by Patti O'Shea
She nipped at his wrist and moved to his forearm. “I’m turned on by a man’s arms, his shoulders—and, McCabe? You have the sexiest body I’ve ever seen.”
After nuzzling the inside of his elbow, she continued her exploration. Though she was lying close to him, Mika kept her weight on the bed, hoping that position wouldn’t trigger Conor’s Kiverian need to hold the dominant position.
“I’ve already told you how I feel about your arms.” Mika bit his biceps muscle, then kissed her way to the inside of his upper arm. He shuddered as she licked the skin there.
She made a brief stop at his shoulder, before moving down to his collarbone, then his chest. McCabe had great pecs, and she told him that as she kissed and touched him. She bit the muscle around his nipple and licked that small nub. His entire body went rigid, and she studied him for a moment. He definitely liked this, and she smiled before shifting to his other side. To add to his torment, Mika dragged the tips of her breasts over his stomach.
Conor managed to stay mostly quiet, although she did surprise an occasional grunt from him as she did her best to arouse him. It was a shame he was so contained, but that only inspired her to work harder.
Running her mouth along his sternum, she began chanting the words to the rauthima ritual, her voice softer than a whisper; but instead of making it random, she substituted Conor’s name. Mika knew the summoning part of the rite wouldn’t affect him, but the phrases that incited sexual frenzy should. She kept herself attuned to him, and saw his hands fist as he struggled to remain still. His body jerked, his breathing became ragged and then he groaned.
Mika moved further down his torso, tracing the ridged muscles over his stomach with her lips. “Damn, McCabe,” she said, interrupting the ritual. “I don’t know how much weightlifting you do, but it’s worth it.” She rimmed his bellybutton with her tongue. “You’re incredible.”
And he was. His abdomen was absolutely perfect. Mika clenched her thighs, trying to control her arousal. She nipped at the flesh below his navel, and looked up at him through her lashes. Conor stared back and, when their eyes met, the world seemed to shift. Or at least her portion of it.
He was her mate. Hers.
As she moved her mouth down the line of hair beneath his belly button, Mika reached out and cupped him. He’d recoiled again, and she smiled against his body before resuming the rauthima rite.
His arousal rested against her cheek, but although she gave it a few strokes with her hand, she didn’t take him in her mouth. Instead, she sat back on her knees and evaluated him. Still contained. But she hadn’t finished the ritual yet. “Make room,” she ordered, tapping his inner thigh.
McCabe obeyed with an alacrity that was startling, given his usual disposition. Mika gave a smile she hoped he found sexy, and crawled over to kneel between his legs. Cupping her breasts, she rolled her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. That earned her a loud, low growl. She spoke the last phrase of the spell she was casting.
It was slightly harder than she expected, but she bent over him without losing her balance. She took his erection between her breasts and used her hands to push herself more tightly around him. Then she started to move. Between the light sheen of sweat on her body and the moisture of his lust, he was able to slide smoothly across her flesh.
Conor wasn’t quiet anymore. Between groans, he cursed, and she figured that was his way of trying to maintain control.
Finally, when she felt it was the right moment, she paused. She waited until he looked at her; then, with a naughty smile, Mika bent down and licked the tip that jutted from between her breasts. Then she closed the ritual. She almost felt his self-command snap.
There was nothing contained about Conor as he threw her on her back and covered her with his body. The sounds he made were demonic. And that, more than anything else, told Mika he was completely lost.
Although it was the last thing she wanted, Mika moved her hips, keeping him for a moment from penetrating her. “Conor, remember this.”
He looked at her blankly. “What?”
“Remember this moment and how you feel right now, okay?”
McCabe nodded, but he obviously would have agreed to anything to get inside of her. As he slid himself along her sensitive flesh, she would have agreed to anything to get him inside her, but she was doing this for him, and she loved him enough to keep sight of her goal. Even as painful as this was.
“Damn it.” She pinched his behind, startling him. “Take stock of how you feel right now, of how much you ache for me. I want you to remember this afterward, do you understand?” she demanded.
For a brief moment, there was a lucidity in his gaze that convinced her she’d actually gotten through to him, so this time when he nodded, she went still, allowing Conor to guide himself inside her.
He wasn’t slow or careful. This was a Kiverian male who’d been pushed past his limits, and he took her that way, thrusting forward with one, forceful stroke. Pleasure shot through her, making her eyes roll back as she gasped. Knowing that when he came to his senses he’d be anguished at the idea of being too rough, she hurried to correct any misapprehension.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Hard and fast. The way we both want it.”
Without any more delay, Conor slammed into her hard enough to make the headboard bang into the wall. The sound made her smile for an instant, because it was proof of how much he desired her. He bit her, his teeth sinking into her shoulder, and Mika moaned in appreciation.
She dug her nails into his shoulders and, clinging to him, raised her legs, allowing him to drive deeper. That earned her a snarl of approval as he shifted, hooking her knees over his upper arms. It allowed him to penetrate to an even greater depth. But Mika knew there was also consideration in his action: Now she didn’t have to work to hold the position.
She lifted her hips as best she could to meet his next thrust. There seemed still to be a tiny sliver of him that was holding back, watching to make sure he didn’t hurt her. Deliberately, Mika worked to destroy even that. Since he liked sex-talk, she told him very explicitly what she wanted him to do, how much she liked it. As aroused as she was, the words were coming out one, maybe two at a time, and she was nearly incoherent, but it was enough to sever Conor’s last strand of control.
Their mating became animalistic. They bit at each other’s shoulders, arms, chests, wherever they could reach. His hands shifted, gripped her sides, and she clawed at her mate as fever raged between them. There was no noise in the room except for grunts and groans and the sounds of their flesh.
Mika reveled in the strength of Conor’s body, in the power of his strokes—in the knowledge that she had allowed him a freedom he’d never had with any other female. She’d given him the gift of being able to lose his self-control without worrying.
As he pushed her closer to climax, she couldn’t think any more, couldn’t do anything but experience their mating. Conor felt so damn good inside her, so right.
“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice deep and harsh. When she did, he said, “You’re mine.”
If she’d had the energy, Mika would have cried out with sheer joy. “Yours,” she agreed, and he bared his teeth in what could only be a satisfied smile. “And you’re mine,” she added.
His expression became even more pleased; then he picked up his speed again, forcing her over the edge so unexpectedly that she screamed. McCabe shattered too, and his release intensified hers. The sound that escaped him was inhuman, and she loved it.
She loved him.
Mika wasn’t sure how long it took before she had enough energy to open her eyes, but Conor continued to lie atop her. He’d released her legs and they sprawled open, boneless. She laughed silently and McCabe muttered a complaint at the motion.
“You know what that grumbly tone does to me,” she said, arching her hips. “You’re trying to get me hot again, aren’t you?”
He lifted his head so she could see his incredulous expression. “Honey, y
ou can’t want more.”
Raising herself, she gave him a loud, smacking kiss, and with a giggle dropped back to the bed. “Damn, McCabe, that was good. You have to do me like that again. But not right now.”
“You sound smug, but you’re the one who screamed.”
“Now who’s smug?” She laughed.
“Hey, I earned the right.”
There was such lightheartedness in his banter that Mika laughed again. She liked him this way, wanted to see it more often. “I’ll let you earn it again after we heal a little.”
“Heal?” He looked down her, and his entire body went rigid. “Damn, Mika—I’m sorry. How bad did I hurt you?”
“You didn’t hurt me. The love nips are already closing. Besides, I think you got the worst of it.” A drop of blood had trickled from his shoulder to his elbow, and Mika ran her index finger up the path it had taken, removing the track from his skin. “I didn’t just bite you, I also scratched up your back and arms pretty good. Do you want me to apologize?”
“No,” he said, voice thick. “I enjoyed it. A lot.”
“That goes both ways, McCabe. I loved the biting too. Don’t forget that I’m as much demon as you are.” But now Mika hesitated. Could she chance completing her plan when she’d already worried him about how rough he’d been? In the long run, this would lift some of the burden he carried. Maybe.
“You went all serious on me. What are you thinking?” he asked.
Mika brought her legs in closer, cradling him between her thighs, and said, “Do you remember that moment I told you to keep in your mind? You know, just before you got inside me.”
For a moment, he just stared at her, then he said, “Yeah?”
“Could you have stopped?” He looked at her blankly, not understanding. “If I’d said no, could you have stopped?”
“You said no?” He appeared stricken. He went so pale, she worried he was going to be sick, and Mika hurried to comfort him, her hands caressing his sides.
“I didn’t say no. You didn’t force me, I swear.”
He didn’t look as if he believed her.
“I said, if I had asked you to stop. I never said stop.”
An expression that was almost hopeful skittered across his face. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”
“Of course not. I love what we did.”
The tension left his body and he collapsed atop her again. That drove home to her just how deeply this affected him. Wrapping her arms around Conor, Mika stroked his back and made soothing noises. She’d never meant to do this to him. She hadn’t wanted to cause anguish.
It didn’t take long before he pulled away from her, settling to her side. She missed his weight. “What’s this about, then?” he asked.
His question sounded angry, but Mika knew it was because she’d scared him. Worried him. Slowly, she sat up and turned to face him. “Do you remember how you were at that point in time? When all you wanted was to have me?”
Conor nodded once, the motion jerky.
“You were frenzied, out of control.” Or near enough. That last strand had been negligible, and it had broken.
Another nod. He was closed up again, and Mika rested a hand over her heart. Her chest ached, but she had to do this, had to make him think. If she didn’t, he’d never be able to move past his background, never be able to relinquish the hate he harbored. She couldn’t let him live the rest of his life like that. Maybe this idea of hers wouldn’t work, maybe she was hurting him with no end benefit, but it would take something harsh to make him question his beliefs.
“You don’t have to answer aloud. You don’t even have to come up with an immediate answer for yourself, but the question is: Could you have stopped if I’d changed my mind at that moment?”
He opened his mouth to reply, and Mika reached out, resting two fingers lightly on his lips. “No. Think about it and be honest with yourself. You didn’t even hear me at first when I asked you to note how you felt. I had to pinch you to get your attention, and then your mind only cleared for an instant.”
Mika paused, hesitated, then plunged ahead. “The rauthima summoning ritual would have left your father just as frenzied as you.”
“You recited the ritual. That’s what you were murmuring.” McCabe jerked away from her touch and got to his feet. She chased after him and grabbed his arm near the doorway.
“Conor—”
“There’s no excuse for what that bastard did,” he said.
Mika shook her head. “No, there isn’t. That’s not what I’m saying.” Oh, hell, she was making a mess of this. “But maybe you can let go of some of the hate you feel for your father. There are things about being a demon that are unlike being human. We…we are what we are. That’s not an excuse,” she hurried to say before McCabe could turn away, “but sometimes things aren’t as black and white as you see them in your mind.”
For a moment Conor glared down at her; then his eyes iced over. With cold deliberation, he broke her hold and walked away.
Chapter Thirteen
For three days, Mika had been living in a fool’s paradise. She knew it, but was in no hurry to change things; and Conor, it seemed, shared her desire. After he’d walked away from her that afternoon, he’d gone to his weight room and worked out. When he’d emerged, body shaking from fatigue and sweat dripping from him, they’d both begun the pretense.
But acting as if she hadn’t used the rauthima ritual, as if she hadn’t given him an object lesson, didn’t make it go away. It hung between them like a precariously balanced sword, a blade that could fall at any moment. Or maybe it was Mika’s guilt giving her that sense. Her lies weighed heavily on her.
She leaned in the doorjamb of the bedroom and watched Conor. He was intent on his computer, no doubt scrolling through the news for some clue to the whereabouts of the demons after her. He was intent on keeping her safe, and as much as she wished otherwise, she really was in danger from the Dark Ones.
His scowl deepened, and he leaned forward slightly. Mika guessed that meant he’d found something of interest, but as she sauntered toward him, it wasn’t the screen she focused on. She loved him. Her feelings seemed to grow, to strengthen each day. And it scared her. As intense as her emotions were, Mika knew it would probably frighten her even if she weren’t lying to Conor, but the fact that she’d been dishonest, that she continued to hide her mission from him, left her terrified. She couldn’t lose McCabe.
When she reached him, Mika slid her arms around his shoulders from behind, relishing the freedom she had in touching him, the easy way he turned to meet her lips.
“Come back to bed,” she enticed, although she doubted he’d take her up on the offer. He was already wearing his jean jacket, and that meant he was armed and ready to go.
“Don’t tempt me.” McCabe powered down the computer.
Mika gently turned his head toward her with her palm and kissed him again. “But we both like it when I do.” She smiled and nipped at his lower lip. “Especially when you give in.”
Conor stood, breaking her embrace, and taking her hand he pulled her to the front door. “Give me a rain check. There’s something I want to look into.”
What could she say? He was investigating so that he could protect her. Just because she wanted the world to go away in order to enjoy her vishtau mate didn’t mean that either of them could ignore the events swirling around them.
“You know you don’t need a rain check,” she said. “You can have me anytime, anywhere.”
He leaned down to take her mouth, and he was much less controlled, but it only lasted a moment before he drew back. Resting his forehead on hers, he asked, “How the hell do you do this to me?”
“You know you like it.” She slid her hands into the back pockets of his jeans and tugged his hips to hers. She started to grind her pelvis into his, but Conor freed himself.
“Hold that thought, honey.” Giving her a last peck, he picked her up and moved her to the side.
Le
t him go, she told herself, and wrapped her arms around her waist to keep from reaching for him. “Be careful, okay?”
Conor paused. “Stop fussing,” he groused, but she picked up a thread of pleasure in his complaint.
“It’s my prerogative to fuss.” She shifted to see his profile. “I love you.”
He made the grumbling noise that turned her on, and started to turn toward her. With a curse, he stopped, shook his head and hightailed it out of the house.
Mika laughed as the door closed behind him. She shouldn’t find this amusing, and she sure shouldn’t try to prevent him from leaving. There were a ton of books left to get through, and if she didn’t find the spell among them, other places to look after that. The humor seeped away and she sighed.
There was wiggle room in her promise to the Council and she was using those shades of gray, exploiting them as much as she could to slow her search. She didn’t want to find the incantation, but Mika knew she wouldn’t be able to stall for much longer. Either she located the spell or the Council would be in contact to demand answers for her failure.
Reluctantly, she walked toward the bookcase. Before she reached it, a glint caught her eye. Her barrette lay against the wall, probably in the same place where Conor had tossed it the other night. Mika retrieved it and, using her hands to smooth back her hair, she clipped it up to keep it out of her way as she worked.
Instead of tackling her chore, though, she went around the room and pulled the blinds. It was getting dark outside and that’s when the watcher came. She’d sensed him the last three nights and didn’t like feeling exposed. There was nothing she could do about the lack of window cover in the kitchen, but she simply wouldn’t go in there when the lights were on.
Sighing, Mika sank onto the sofa. She’d changed her mind again; whoever was watching the house and the auric assassin were two different people. An auric assassin was too skilled, too powerful to be unable to cloak himself completely. It couldn’t be him outside.
