But given a similar situation at night, could he have used his vamp abilities to detect the bomb?
Maybe, maybe not. It was impossible to tell. And pointless to wonder. Mark was dead, and nothing would change that. As Dad liked to say, “Woulda, coulda, shoulda. Didn’t.”
And in this business, you didn’t get a second chance. If you fucked up, people died. Logan had fucked up, and Mark’s wife and daughter would spend the rest of their lives with an aching emptiness instead of the man they loved.
There were things Logan could do to make their lives a bit easier, things he would do. Mark’s insurance would kick in, and the deputies would band together to do whatever they could for the fallen cop’s family, just as they always did.
But Logan had access to considerable financial resources as the son of Arthur Pendragon, resources he rarely tapped. He would make sure Mark’s bright little girl went to college, that she and her mother wanted for nothing. But none of it would make up for Mark’s loss.
Neither would finding the bastard who had done this and making him pay. Logan was going to do it anyway, just for the sheer joy of taking the murdering bastard down. Even if it meant fucking the first Maja he could find and becoming a vampire.
Even if it meant never seeing Giada Shepherd again.
That thought hit him with a sword stroke of pain, an ache that rivaled his guilt. He turned to look at her hungrily, studying her face in the light of the setting sun. Rose and gold painted the line of her nose, the soft tilt of her lips, the rounded curve of her chin. Her hair was down for once, distilled sunlight lying in tousled curls around her shoulders. Her black T-shirt had bright green lettering that read, “Don’t make me get my flying monkeys.” The shirt was a little too tight, emphasizing the round, lovely swell of her breasts. Jeans clung to her runner’s thighs, faded almost white over the knees and fly.
And she was mortal.
Mortals and Magekind could never marry. He had never questioned that rule. The truth of it was too self-evident. It was one thing to grow old with someone, but to grow old while your partner remained young caused inevitable bitterness and jealousy. It was better to let a mortal find happiness with another mortal.
But Logan had also never fallen in love with a mortal before.
As that thought sliced into his consciousness, he froze, stunned by its sheer power.
In love? With Giada Shepherd?
Holy hell.
He certainly wanted her. Logan remembered the hot, slick grip of her sex, those long, warm legs wrapped around his waist, the taste of her hard nipples, her intoxicating response to his every hard thrust.
But there was more to the attraction than her eager body or her elegant blond beauty. There was that keen intelligence, that sly sense of humor, the courage that had her returning to the job even after a would-be killer took a shot at her.
She was the kind of woman he could imagine spending the rest of his life with. Too bad it wasn’t possible.
Too bad it was time for the Gift. He’d put it off by telling himself he wasn’t ready to attempt the transition, but in truth, he’d had the needed emotional maturity for a while now. He was not a kid anymore.
Maybe on some level he’d been waiting for his Gwen—the Maja who’d capture his heart and draw him into a spiritual Truebond so profound, they became one being.
Instead, he’d met a mortal who made him want what he couldn’t have.
“There is such pain in your eyes.” Giada lifted a hand and laid it against his cheek. Her fingers felt cool and smooth. “I’m so sorry about Davis.”
He started to tell her his pain was not caused by Davis—or not only by Davis. But before he could speak, she rose on her toes and covered his parted lips with her own.
The kiss was exquisitely gentle, an offer of comfort, as delicate as a rose petal. Yet it detonated in his consciousness in a rolling burst of feral need.
His mind catalogued each dizzying sensation: her breasts, so lusciously, delightfully soft, the tips pressing hard against his chest. The warmth of her long legs against his. Her fingers threading through his hair. Her tongue, stroking wet and slick through his lips to touch his own.
Raw sex. Pure tenderness.
With a low groan of hunger, Logan caught Giada’s hips and pulled her against him, wanting to touch every inch of her with every inch of him.
God, she felt incredible. Strong, slim, delightfully female, seduction incarnate.
He was going to have to give her up. There was no choice. But not now.
Not tonight. He could have tonight.
Logan kissed Giada with a white-hot intensity that made her breath catch. Strong hands tugged her against his hips, branding her belly with the hard length of his cock. Arousal curled through her, a response to all that heat, that delicious male strength.
He slid a hand up under the hem of her shirt to take warm possession of her breast. A thumb teased her nipple to full hardness, sent sweet arousal flooding through her. He bit her lower lip, gentle but demanding, and she opened to him with a soft, helpless groan.
Lust boiled up in her, sizzling like water over white-hot stones. Fierce, aching—yet somehow alien. Coming from outside her.
What the hell?
Something burned in the back of her mind like a bright green fuse snaking through her body, setting her afire.
A spell?
Giada frowned and sought out that green thread with her own power. It was the work of an instant to trace it back to its source: the stone around her neck.
In a flash, so much became clear. The mindless lust she’d felt that first time that had erased her self-control, driving her to make love to Logan despite all the reasons it was a really bad idea.
Morgana, you bitch.
A flick of will, and the spell winked out, no match for her new strength.
But Logan’s mouth still moved on hers, coaxing and delicious. One hand cupped her breast under her shirt, thumb flicking her nipple, teasing it hot and hard.
Morgana’s spell might be gone, but the desire remained. Her very own desire, blazing up from her body, her blood. No spell needed but the one Logan cast.
God, he felt good. Too good.
In a flashing moment of clarity, Giada realized she couldn’t sleep with him. It would be his second time, and she had no right to keep him in the dark.
It was time to tell him the truth. To hell with Arthur and Guinevere and their orders. A cop was dead because they’d told her to keep her mouth shut. True, they couldn’t have predicted the way this had gone south, but Davis had still paid with his life.
Like it or not, she had to come clean.
Her stomach promptly tied itself into a sick knot. Logan was going to be furious. He’d never touch her again. Never kiss her with so much heat and longing.
She opened her mouth for the hungry thrust of his tongue, wanting only to drink him in a little longer. She just wanted to extend this fragile moment so she’d have something to remember in the bitterness that would follow.
His strong hands came up to cup her face, cherishing her. Such a sweet illusion. Tears stung her eyes.
I’ve got to do this now, or I never will.
She pulled away with a painful effort, as though ripping the scab off a deep and bleeding wound. Opened her mouth . . .
Not yet.
The vision hit her in a stunning wave of images, each flashing so quickly, there was barely time to register them. Logan, fangs gleaming in his mouth. The sheriff’s grandchildren, Andy and Heather, wearing identical expressions of terror. Heather looking pleadingly up at Logan. Something was strapped around her chest.
Something that had a timer.
Logan leaping at the red-furred Dire Wolf who held Andy a terrified captive in her arms. Giada herself, hurling blasts of fl aming magic at yet another werewolf, this one even bigger, who shook off her attacks with contempt.
I can’t tell him yet.
It was wrong, she knew it in her guts. But she als
o couldn’t ignore her vision. If she told him the truth now, those kids were dead. Even if it meant suffering his rage, she had to make love to him.
What if she explained what she’d seen? No, he’d be too pissed off to believe her. Morgana had tried to play him too often.
Oh, God. He’s going to hate me for this.
“Giada?” Logan frowned down at her, his gaze concerned as he brushed a thumb over the single tear rolling down her cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her smile trembled on her lips. Winding her arms around his neck, she rose on her toes and kissed him, deep and slow, letting her body lean into his. She kissed him as if it would be the last time she ever touched him.
Because it probably would be, at least with this kind of sweet passion. She might convince him he had a duty to become a vampire, but she knew their third time would be angry at best. The very thought made her chest ache.
So let me have this last sweetness.
Logan could taste tears in her kiss, yet her mouth was so exquisitely hungry, almost desperate. As if somehow she knew there was no future for them. He badly wanted to soothe her, but he didn’t have it in him to lie. So instead he kissed her back with all the starved intensity in his soul.
When he could finally bring himself to pull away, he was breathing hard. So was she, despite the tears that beaded her lashes like gemstones.
“Come inside.” Logan caught one cool, delicate hand to draw her after him, then pulled off the ridiculous shirt she was wearing before they were even inside, dropping it heedlessly on the deck. Her bra followed the moment the door was closed behind them.
He stepped back a fraction, the better to enjoy the exquisite sight of her. Her breasts curved in sweet invitation, creamy and full and tipped with tightly erect pink nipples.
Dropping to his knees before her, Logan took one of those hard tips in his mouth. She tasted as delicious as she looked, musk and woman and need. Her moan of pleasure shot to his head like heated bourbon. His cock, already erect, jutted into his fly so hard it hurt.
The delicate pleasure of Logan’s tender suction made Giada shudder in helpless delight. She threaded her fingers through his hair and let her head fall back.
Teeth raked gently over the erect bud of her nipple, sending another exotic spiral of delight up her spine. Heat gathered in her belly, muscles drawing tight with need.
Logan began to explore, one big hand palming her other breast, thumb and forefinger plucking, rolling, stroking. His free hand traced her body, finding the dip of her waist, the rise of her hip. He paused over the ticklish plane of her belly, making her giggle, before continuing on to stroke the long muscles of one thigh.
She closed her eyes, floating in the spell he wove with his hands and mouth. Yet each sweet sensation carried an echo of pain, because he’d never touch her like this again. And she deserved no better. Davis had died today, and she hadn’t saved him.
No. Don’t think about that. She’d pay the price for her failure, but for now, she needed this silken hour. The memory of it would get her through the rest.
Her eyes snapped open as a sudden bolt of desperation shafted through her. She dragged herself away from that impossibly tempting mouth. “I’ve got to touch you. Now. Please . . .”
Hot eyes softened to tenderness at whatever he saw in her face. “All right.”
Logan stood and led the way to the rug that lay in front of the fieldstone fireplace. The thick, soft yarn depicted a knight in gleaming armor kissing a lady in an intricately embroidered green gown, the colors delicate and lovely. Recognizing Guinevere’s work, Giada winced. She banished that flash of guilt as he turned to face her. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, she dragged it over his head.
As always, the sight of Logan’s sculpted masculinity took her breath. She stopped to drink in the sight of him dressed only in jeans, his cock hard and hungry behind his fly. Laying a hand against his muscular chest, she savored the firm warmth, the soft, dark hair that dusted his skin. Unable to resist, she bent and kissed one small male nipple. Her tongue flicked out for a delicate lick, and her eyes slid closed in delight.
She would never forget the way he tasted. Not if she lived to be older than Merlin himself.
Suddenly greedy, Giada reached for the snap of his jeans. The hiss of the zipper sounded impossibly loud against the backdrop of their quickened breathing.
Looking down at the arrow of boxers and tight flesh she’d revealed, Giada caught her breath. The ripe head of his cock thrust over the blue cotton waistband, dark with need. She sank to her knees.
He caught his breath. “Giada, for God’s sake—I’m not made of steel.”
“Could have fooled me.” She aimed a quick grin up at him, then grabbed jeans and boxers simultaneously and began dragging them down over his powerful thighs. He bent to help her skin them off, kicking them away with a careless flick of one big bare foot.
Giada looked up from her knees. He jutted over her head, balls round and furred, the shaft long, thickly veined, dark with arousal. She rose a little until her mouth was even with his erection. He stiffened with an indrawn breath, anticipation in his eyes.
She promptly decided to keep them both in suspense a little longer.
Her hand went right past his cock to trace the jutting angle of one hip. Leaning forward, she kissed him there, aware that her tumbling blond hair teased along his cock as she moved.
He groaned. “You’ve got a sadistic streak, woman.”
Giada gave him wide eyes and a slow, deliberate blink. “Who, me?” Then she ran her tongue over the thin, sensitive flesh across his pelvis. Paused for a nibble right at the crest of the bone, then began to string kisses all around his abdomen, letting the fall of her hair brush and tease his jerking shaft.
A big hand closed in her hair. Giada literally felt him resist the urge to pull her head where he so obviously wanted it. Laughing softly, she turned and pressed a kiss to the side of his cock. It jerked upward in reaction, hot against her lips. She gave him a quick little lap of her tongue. “Mmmm,” she purred. “Château D’Logan, a particularly bold vintage.”
“Wench.”
Giggling, she stroked a hand up one strong leg, savoring the textures of warm skin, muscle, bone, the soft dusting of hair. Her fingers discovered the firm pouch of his balls, surrounded in dark curls, drawn tight to the underside of his cock. She cupped him, and that long shaft jerked again.
“Giada . . .” Logan’s voice sounded ragged.
She smiled ever so slightly . . . and engulfed him without warning, swooping as much of his cock into her mouth as she could manage. His breathing caught.
He tasted of salt and male musk and need. The single bead of arousal on the tip of his cock was just slightly bitter. She suckled hard and felt him shudder, his knees almost buckling.
Giada smiled in satisfaction around her mouthful of thick shaft. I may not forget this, she thought, but you won’t either. Even if you never speak to me again.
Logan wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Giada’s mouth felt exquisitely hot and wet as she suckled him in slow, strong pulls. She was the most erotic sight he’d ever seen as she knelt on that colorful rug, one hand wrapped around his cock, her hair teasing his thighs as it swung with her movements, her lips circling him. He could feel the climax burning up his spine like a fuse, throwing hot white sparks of pleasure as it ran.
This was going to be over way too fast if he didn’t do something. Now.
It took far more willpower than he’d thought he even had to pull out of her silken mouth. “Enough.” His voice sounded ragged to his own ears. “I want to play, too.”
“You weren’t enjoying that?” She pouted at him, but the glint in her gray eyes told him she knew better.
Logan lay down on the floor on his back and drew her to kneel astride his face. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.” He licked her in a single long, satisfying stroke.
“What was the question again?” To
his immense satisfaction, the last syllable of that word spiraled upward into a squeak.
“Dunno. But I think the answer is sixty-nine.” Her giggle became a yip as he parted her delicate pink lips with his fingers and started giving her the attention she deserved. She was deliciously wet already, all cream-slick flesh, tight and rosy. The scent was so incredibly arousing, he shuddered at the storm front of need that roared through him. He hadn’t even realized he could get this turned on.
Savoring that need, loving the taste and scent and textures of her, Logan swirled his tongue over and around each silky fold. He reached his free hand down her body to find one breast, began to pinch and twist the tight little nipple.
As if in echo, slender fingers closed around his cock, and she took him in again, one long and ruthless swoop into delight. He suspected his eyes rolled back in his head.
The first hot spasm shot up his spine, making his thighs jerk and his back arch, tearing a strangled cry from his lips. A hot tide of energy rolled over him next, swirling and wild, ripping a startled yell from his lips.
She stopped, lifted her head. “Logan?”
“Stop. I’m about to come.” He’d thought for a moment he’d already lost it, but his balls were still tight, still aching with frustrated hunger.
And he wanted in her.
Logan’s thrumming control snapped like a bowstring, and he caught her around the waist. Tumbling her onto her back on the soft rug, he rose over her, took her delicious legs in his hands, and spread her wide.
He drove his cock deep in one ruthless thrust. Giada’s lovely gray eyes flew wide in surprise, and she gasped.
With an effort of supreme will, he managed to stop. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no, God no!” Her long legs curled around his waist, dragging him close with surprising strength. “Don’t stop!”
So he braced himself on his arms and began to ride in long, searing strokes that made them both shudder.
How does it keep getting better? Giada wondered wildly as his body rocked hers with each breath-stealing lunge. He filled her completely, thick and amazing, the muscles of his braced arms working as he moved. Sweat gleamed on his shoulders, and his powerful chest heaved. His gaze was focused on her face, his dark eyes wide with wild delight. A muscle in his jaw flexed as though he were grinding his teeth, fighting for control.
Master of Fire Page 14
