Master of Ecstasy

by Nina Bangs

  Then, with a sense of shock, he realized he'd gone beyond any need except his sexual hunger for this woman. Never before had he been able to completely dismiss the other hunger.

  Her hands and lips touched him everywhere: his throat, his chest, his nipples, his inner thighs. Her fingers kneaded his buttocks, digging her nails into his flesh, and he murmured his enjoyment of the pleasure-pain.

  And when her lips closed around the head of his cock and slid smoothly, hotly over him, the feel of her tongue flicking over his flesh, her teeth gently nipping maddeningly sensitive skin, compelled him to finish what he'd wanted to make last long.

  He was beyond coherent thought. He raised her face to meet his lips then melded his mouth to hers. His harsh groans swallowed her soft moans. His body shook with sexual need doubled. He felt her mouth on his lips and felt her body's reaction to his mouth, his hands.

  With a muffled expletive, his control shattered. He pulled her beneath him and noted with pleasure that she spread her legs for him. He lifted her hips, and drove into her. Blythe screamed her demands that he pound harder, faster. She raised her hips to meet his thrusts with a savagery that drew his lips back in a primitive snarl of triumph.

  And when human flesh could contain no more sensations, his orgasm took him, took her. He felt her spasm, felt the tight clench of her muscles around his cock, and felt the waves of unspeakable pleasure spreading through her body. His own release joined hers, and held him prisoner while he fought to capture the moment, the feeling. But like the ocean's waves battering his ship, the explosion of his senses drove him before it, and he was helpless in a way he had never known before.

  Slowly, reality filtered into his thoughts, easing his pounding heart. Once again he felt the rock pressing into his back, and from long habit, he rested his palm over his chest and gloried in this proof of his humanness. As his breathing slowed, he opened his eyes and met her glazed stare.

  "What happened?"

  She still stood against the tree, her dress and shawl were still in place, and he still sat across the clearing from her. As he watched, she pushed back her thick fall of hair. He followed the motion, wanting to reach out and slide his fingers through the strands.

  "No, don't answer that." She reached behind her to touch the tree's rough bark as though that was her only way to affirm reality. "You reached into my mind, made everything real, but it only happened in my mind. I felt my own body's reactions at the same time I was feeling yours. How… ?" Her voice trailed off as she skimmed her clothing with fingers that shook. "Everything happened in my mind."

  "Ye need not know how, only that I can." He slipped his shirt on, fastened his plaid, then stood. When he raised his gaze, she was fumbling with her shawl as she tried to wrap it more tightly around herself. Would she feel guilt now, or worse yet, fear? Mayhap he had been a wee bit too eager. "Ye drew pleasure only from your mind, so ye need feel no guilt about your job." He strode across the clearing, took the shawl from her grasp, and did what she could not.

  As she stood facing him, a smile touched her lips. "Could've fooled me. All that pleasure felt pretty global." She took a deep breath, then shrugged. "I cheated. There's nothing I can do to change what happened." She finally met his gaze directly. "I don't think I'd change anything even if I could. I've never had that kind of sexual experience, and I can't imagine anything being that good again. Ever."

  Her gaze narrowed. "But that doesn't mean it will happen again. I think Ecstasy is right about not mixing business with pleasure. Sex muddies the water, makes it harder to concentrate." Suspicion touched her gaze. "Maybe that's what you planned."

  He shook his head and smiled. She was so intense, so focused on things that really did not matter. In five hundred years he had learned that not many things mattered beyond the pleasure life could give. "I didna plan tonight. If I had, ye would be warm beside me in my bed."

  "Right." She frowned, and he knew her thoughts wandered elsewhere. "You called out to Freyja when you climaxed. Who is Freyja?"

  It was his turn to frown. He never blurted out things he shouldn't, even in the throes of sexual excitement.

  "Freyja is the Northmen's goddess of love and war. 'Twould seem they have much in common."

  "I notice that whenever you speak of the Northmen you speak in the present tense." Her gaze was intent on him, and he saw the exact moment when realization widened her eyes.

  He stilled. Waiting.

  "Do you still guide your ship in from the sea on stormy nights? Do you shout your battle cry… Varin?"

  He smiled at her. A smile his enemies could tell her was not to be believed. "Only when I have drunk too much and wish to frighten women and bairns."

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  « ^ »

  A Viking. Blythe walked toward the castle with a silent Darach beside her. She couldn't conceive of the violence he'd experienced or where he stored all the disturbing memories. And what happened when his mental storage facility reached capacity? Did it just explode from the pressure, sending Darach into a downward spiral toward insanity?

  She cast him a sideways glance. No, she didn't think insanity would claim him. He was too much in control. It was his control that kept her from reaching his emotions. "So tell me about your life as Black Varin. How did you become Darach MacKenzie?"

  He didn't look at her. "We raided this coast and decided 'twould make a better home than our own. We took the name of a clan most would not find strange, then found this place to build our castle. It was a remote area and few could find it. We didna call attention to ourselves for a hundred years. By that time none were alive who remembered who we truly were, neither the real MacKenzies nor the people we had raided."

  "What do you do with all the bad memories, Darach? There have to be a lot more than I thought at first. What about your family?" The logical progression widened her eyes. "What about a wife?" Maybe she should have thought of a wife before she gave herself over to all that mind sex back on the path. "Did you ever have a wife?" Automatically she touched the Ecstasy charm at her throat.

  "Aye." He walked faster.

  Uh-oh. One-word answer. Walking faster. She'd hit a nerve again. "Any children?"

  "No."

  "What happened?" He was walking so fast now that she had to trot to keep up.

  He stopped so suddenly that she trotted a few steps ahead before realizing he wasn't beside her.

  She turned to face him and was hit with a wave of anger that almost flattened her.

  "Thor's hammer, woman, do ye never leave a man be?" He towered over her, fists clenched and eyes narrowed to blue slits of fury. "Ye're like the healer who pokes and prods at a man's body, asking where it hurts until he aches in a hundred places instead of just one."

  "But after all the poking, he heals you. Isn't that what's important?" Blythe swallowed hard to dislodge her fear. She couldn't stop now. All of his anger was protecting a deeper emotion. Years of experience had taught her that.

  "Sometimes there is nothing to heal." He clasped her chin and tilted her face up to meet his glare. "Do ye ever think that ye have no right to invade a man's emotions if he doesna wish it? And mayhap ye should try to heal yourself."

  She blinked. "Me? What do I have to do with this? I'm perfectly happy." Blythe pushed aside any temptation to define "perfectly happy."

  Did she have the right to interfere with his life? Of course she did. In her time, people had to accept help if professionals thought it necessary. No one had the right to reject help. Who would want to? A very old and very stubborn vampire.

  He shook his head, and some of the anger left his eyes. "Ye're not happy. Ye work for a company named Ecstasy that doesna understand its meaning. What does the word mean to ye?"

  Too late she recognized Darach's featherlight touch in her mind. She'd already allowed an image of his naked body to form. Now she couldn't even lie.

  "Aye." His smile was all self-satisfied male. "Ye're a sensual woman who works for tho
se who dinna wish ye to have sexual desires." He began to walk again.

  "Only during working hours." She saw his skepticism. "Okay, so employees are expected to be circumspect outside the job, too. Ecstasy Incorporated is an old, respected company. For years it had to fight the perception that it was just an upgrade from some of the ancient massage parlors that had too intimate hands-on policies. Ecstasy has a reputation to uphold." He only nodded. "Ye also have unhappy memories." She was on safer ground here. "Sure. Everybody does. But I don't hide them away. I admit that I have them, then work to heal myself." Blythe glanced away. "Besides, I don't have the kinds of memories you have." "It doesna matter; memories never go away. They are always there waiting. Ye hide from them by thinking of nothing but your job." He shrugged. "Since I canna change what is done, I choose to push the bad memories aside and replace them with pleasurable experiences." His hot gaze told her exactly what pleasurable experiences he was referring to.

  Thank heavens they'd reached the castle. The conversation wasn't going quite the way she'd hoped. As they climbed the darkened stairway, lit only by a few pitiful sconces, she decided to try for one more question. And it definitely would not have the word ecstasy in it.

  "Who's Jorund, and where did he go?" Darach stopped in front of her door. The flame from a nearby sconce cast his face in shifting shadows that seemed a little too scary for her taste. Blythe took a deep breath and reminded herself that he was her subject. That she'd never succeed in reaching his emotions if she was afraid of him. And if she didn't succeed, it was back to Casper, Wyoming, the happiness capital of the world.

  He leaned forward, blocking out the flame's light and backing her against the door. "I am one of the oldest of my kind, and as such have powers that others do not."

  His breath heated her neck as well as her imagination. What kinds of powers? Blythe's imagination happily created a few possible scenarios, all sensual.

  "Ian feared Jorund. Feared him with a mortal fear that even madness could not end. Jorund was not one of us, but sometimes sailed on raids when we needed more men."

  "Jorund was a regular guy? Didn't turn into a vampire?"

  He watched a line of concentration form between her eyes. "Aye. One day they fought, and Jorund almost killed Ian. This was when Ian was still young and hadna changed yet. He would have died like any human." Darach paused, trying to recall things that had happened so very long ago, they were barely memories anymore. "Jorund was a bully, ye ken, and enjoyed destroying those weaker than he. We allowed him to sail with us because of his fierceness in battle. But ever after that fight, he waited to find Ian alone so he could finish what he had started."

  "What happened to him?" Her eyes widened as understanding started to form.

  "I killed him one night as he crouched behind a wall waiting for Ian."

  "But I saw him tonight, felt him brush by me. Who was that? Was it someone dressed as Jorund?"

  Darach knew if he entered her mind now, he would find her thoughts racing in all directions, trying to make sense of his words. "It was Jorund."

  He looked down at Blythe and waited until she met his gaze. "This is my power. I know a person's greatest fear and can make it real." If he could control the weather, he would order a crash of thunder to make his admission more powerful, but it was not one of his powers. In another hundred years, when his powers had grown, he might be able to call up a credible storm, but not yet. Thunder would probably prove useless anyway. Nothing he had said or done so far had affected Blythe's determination to make him happy. He found he admired her doggedness at the same time as it drove him crazy.

  "That's impossible. Jorund was alive, real. No one could do that." She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself. "What happened to him? He just disappeared with Ian."

  "He was Ian's fear, and when Ian died, he did also."

  "No, I don't believe you." Every rigid line of her body spoke of her denial.

  "Ye say 'tis impossible, yet ye've spoken with Sparkle and felt Ganymede's power. Ye've traveled through time. Do ye think the innkeeper we spoke with would believe that possible? Because ye've not seen something before doesna make it impossible."

  He watched those wondrous brown eyes and saw the dawning fear there. It was what he wanted, wasn't it? If she feared him, she would cease her prattle about making him happy. Exhaling sharply, he admitted that he did not want her fearful. But he did need to know one thing.

  "What do ye fear, Blythe?" He slipped into her mind. Humans seemed always to think of their fear before answering.

  "Nothing. Okay, so you're creeping me out a little. And yes, I'm a bit anxious about my job. But that's it." She glared at him as if daring him to disagree. "And get out of my mind."

  He retreated from her mind while trying to hide his smile. Blythe of the brave front did fear something. It was not something he would have expected.

  She drew in a deep breath, then reached behind herself to push open her door. "I've had about all the weirdness I can stand for one day. I think I'll turn in."

  Darach peered past her into the dimly lit room. He frowned. "I think ye need prepare yourself for a wee bit more 'weirdness.' "

  "What?" Turning, she stepped into the room, then stopped. "I can't handle this. You're my witness that this was the feather that broke the ockidor's back. Therefore, I am not responsible for any slaughter or mayhem that follows." She scanned the room. "Who is the slimy, evil… ?"

  "Moi. And I'm totally devastated." Sparkle rose from beside the fireplace and stretched. She did not look overly upset. "Mede, our beloved cosmic fraidy cat, ordered me to mess with your room, Darach. See, he couldn't do it in person because he's busy sucking up to the goodness-and-light folks. You do understand the sucking-up concept, don't you?" She padded over to Darach and peered up at him from sly cat eyes. "No, I guess you don't. I'd say you never sucked up to anyone in your life. I really admire that in a man."

  Darach had no idea what sucking up meant, but he understood exactly what Sparkle Stardust admired in a man. "Ye need move your mind from your admiration of men back to what ye've done here."

  He followed Blythe as she walked further into the room, her eyes wide and disbelieving. "You did this, Sparkle? Why?"

  As one, they all peered up at the huge hole in the ceiling, the hole through which Darach's bed had fallen to land beside Blythe's.

  Sparkle leaped onto Darach's bed and settled herself comfortably in its center. "This is all your fault, Darach."

  Darach watched the storm building in Blythe's eyes and knew he should throttle the wee beastie resting on his bed, but against all reason, he felt like laughing. He tried to smother his amusement. "I'm sure ye're verra good at blaming others for your mischief."

  "No, really." Sparkle opened her eyes wide, trying to look innocent.

  Darach knew no one who was foolish enough to believe those eyes. He glanced at Blythe. Now, this was a woman whose eyes might tempt him to believe in many things if he were not careful.

  "Nothing, and I'm saying nothing, could excuse this." Blythe flung her arms wide to encompass the gaping hole in the ceiling and his bed resting beside hers. "I really hope all nine of your lives are insured, because you're about to become a squished kitty."

  "Yummy, I love a delicious display of temper." Sparkle turned an approving gaze toward Blythe. "But Darach shouldn't have protected his door so well. I couldn't get through whatever he did to keep me out, so I had to look for an alternate entrance. Luckily for me, he didn't protect your door, and he didn't protect his floor."

  "The bed." Blythe's glare made even Darach uneasy. "Explain the bed."

  "Oh, that." Sparkle's tone was a dismissive shrug. "That was pure chance. I had no idea where everything was in Darach's room. I just made my hole and was completely shocked when the bed fell through. Aren't we lucky it didn't fall on top of your bed?" She widened her eyes some more to demonstrate her shock.

  Darach looked into Sparkle's eyes and knew she had never done anything
by chance in all the wicked years of her life. But he chose not to complain. He was starting to see possibilities in this bed situation.

  Blythe turned desperate eyes toward him. "Put your bed back, Darach. It can't stay here."

  He arranged his face in fittingly sorrowful lines. "I canna do that. 'Tis not within my power." A lie, but it was for a good cause. "And even if I could return the bed to my room, the hole would remain. Ye wouldna wish me to fall through it in the night and land on ye." He smiled at her. "Or mayhap ye would."

  Blythe narrowed her gaze at him. "Enjoying yourself, aren't you? Okay, if you won't move your bed, then I'll move mine. There must be a lot of empty bedrooms in this place."

  "That's just plain stupid, sister." Sparkle rose and moved to the edge of Darach's bed. "Think about having this man… or whatever, spread hot and naked on his big beautiful bed waiting for you to play with his body. I could tell you some things to do that—"

  "Get out!" Blythe's body thrummed with outrage. She was being attacked on two fronts. She had to get rid of Sparkle so she could concentrate on Darach and his bed.

  "… would drive him crazy." Sparkle continued as though Blythe had never spoken. "When his body is gleaming with sweat, and his legs are spread wide, and he's trembling with want, and his big, gorgeous cock is stretched so tight you can see the veins, if you put your mouth at the base and wiggle your tongue around it'll—"

  "Now!" Blythe hated that Sparkle could reduce her to shouting, but she had to get rid of the little witch before she gave in to the temptation of Sparkle's vivid description. There would be no tongue-wiggling in this room.

  With a mental huff of disgust, Sparkle leaped from the bed and padded to the open door. Blythe followed her to make sure Sparkle really left, so she caught every mumbled hiss and growl.