Tonight she didn’t feel broken. Tonight she wasn’t scared of her feelings or what Kagan would think of her. Tonight she felt only freedom. Freedom and lust for the man pressed tight to her. A frisson of warning skittered through her stomach. Mira pushed it aside. Another wave of heat, stronger than before, rose to sweep her away. Kagan’s hands clenched her hips and her mark seared white-hot. She’d never felt this powerful before.
• • •
Kagan gazed at Mira’s flushed face through eyes at half-mast. Hours before she wouldn’t acknowledge him. Now her gaze burned hot with passion. He swallowed hard. She ground against his thigh and nuzzled his neck. He’d wanted to get her in private tonight, discuss their relationship, this growing attraction. Try to reason out the mess of a situation between them. What he needed was space and distance to think. What he got was her hand thrust into the front of his jeans. She fisted his length, and coherent thought became nigh impossible. He stared into her fever-bright eyes and fought for control. Then her thumb traced the blunt head of his cock, and Kagan’s rational brain was officially shot to hell.
Mira grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled him to her for an open-mouthed kiss. Her tongue dueled with his. His fingers dug into her hip while his other hand clutched the hair at her nape. She slapped him away, thrust her own digits deep into his buzz-cut, her nails dragging against his scalp and forcing his head back. She took full advantage of the exposed flesh of his throat. Her hand released the heavy thickness of his shaft and loosened the top button on his fly. Kagan groaned, the urge to submit overwhelming. His shirt pulled free from his jeans and cold air swept over his abdomen. Her teeth grasped his sensitive lobe, and his thighs shook with the effort to maintain balance. Mira’s voice snarled hot in his ear. “Hit the floor, Scion.”
His cock jerked in response. Mira’s hand tugged the short hair at his nape and guided him to his knees. Helpless to resist, he leaned forward, his face pressed to her soft belly while she gyrated against him. A stray, unwelcome idea flickered through his mind. Wrong. Something was wrong. Her nails scraped over the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck and his worries were quickly forgotten. He grasped the hem of her shirt and dove beneath to caress her exposed skin. “Anything, carissima. Tell me what you need.”
“I want—I want—” Mira’s voice faltered. She swayed, her thighs parting slightly.
His cheek rested against her molten core. The scent of her arousal buzzed inside him, swarming his senses. He placed a kiss above her waistband. “Cristo! I need you.”
Her hands pulled him closer and she arched against him, her head thrown back in ecstasy.
• • •
Xander’s warrior instincts went ballistic. His gaze narrowed on a crowd that would have made the Marquis de Sade proud. Half the dancers writhed beneath dominant partners. Others were being ridden like horses, belts wielded whip-like to smack crisp across exposed tender flesh. Still more were bound tight with their own clothing, being slapped and pinched, groped and prodded. By appearances, everyone was enjoying themselves immensely. Xander tracked the dominants to one central point. Mira.
She ruled the assembled crowd while wielding her power over the warrior at her feet. Xander choked on his beer. Pure pleasure filled Kagan’s face. The Seal’s mark glowed through the fabric of Mira’s top, its power surging. Mira ripped Kagan’s shirt open and left it to hang off his arms while he knelt before her. On cue, the crowd repeated the gesture. Soon, shredded garments scattered the floor. The activity spread to other areas as well. Beside him, the busty bartender moaned and writhed beneath a guy on the counter. Even the DJ had joined in. Pinned to the wall by a patron, his expression was rapturous while his partner tore away his clothes.
Only one other person remained unaffected by the madness. Lost in her own world, Zoe twirled alone in a corner of the platform. As though sensing his gaze, she glanced up and met his stare before turning her attention to the surrounding couples.
Her red sweater blazed like a flare amidst the sadistic mayhem. Zoe positioned herself at the center of the floor and bowed her head. A silent pulse of energy rippled the air. Time slowed. Bodies slumped to the ground. Mira collapsed in a heap at Kagan’s knees. Zoe held Xander’s stare for an interminable second. Then, with a whoosh, all returned to normal.
Xander crossed the dance floor toward her. She darted away, disappearing through a doorway at the rear of the club. The energy pulse was all the proof he needed. Proof he recognized like his own reflection. Zoe was a psychic—a pretty powerful one too, if she could affect time. Far-off childhood memories of a dark-haired boy alone in a white room full of monitors and electrodes crashed upon him. He shook them off and went after Zoe.
His sigil glowed and he halted. Skata! What the hell could Divinity need now? Xander’s curse echoed as he disappeared.
Chapter 11
Reality crashed down hard around Kagan, and he tried to remember what had happened. He stared at his shredded shirt then at Mira crumpled before him on the floor. Her top was singed where the Seal’s mark had burned through the material. Images of his submission flashed through his mind. The irresistible urge to yield to her desires lingered. His body continued to vibrate with excitement, his cock pulsing in time with his frantic heart. Oca! He’d known the Seal was trouble.
After a quick scan, he spotted Wyck and Chago disengaging themselves from their shell-shocked partners. With a nod to him, they each cloaked and departed. Kagan scooped up Mira and followed suit. Not to the rendezvous point at Wyck’s. Not yet. Not when he could still taste her on his lips and questions hung between them like overstuffed piñatas waiting to burst.
Moments later, he strode across the concrete floor of his apartment and deposited Mira on the sofa. She curled into a fetal ball and shivered. Kagan removed the remnants of his shirt and yanked a new one out of the closet without looking, his attention focused on Mira. He tossed a blanket over her and his eyes snagged on her heavy shoes. Merda! Nobody could sleep with those things on.
He unlaced them and pulled the boots free, revealing aqua blue fuzzy socks beneath. Her small foot fit entirely in one of his large hands. He remembered her assault on Argus and the guards in the department store and wondered how such a small woman could pack such a wallop. Pride welled within him. He stroked her arch with his thumb and smiled when she grumbled. Ticklish. Good to know.
Kagan dropped her footwear beneath the window then strode to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. He downed the entire bottle in one long gulp and tossed the empty into the sink before twisting the cap off another. This mission was not going as planned. Not at all. In three short days, he’d violated every Scion rule for targets and responsibilities. More surprising still, he’d done it with a smile. Vaff! What was wrong with him? He’d never strayed from orders, and he’d never slept with a target. Never.
Yet here he was, halfway through a mission that should have been completed days ago, lusting after Mira like a buck in first rut. Flashes of the softness of her belly pressed to his face, the scent of her arousal, the stroke of her fingers on his cock, sent a shudder through him. He glanced out the window at the snow falling beneath the yellow glow of the streetlamp. The wind had picked up since they’d left the club, now blustering to whip the snow into a frothy, glittering swirl.
An extended moan issued from the sofa and Mira sprang up. She squinted at him through her tangled hair, her expression confused. Desire rode him hard. He chugged his second beer and went in search of stronger poison. Cristo! He needed more than ale to make it through this night unscathed. Kagan searched the contents of the cabinets and fished out bourbon and two glasses.
They’d be having that talk now.
• • •
The bottle clunked on the table and Mira winced, clutching the blanket tight.
“I believe you owe me an explanation, Mira.” Kagan’s tone was brisk and strained. He poured the bourbon and held a glass out to her. She ignored him and scooted farther into her corner of the couch, aw
ay from his disturbingly male presence. Kagan forced the drink between her unresponsive fingers. His skin brushed hers. An unrelenting tingle raced up her arm. He stared at the spot where their hands touched before slumping into the leather cushion beside her. “Drink it, Mira. You need it.”
Mira swirled the liquor in her glass and tried to remember a time when she’d been more mortified. As if the scene in Wyck’s bathroom hadn’t been bad enough, now her performance at the club tonight took top honors. Kagan probably thought he had a pretty good handle on her issues, but he was wrong. She sipped her bourbon. Mira wasn’t a drinker, but damn, she needed an escape.
Kagan’s intense gaze zeroed in on her. Something in their midnight-blue depths made her heart race faster. She gulped her liquor and looked away. Coward. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs and his drink dangling between his knees. She attempted to swallow past the knot of tension in her throat. Her eyes flicked to the proof of his arousal, blatant behind the faded denim. Mouth dry, her gaze fell. Shit.
Kagan drained the contents of his glass, then thumped the tumbler down hard on the coffee table. His lips were thin, bloodless, and his expression brooked no argument. “What exactly are we doing here, Mira?”
She tucked her legs beneath her and crossed her arms, her voice less than determined. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
His finger traced the fleece covering her thigh, his gaze narrowed on the pattern. “I wouldn’t call what happened tonight nothing.”
She shook her head. “No, I’d call it a mistake.”
“I see. A mistake.” Kagan fisted the blanket.
She seriously doubted he saw anything. No one understood her shame, her guilt, the permanent taint of filth on her soul. She chugged the rest of her bourbon. It burned her throat and she choked. Tears ran down her cheeks, and Kagan thumped her back hard. The hacking ended on a hiccup.
His hand continued to rub in slow circles, warming her far more than the fleece. She’d stopped choking, yet he was still rubbing her back. Fuck. Mira reached for the bottle. What the hell, right? If one’s good, more’s better. At least maybe she wouldn’t remember the events of this horrendous freak show of an evening.
Kagan caught her wrist before she made contact. His other hand continued its hypnotic massage. “You’ve had enough, piccola.”
He cuddled her close to his side and Mira hiccupped again. His hand moved to massage her nape, and she barely contained a purr of pleasure. The decadent shiver that followed was beyond her control. It had been too long since someone had touched her. Since she’d let anyone close enough to try. His deep chuckle flowed over her, smoother than the liquor floating through her veins. “Feel good, piccola?”
The harsh wind rattled against the frosted windowpane and snapped Mira from her bliss. Reminded her why she needed to flee. This was not reality. Reality was outside in the bitter cold. Alone. She slipped her legs from under the blanket, frowning when her blue socks appeared.
Kagan followed the direction of her gaze. “I took them off while you were . . . indisposed. Don’t worry. They’re under the window.” His lips twisted and he looked away. “You’re quite attached to those boots.”
Mira shrugged, avoiding the underlying question. “Part of the uniform.”
“Si, the uniform,” Kagan said. He finished off another glassful of liquor, and Mira glanced at the bourbon. How much had he guzzled? Half the bottle was gone. “Which uniform are you referring to, piccola? The one for kicking ass or the one for scaring people away? Oh, wait. They’re the same, aren’t they, Mira?”
She glared and threw the blanket off. “Kicking ass is my job, Kagan. I’m fine.”
“Right.” Kagan rolled the empty glass between his fingers, his expression unreadable. “You’re a regular people magnet.”
Mira’s cheeks heated. His assessment struck too close to home. “You know what? Fuck you, Kagan.” She got up and stalked to the windows. “Who the hell are you to criticize me? Last time I checked, there wasn’t a line forming for your sparkling personality, either.”
His harsh laugh rang loud. “Touché, piccola. We’re both stellar examples of why it’s best to stay alone.”
“I’m perfectly happy with my life, and I don’t need you or anybody else screwing it up.” She swiped for her boots. Pain radiated down her arm, and she winced. Dammit! “I protect myself—”
Kagan’s restraining hand cut her short. She hadn’t heard him move, yet there he was, too close for her comfort. He swung her around to face him. His eyes blazed with fury. “You can protect yourself. Si, I know. The point you’re missing is you don’t have to anymore. Your protection is my job now.” He yanked her closer. His thighs brushed hers and his heat surrounded her. “And I always get the job done, piccola.”
She struggled. “I told you I don’t want your protection.”
“Basta!” His fingertips traced her shoulder. He encountered the searing heat of her mark and his breath hissed. She tried to wrench free, but he held tight. “You need me, Mira. Admit it.”
She shook her head, twisting to free herself. His hand tangled in her hair, locking her gaze to his. “You need me for this.”
His lips crushed hers and Mira whimpered. His fingers trailed from her cheek to her jaw line. His mouth followed suit, and she sucked in a needed breath. He tasted of rich bourbon and vanilla. He smelled of warm Mediterranean nights and sunbaked shores and home. “Let me inside, Mira.”
He returned to trace the seam of her lips with his tongue, and she gave a defeated sigh, allowing him entry. How could she fight when every molecule screamed for his touch? Sensation flooded her like a tsunami. Mira moaned, fisting his hair and urging him closer. He pulled away and she whined in protest. “Show me you mean it, Mira.”
She trembled. Her sexual forays were limited at best. What if he was disappointed? Discarded her like used trash? Like McClaine had?
“Relax, piccola.” His thumb stroked her tremulous chin and his lips descended. This time, when his tongue danced with hers, she gave a tentative swish of her own. His delighted moan surprised and aroused her. He broke away long enough to give her all the reassurance she needed. “Si, carissima. More. I want more.”
Her movements grew bolder with his encouragement, and soon her tongue soon dueled with his, her hands relaxing to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. Kagan lifted her higher against him. His hot, rigid shaft thrust against her core and she gasped. His lips trailed to her ear and he pressed forward. “Cristo, carissima! Feel what you do to me.”
Mira clutched at his massive shoulders. His hands slid under her thighs, lifting them to wrap around his waist as he stood. He walked to the windows and set her on the ledge, all the while dusting kisses along her jaw. The contrast of Kagan’s heat to her front and the icy storm behind made her desire soar. Her tongue traced the corded tendon on the side of his neck, gathering the salty taste of his skin. His moan rumbled deep beneath her lips, fueling a sudden need for more. Kagan’s hand trailed up her torso, stopping below the swell of her breast. His other twined in her curls and tugged, allowing him full access to her throat. He nibbled her pulse point while his thumb brushed across her straining nipple. She bucked forward and he smiled against her neck. “So sensitive, carissima.”
He grazed the taut peak again and Mira was lost. She arched backward and filled his palm with her needy flesh. Cool air rushed over her torso. Kagan had removed her shirt before she could protest. He pressed his lips to the racing pulse in her throat and released the clasp of her bra, sliding the straps down. She immediately released him, cinching her arms across her chest to keep the cups in place. Her head lowered and her attention remained steadfast on the floor. He clasped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “Let me see you, mio tesoro.”
His lips returned to hers while he shrugged free of his own shirt. His golden skin mesmerized her as much as the fingers tracing the upper curve of her breasts. “Now we’re equal, carissima. Per favore, Mira.”
She relaxed into his gentle touch and let the garment slip to the floor. Mira squeezed her eyes shut against the reaction she was sure would come. His hands fell away and silence ensued. Her worst fears were realized. He’d witnessed the sleaze left behind by her attacker and wanted no part of it. Mira shifted, uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny. Salty tears prickled behind her lowered lids. What scrap of pride she had left screamed for her to escape. But Kagan’s arms braced on either side of her prevented any retreat. Mira lifted wary eyes, hedging against the inevitable pain. Her violator had been right. Her body wasn’t up to snuff, her sexual charms non-existent.
She didn’t find the expected disdain or judgment. Instead, she found a gaze filled with hunger and undisguised need. Rejection she could handle. Unleashed, rampant sexual hunger? Not so much. His passionate stare ignited the spark of her passion into a full-blown wildfire. Years of taunts and verbal abuse at the hands of her foster care rent-a-daddies faded to a distant murmur. Kagan’s fingers traced her collarbone, easing her into his touch. His voice was a calming lull to her skittish nerves. “Easy, carissima. Let me enjoy you.”
He took his time to learn her shape. Kagan cupped and kneaded, his fingertips brushing atop the swollen peaks of her nipples. She arched into his gentle touch, submitting to his mastery. He took advantage, nibbling the sensitive column of her exposed neck. Her thighs squeezed tight round his waist as the wind outside howled. He captured a stiff nipple in the furnace of his mouth and suckled until she begged for mercy, continuing to torment the sensitive peak with gentle nips before soothing her flesh with his tongue.
Seven Seals, Books 1 & 2 Page 13
