Book dropped his hands to above her waist, covering her solar plexus in front and the matching energy center on her spine. Chanting beneath his breath, he channeled energy to her vulnerable places until both hands were radiant with heat. He held them for a moment, pulled them gradually away, and clapped, shaking his fingers when he was through.
Amazingly, the tension inside her had eased.
“What did you do?” she asked, feeling the difference.
“Cleared some cords. Removed a hook and a couple of seed crystals. Repaired your chakra and re-wove your grid. Oh, and I put you in a turtle shell to protect you from psychic attack. How do you feel?”
“Better,” she marveled. “Hungry,” she added, feeling her appetite return.
Book nodded approvingly.
“Then let’s get something to eat. We’ll get Loki when we’re done. You’ll be able to relax and enjoy yourself with both of us to guard you. Besides, he likes to watch me dance, too.”
9
Book spent the evening deflecting negative thought-forms aimed at Adrienne. Most of them came from Bloody Mary but more than one had come from a distant wraith, pissed that he’d failed to kidnap the First Daughter of Texas and blaming her for his death.
He was glad when she finally asked to go inside. He had kept an eye on things, making certain Adrienne wasn’t followed when she excused herself for potty breaks. After hours spent protecting her from others, he looked forward to having her all to himself— or as much as Loki would let him.
The dog seemed to feel the unseen threats to her and had stayed by her side, guarding her against surreal and present dangers. More than once, his hackles had risen when Bloody Mary approached. Their Road Captain Sage had successfully distracted her, but creating and maintaining a safe space took a fair amount of energy. By the end of the evening, the effort had taken a toll.
“We need to talk to Deacon before we head in,” he said, freeing the leash from his chair. “Let him know we’re calling it a night.”
Texas followed obediently, quietly, holding his hand and letting him do the talking. Mary had disappeared earlier with Sage and Ace, a helicopter pilot turned drone technician now that FAA was nonexistent and most aircraft sat grounded. No Mercy had sung about empty skies three years before the government fell and domestic flights were canceled.
It still amazed him that The Prophets’ daughter was here and sharing his bed. Not every woman could handle rough sex but she seemed to thrive on it, submitting to his Domination however he wanted to have her. Doggy style was his favorite, taking her on her hands and knees and pounding her into the mattress.
Thankfully, she could handle him, painslut that she was. Down her throat, in her pussy, or up her ass. Remembering the feel of her clinging warmth, he adjusted his swelling cock and quickened their pace, eager to get her alone.
A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. “Not so fast, cowboy! You’re making it hard for me to keep up.”
He was hard for her, all right. The proof in his pants let her know just how much she affected him. Book slowed down for her sake, though. Why spend the rest of the night icing an ankle when they could be burning up the sheets?
Why indeed.
The hallway was blessedly quiet and frustratingly long. By the time they reached the privacy of his quarters, he had reached the limits of his patience. Ordering Loki to lie on his mat, he backed Adrienne against the bolted door, tore off her panties, caught her thigh over his forearm, and thrust his length inside her, relishing her gasp of pleasure taken with a pinch of pain.
“Christ, you feel good,” he rumbled, urging her legs around his waist and nailing her to the door with his body. He snapped his hips and thrust in again, making her wince when he bottomed out.
“Fuck,” he grated. “I can’t hear you. You’ll have to tell me if it’s too much.”
“I will . . . Sir . . .” she panted, her breath escaping in hot, harsh bursts as he drove into her.
Telepathy was a tremendous sexual aid, letting him know what felt good to a woman, when she needed less, and when she wanted more. His psychic gifts allowed him to find women who liked it rough and who were open to a power exchange.
In the bedroom, he was the Master. He enjoyed testing his partners’ limits, seeing just how far he could take them before pushing them over the edge. Not every woman could handle him. Adrienne was one of the chosen few.
Banishing the others from his mind, he focused his full attention on the woman he had nailed to the door, moaning in ecstasy, whispering pleas for more. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them above her head with one hand and pounded her harder, pelvis thrusting, hips churning, surging upward and impaling her on his cock. Her snug, wet walls gripped his length, juices flowing, easing his way.
Another night, he’d fuck her raw, but he was half-spent from throwing up psychic shields and holding them all evening. After last night’s sexual marathon and the events of today, he dearly needed to rest and recharge. The problem was, Adrienne James was an instant addiction. Once they’d gotten started, he couldn’t get enough. As much as he wished otherwise, fucking her for hours on end was going to have to wait.
Honoring the greater wisdom over his baser instincts, he planned to get her off, get her clean, and take her to bed. Changing his angle, he hit her G-spot and sent her hurtling into oblivion. Her walls convulsed, milking his cock, triggering his climax and squeezing every drop until she’d gotten it all. With his cum acting as a lubricant, he pulled out his barely-softened erection, adjusted his aim, and pushed inside her anus, relishing the feel of her body letting him in and closing around him.
“Yes,” he hissed and dredged her channel again. Ordering her to keep her hands where they were, he grasped the cheeks of her ass hard enough to leave bruises and held her where he wanted, controlling her while he claimed her most intimate passage.
Her pleasure built more slowly this time. Recognizing the need to finish before he was too tired to shower off, he lifted one breast and bit it. Adrienne’s breath hissed. Her keen made Loki whine.
“Settle,” he growled at the dog. Turning his attention back to the woman in his arms, he caught the tip of her breast between his teeth and lashed it with his tongue. Opening wider, he engulfed her nipple with his mouth and sucked hard enough to make her moan again, her body begging for release.
He gave it to her, finding her clit and pinching it. With her tit in his mouth and his cock up her ass, the extra stimulation made her come again, her muscles tightening around his shaft, her breasts jiggling when he ground into her one last time and emptied himself inside her.
“Christ,” he breathed, wondering how in the hell he was going to let her go when her escort came for her. He had dreaded the couriers’ arrival and the thought that he might never see her again. Was it selfish to want to keep her here? She brought peace to his soul for the first time in his life.
When she left, that peace would go with her.
He still hadn’t figured out why she affected him the way that she did. How the voices were silenced and his primal need to claim her as a mate was stirred. The truth was, he didn’t want her to leave.
He hadn’t told Adrienne everything about Mitch. Having delivered the warning, her former lover had given his blessing on their relationship, entrusting Book with her safekeeping and charging him to take care of her. But for how long? Adrienne was here only because circumstances demanded it. She hadn’t planned to come and she hadn’t asked to stay. In her conversations with her parents, she sounded like she looked forward to returning to Whitehaven.
Then again, she could be missing her family, not the place.
If that was the case, she might be persuaded to stay. He intended to try, anyway.
Book sought her lips and kissed her, tongues flirting then dancing with each other. He broke off long enough to let her lower her arms. Relishing the feel of them drifting down to cling to his shoulders, he held himself inside her, driven by the need to keep joined with her for as
long as he could.
Eventually, they made it to the shower.
He took utmost care as he washed her, wishing like hell things were different. If she was his submissive, he could forbid her to leave. The way things stood, it was strictly her decision whether or not to go. Unfortunately, staying meant facing things they couldn’t predict and dealing with circumstances beyond their control. For better or worse, they would be living with the consequences of her choice, including the potential threat posed by the Gray Ghost and his wraiths.
The Flint Hills District wasn’t Austin by any stretch of the imagination. Life in a lodge in the Land of Oz was hardly the same as being the First Daughter in the President’s mansion. The Lost Creek and Shield Maidens club members had it better than most, but they all worked to survive, the same as country people everywhere, living by the seasons, raising what they could and bartering for most of the rest.
The Shield Maidens kept orchards, gardens, and goats. The women made soap and cheese from the milk the goats gave them. They raised and foraged medicinal herbs for the Native clinic and grew fruits and vegetables to grace both clubs’ tables. They made sure to let enough go to seed for next year’s planting. The remainder of the crop was dried, canned, sold, or bartered.
A few of the Maidens worked at Deacon’s stable, the same as some of the men. Members of Lost Creek MC were hunter/gatherers. They raised horses, did repairs, worked various jobs, and traded services for beef and fuel. Deacon’s cousin John Kerrigan saw that they had meat on the table and their underground fuel tank was never pumped dry.
The Shield Maidens had topped off their bikes as soon as they got here, ready to head home tonight or in the morning. Some of them would fuck and go. Others would want to sleep over. A couple, like Duchess, could be persuaded to stay, but it had to be the right man asking.
Most men here were Dominants, and Duchess was as vanilla as they come. She and Deacon had been dancing around each other for months. It was past time for the two of them to get together.
Deacon was itching to expand her horizons but he was taking it slow, unwilling to risk scaring her the fuck off. Book was glad he didn’t have that problem. Nothing seemed to phase Adrienne, whose parents were in the lifestyle. If she stayed long enough, they’d make a list of hard and soft limits to explore. Meanwhile, he was taking notes on her reactions, determined to learn as much about her as he could.
Possessing the maturity of an old soul and the playful nature of a sprite, Adrienne had facets to her personality that intrigued him. Despite a twelve-year gap in their ages, they had similar interests and ethics. They were competitive gamers and compatible lovers.
He’d never envisioned himself with someone long term, but he could see himself growing old with someone like her.
Not someone like her, his inner voice whispered. Her . . .
But for that to happen, she needed to stay.
“What did you say?”
He blinked, pulled from his inner monologue to find Adrienne’s purple gaze on him, a puzzled look in her eyes.
They’d showered long enough to be clean. He turned off the water and reached for a towel.
“I want you to stay,” he said softly, drying her face, her neck, her body, cherishing her with his aftercare. “I’m hoping you’ll stay,” he told her, focusing on his task and avoiding her eyes in case they held an answer he didn’t want to hear.
“Oh, Book,” she breathed, sounding torn.
He finished drying her, dried himself, and led her back to the sofa to finish their conversation. Spreading the blanket he’d used the first night she was here, he sat on it and pulled her down to sit beside him.
“I’ll be honest. I don’t have a lot to offer except for my space, my dog, and my gifts. It sucks that I can’t hear shit right now except the voice of my higher consciousness and it’s been pretty clear. Whatever happens, it’s telling me you’re worth the risk.”
Her brow furrowed and she looked away, her amethyst eyes troubled. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to put you or your club in danger. The Gray Ghost knows I’m here. His wraiths tried to take me once. They could try to take me again.”
They could. There was no use denying something they both knew to be true. Any reassurances he gave might prove to be empty promises. Right now, the future was nebulous, a cauldron of potential events with outcomes influenced by thousands— maybe millions— of others. Stir the pot and— for better or for worse— one person could change everything.
He’d had visions before, portents of things that were imminent and unstoppable. But what he’d seen wasn’t pre-ordained. Their destiny was still being written. The way things stood now, he had no way of knowing what would come, only what might.
Including Gray Ghost’s wraiths coming for her again.
He and Deacon had already discussed what could happen if she stayed. But they’d been thinking days or weeks.
This was something different.
Something more.
Something he wanted with every fiber of his being.
“I can’t explain the connection I feel to you, or why the voices are silent when you’re close by, but I trust how it feels when we’re together. The truth is, I’m not ready to let you go.”
Book pulled her into his arms and held her to his heart that seemed to be beating for her. They would be finding their way together, but a little outside advice might ease her mind and make her more accepting of their situation.
“Tomorrow, I want you to call your Aunt Grace. See what she has to say about this. About us. Maybe she can shed some light on my connection to you. Surely, you feel it, too.”
“I do,” she whispered, returning his hug. “And I don’t need to call Aunt Grace again. I talked to her this afternoon while you were gone. I wanted to tell her about Mitch. It turned out, she knew. Mitch had already been there. I called her again tonight on my first potty break to ask if I needed to worry about Mary. Aunt Grace says that I’ll be safe as long as I’m with you.”
“You will,” he swore, relishing the feel of her arms tightening around him.
“She said we’ve shared multiple past lives, including a couple where we were Vikings. I’m still processing that you’re surrounded by Shield Maidens and I fucking was one. You were my Jarl,” she told him, “and my lover. She said I died defending you. The thing is, I kinda think you died too. All I know is I wasn’t about to let Mary get near you tonight. Not me. You. It’s like I sensed a threat and had this crazy need to protect you from her. Oh, my God! I see it now!”
He was glad someone did. Something was preventing any insights from coming through.
Arching back, she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “I was your shield-maiden, Book. You were my Jarl. I was sworn to protect you. Fifteen hundred years later, my fucking shield’s still up. That’s why you can’t hear when I’m around!”
It made sense to Book. Just knowing about that one lifetime explained a lot. His immediate attraction to her, his sense of responsibility for her, the compelling need he felt to keep her close, and his determination to make her stay.
She canted her head and looked away, searching for a solution to their problem. “There’s got to be something we can do,” she murmured, pensive. “A shield isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Raised, it blocks the voices and lets you sleep at night. But I need to be able to lower it enough to let warnings come through. Right now, you’re deaf to everything when you’re with me. However unintentional, I’m a liability until I learn to control it. Holy crap. I’m sorry.”
Book lowered his chin and pressed his forehead to hers, sharing breaths before kissing her brow. “It will be fine, Texas,” he assured her. “It will all work out. You’ll see. Knowledge is empowerment. You knew the problem. You figured out what’s causing it. You know what to work on to solve it. As single-minded as you are, it wouldn’t surprise me if you’re lifting and lowering shields like weights in a day or two.”
Those amethyst eyes revealed her do
ubts in her abilities. And she had them. A person of power recognized it in another. Whether her gifts came naturally or her psychic abilities had been cultivated, they were there and stronger than she realized.
“Stay,” he asked again, acutely aware that she hadn’t agreed to. He was going to wait before sharing his own visitation, but he needed every advantage when it came to Adrienne. “I think you need to know Mitch told me to take care of you. I promised him I would and I will— even if it means riding with you to Austin . . . and leaving part of me behind when I go.”
Hearing his confession, Adrienne burst into tears.
10
Adrienne hated that he’d made her cry, but that line about going to Austin with her and leaving part of himself behind was one of the most romantic things a man had ever said to her.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, struggling to pull herself together rather than let him see her tears.
Book took it the wrong way. Stiffening, he pulled away from her and braced himself for rejection.
He thought she was going to leave.
“No! No!” she blurted, her grief for Mitch overshadowed by her need to protect Book from himself. “It’s not what you think! Please, Sir!”
The honorific gave him pause.
“Then what is it?” he asked brusquely, sounding strangely vulnerable.
He wasn’t alone.
“It’s just . . . that’s how I’ve felt, needing the couriers to come and dreading it at the same time. I knew that when I went with them, I’d be leaving a part of me at the Lost Creek lodge with you.”
As much as she treasured her time with Mitch, their relationship had served to satisfy her baser needs. Her connection to Book ran deeper and made sex with him so much more meaningful. He was the Dominant she’d been searching for and had never found until now. He made her feel like her circle was complete and her life was in balance. She trusted his Dominant nature to see that her needs would be met, that his discipline would be fair, and his rewards worth the effort it took to earn them.
Twisted Steel: An MC Romance Anthology Page 21
