, Muze? There’s only one problem with your plan,” she lifted her head up and nipped at his lower lip, giddy over his penetration. “I’m going to come whether you move or not.” She could already feel the ripples threading through her channel which made it damned hard to speak, but she forced the words to come. “The only one you’re denying is yourself.” She hooked her heels over his massive thighs and tipped her pelvis. “So, you might as well join me. I’m not waiting.” She arched even higher. “Come with me,” she keened.

  His cock d
rew back and plunged deep again… and again. Internal spasms took over, and she clenched around him in ecstasy, her cries of completion moaned into his ear. When she felt him erupt seconds later, her inner muscles gripped and milked him. He roared his satisfaction right alongside her.

  It took forever for Verrie to calm the wild pulse in her pussy which seemed to have a life of its own, but Dumuzi didn’t seem to be complaining. Every time her muscles re-clenched, he gave an attentive manipulation of his talented equipment which stroked the echoes of her orgasm. He raised his head and stared deeply into her eyes, clearly enjoying the tremors of their after-sex, letting her know with a satisfied smile.

  When the shocks finally died out, he gently kissed the end of her nose. She closed her eyes, and he kissed her lids, then brushed the finest of caresses across her parted mouth.

  “Veronica?” he said, softly. She almost didn’t hear him, she was so sated and near to sleep.

  “Hmm?” she thought she answered. Maybe she did.

  “I give in. Partially.”

  Verrie was pretty certain he’d spoken. She wrinkled her nose. Yeah. What had he said?

  He continued, “Did you hear me? You win…but I win, too.”

  There it was again. Some lovely declaration. She nodded. If whatever it was made him happy, it made her happy, too.

  She sighed and slipped into a warm, welcoming darkness.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Beletseri was furious. Not with Ridhwan, although he was a total douchebag, but with herself. She lifted up off of the cave floor and wiped a hand across her mouth. What the hell? Bel despised weakness of any kind, and here she couldn’t even control her own body. She felt tired and sick. The goddess didn’t want to make excuses for herself, but it had to be the food her shifter-captors were feeding her.

  She supposed it was her own fault. She refused to touch the raw meat that was the staple of their diet―Ridhwan allowed no fires for cooking. Therefore, she was relegated to bugs and fruit for her sustenance and could barely choke down the large cockroaches. She kicked dirt over the hole that held the spewed remnants of this morning’s wiggling protein. If she couldn’t adjust and start keeping the horrible food in her stomach, she’d have no chance of escape.