* * * * *
Taylor grabbed her around the waist and lifted her, swung her around before letting her slide down his body. His cock was hard and thick and aching, the tip already wetting the loose-fitting black pajama bottoms they’d given him before he exited the con cell.
She hiked up her skirt, pulled on his neck to bring her legs around his waist and wrapped him fiercely between her thighs. “I missed you,” she told him. “I need you, Tater.”
“I don’t think I can wait,” he said. Swooping down, he claimed her lips almost savagely, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth. There was a storage room just off the corridor and he headed for it. With one arm clamped tightly around her body, he used the other to open the storage room door. Stumbling inside with her, he kicked the door shut with his bare foot.
Mouths fused, he pushed her onto a table and shoved his hands between her legs to tear at her thong. She arched her hips to give him better leverage and when the little scrap of material came away with a snap, she groaned. His answering moan drove her hands into his hair.
Taylor shoved the waistband of his hospital pajamas down then jerked her forward and onto the blistering hot tip of his cock—driving deep with a harsh grunt. Hips pistoning, he thrust into her so hard the table beneath her ass banged against the wall.
“Shh, Taylor!” she cautioned against his invading mouth.
His answer was to growl and ram harder. He wanted to claim her anew, wipe away all traces of the other male who had dared usurp his territory. Frenzied lust drove him as he dug his fingers into her sweet rump and snapped his hips forward with building force.
“Easy boy,” she said before he rammed his tongue into her mouth to silence her.
She was slick and hot and tight around him. The clenching muscles of her cunt tightened and released, tightened and released as he drove into her. With each forward push her legs squeezed fiercely around his waist to spur him on.
When he came, he came hard, violently and with one final flick of his hips he held himself steady inside her as spurt after spurt of hot seed pulsed from his straining cock. She was clawing at his shoulders, moaning. She was close so he clutched her ass hard—holding her still beneath him—and when the release overtook her, he muffled her cry of pleasure with his mouth. While the quick little squeezes were still milking him, he snapped his hips back and the soft barb at the end of his shaft dragged over her clit. Inside his mouth her scream scalded his tongue as pure intoxicating pleasure rippled through her.
Heart beating wildly, panting, sweat pouring down the sides of his face and from under his arms, he held her there as wave after wave of intense satisfaction continued to undulate through her body. When the last little clench faded, he released her mouth and moved back just enough so he could look into her lust-sated eyes.
“You belong to me,” he said fiercely. “Me and only me.”
“Yes,” she managed to whisper. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her face was flushed, eyes glazed with spent passion.
“And don’t you ever forget it,” he ordered.
“Never.”
He pulled her to him to hold her tenderly now but with firm possession. He put his chin atop her head and closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of gardenia from her hair.
Five minutes passed as he continued to hold onto her.
Ten.
“I’ve got to go pack,” she said.
Reluctantly he released her, then put both hands to the sides of her face, locking his eyes on hers. He lowered his head and looked up at her through the sweep of his eyelashes. She’d often told him it was one of his tells. When he spoke to her in that way, she knew he was being very serious, no-nonsense serious.
“There will be twenty agents watching over you,” he said. “We’ll be monitoring his every move through the Shadowlords.”
“It’ll be all right,” she told him.
“One sign of trouble and I’ll be there, chere,” he said. “Cree, Sorn, Fallon and I. We’ll be there.”
“Please don’t worry. He’ll take care of me.”
He searched her eyes. She remembered nothing of Coulter’s perfidy. The goddess had seen to that. She trusted Coulter—which was good, he guessed—but Taylor wasn’t sure if he liked that.
“It won’t be forever,” he said. “This Extension. He’ll be assigned another female. I am told She has one in the wings for him.”
“Will you stop worrying?” she asked with an exasperated laugh. “I’ll be just fine.”
“I know.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “I love you, Laci,” he said and was a bit annoyed that his voice broke just a little.
“I love you more,” she returned.
Taylor shook his head. “Not possible.”
One last tight squeeze and he unenthusiastically stepped back, lifted her from the table, and adjusted his clothes and hers. With hesitancy, he went to the door and opened it. He didn’t want to allow her out of the room. He wanted to lock her in and keep her all to himself.
“Tater, I’ve got to go,” she said for he was blocking her exit.
He drew in a long breath then turned. “Yeah,” he said.
She glanced at the watch he had given her for Christmas the year before he was taken from her. “Like now, Tay.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just be careful, chere,” he told her.
“I will.”
She kissed him and then eased past. He reached out his hand—wanting to keep her with him—then dropped it. She had a job to do for her country, a calling, and despite his worries and jealousy, he had to let her go. Before she turned the corner, she looked back and blew him another kiss, her beautiful mouth stretched into a wide grin.
* * * * *
Coulter adjusted the backpack he’d slung over his shoulder then boarded the monorail. He could hear the incoming helo and wondered if Laci was already up on the pad where she’d told him she would meet him. He was running late by ten minutes or so. Her and Taylor’s lovemaking—which he had felt to the marrow of his bones—had all but crippled him. It had driven him to his knees as tears filled his eyes.
Tears he refused to shed.
When the monorail stopped, there were several agents and Exchange employees waiting to board. As soon as they saw him, they stepped back. It wasn’t out of respect because he was a Reaper, their Alpha. There was fear and dislike in the eyes they hastily shifted away from him. He exited the car feeling lower than a worm’s belly. Apparently what he had done had spread through the Exchange like wildfire.
“Bastard,” he heard someone say.
They loved Taylor Reynaud and—no pun intended—by extension, Laci Albright. He had violated her and they were holding him accountable. As he walked to the elevator that led to the roof, he could feel their eyes on him and deliberately shut out the whisperings that dogged his every footstep.
The goddess was making him pay in ways he hadn’t considered.
He punched the button on the wall and the elevator doors shushed open. The fluorescent light panels in the top of the cage seemed brighter than they should have, he thought, then realized it was the moisture hovering behind his eyes that was making it so. Shaking his head, he looked down at the carpet beneath his feet as the doors closed.
There were four men standing beyond the elevator doors when they opened. Four hard glares, four tight jaws, four tense bodies all faced him. He rolled his shoulders, expecting trouble.
He stepped out of the elevator then halted.
“We’ll be watching you,” Cree said.
“You better keep her safe,” Sorn commanded.
“If you don’t we’ll fuck up your day,” Fallon said with a menacing smirk.
“Your fucking year,” Sorn amended.
“Your fucking life,” Cree stated.
Reynaud stepped directly in front of him. “Anything happens to my woman, I won’t fuck you up. I’ll fucking kill you.”
Coulter nodded without speaking.
Reynau
d stared at him another second or two then stepped away, turning his back on him.
“I’d give my life for her, Reynaud,” he said quietly.
“You hurt her and you will,” came the reply.
The four left him standing there staring after them as they got into the elevator. As the doors closed, Fallon saluted him with a stiff finger.
“Have a fucked-up day, asswipe,” the former Alpha told him.
Sighing deeply, Coulter went to the door to the roof and pushed it open. The moment he saw the three men standing at the helicopter, he mentally groaned. Inside the chopper he could see Laci already buckled in, waiting for him, but he had another gantlet of concerned and suspicious men to make it through before he could join her.
“Albright has the mission packet,” the Supervisor of the Exchange said when he reached the trio. “There are four keepers traveling with you.”
“As well as the Mage,” the Supervisor of Tearmann added.
“Leave him alone and let him do his thing,” Neal Hesar commanded. “He will summon the demon to aid you when the time is right.”
“Anything else I need to know?” Coulter asked. “Any threats you wish to make before I board?”
Constantine Hesar’s left eyebrow rose. “We don’t make threats, Coulter.”
“We make promises,” the Ridge Lord Alexandru stated.
“And we keep them,” the human Hesar brother added.
They left him standing there looking at a smiling Laci through the opened door of the helo. She lifted her right arm and tapped the face of her watch with her left index finger.
He smiled. Her beautiful face, the gentle look in her blue eyes made him ache. He stepped forward, grabbed the edge of the door and pulled himself inside the chopper. Even before he sat down, he felt the weight of the Mage’s eyes locked on him. He turned, nodded to the man—who did not return the greeting—then took his seat. He glanced at the keeper who was about to pull the door shut and saw Them standing side by side, staring at him.
“Really?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” Laci asked.
He shook his head. He doubted anyone—save perhaps the Mage—had noticed the goddesses’ presence. They had most likely come to reinforce Their censure of him.
“Watch yourself, Gravelord,” the Triune sent to him.
“For We will be watching you,” Bastet amended.
“Lucky me,” he mumbled.
“Talking to yourself is the first sign of senility, Dixon,” Laci said and he looked up at her. She winked and he smiled at her audacious look.
“So they keep telling me but my short-term memory is going too,” he returned.
She grinned and his heart did a funny little flip. She was happy—ecstatically so—and it showed. Things were right inside her world.
“Here’s the packet,” she said, handing it over. “Those people are a real piece of work.”
“Scum of the earth,” the Mage said, his piercing blue eyes leveled on Coulter.
“Do we know which demon they’ve been using in their rituals?” Coulter asked but the Mage didn’t answer.
“We think Apollyon,” Laci responded. “Page two.”
Coulter flipped the stapled top page over. “Head of the Sixth House of Hell, Apollyon is known as the Destroyer,” Coulter read. “King of an army of locusts.”
“Apt description of the pests from the Neear Freewill Church,” the Mage mumbled without looking around.
“Interesting,” Coulter said.
“What?” Laci asked.
“It says here he is the Ruler of the Abyss and that his followers believe he will be returned to Earth to reign over Jerusalem in the final days,” he replied.
“The Supervisor believes the NFC is simply another hatchling of Raphian’s,” Laci said. “Just one more head of the hydra that is doing all it can to disrupt human morale and cause internal strife here in the States.”
“By disrupting the funerals of its fallen heroes and victims of natural disasters,” Coulter said.
“Such mischief polarizes the differing factions,” the Mage commented. “Those who are vehemently opposed to the U.S. being in any way helpful to other nations have found spokesmen for their misguided protestations.”
“And those who believe natural disasters are the punishment of God, see the protests at the funerals of the storm victims as justice and vengeance,” Laci said. “What a crock of shit that is.”
“To desecrate the funeral of any being is a sacrilege in and of itself,” the Mage said. “Such behavior deserves punishment.”
“And will receive it,” Coulter said. “A lot of good men died to give hate groups like the NFC the constitutional right to voice their venom and show their contempt. The worthless pricks and prickettes and their indoctrinated offspring need to be taught a lesson in true vengeance.”
“May I ask which demon you will summon, Master?” Laci asked the Mage.
“I have yet to make my final choice but I am leaning toward Byleth,” he answered.
Laci frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him.”
The Mage smiled. He was a handsome, darkly tanned and muscular man but his smile was ugly, savage. His blue eyes turned as black as pitch.
“He is a mighty and terrible king of Hell, who has eighty-five legions of demons under his command. More than enough demons to scare the shit out of the NFC and their nasty little brats over the age of sixteen. Those under that age will simply have their minds wiped clear of the teachings of their so-called church.”
“Why this particular demon?” Laci queried.
“He has a very fierce, brutal appearance that is more frightening than any pus-riddled hell-scare and is considered to have the worst temper of any demon down there.” He snorted. “The thing with Byleth is he is an aficionado of music—primarily hard rock. The louder, the better. KISS is his favorite band.”
“Wonder why?” Coulter asked with a chuckle.
“And the NFC loathes anything rock and roll,” Laci said. “Good choice, Master.”
“Satan’s music played at eardrum-shattering decibels,” the Mage said. “With the visions I will ask Byleth to send to our targets accompanied by some particularly loud, shrill guitar riffs, A over high C organ tones, and thundering drums?” He shrugged. “Insanity will ensue.”
“Couldn’t happen to a more deserving bunch,” Coulter commented.
“You reap what you sow,” the Mage said, looking straight at Coulter.
“Yeah,” Coulter said. “That you do.”
Chapter Sixteen
The shrieking would have been comical had it not been so unnerving. All around her the arrogant, self-righteous, litigious denizens of the Neear Freewill Church outside Portland, Oregon were fleeing from what only they could see. Though she felt the flight of beings around her—their passing creating a hot wind that blew against her cheeks—the Mage hid their hideous visages from her.
Women were tearing at their hair. Men were beating their bodies against the door of the meeting house in an effort to flee the circling, spinning, howling demons that were lashing at them.
“Vengeance is Mine sayeth the Lord!” a loud, booming voice bellowed above the melee.
Scoring the shrieks of the humans and the howls of the demons was a constant blaring music that set the teeth on edge. The air was filled with the stench of sulfur and was superheated so both Laci and Coulter were sweating bullets.
Not so the Mage. He stood in the center of the storm with his arms folded, his blue eyes once again stygian and the tight smile on his face was victorious.
“I am the Lord thy God. Thy shalt have no other gods before Me!”
A terrible banging began on the walls and roof and the floor beneath her feet swelled, pitching her against Coulter.
“Funhouse time,” he yelled above the din.
“Whoever says he is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness.”
“Good one,” Laci said. She looked to the
Mage but it was not he who was speaking.
“Whoever hates disguises himself with his lips and harbors deceit in his heart; when he speaks graciously, believe him not, for there are seven abominations in his heart; though his hatred be covered with deception, his wickedness will be exposed in the assembly.”
“Oh, now, I like that one,” Coulter said.
And the biblical verses kept coming—bombarding the hate group with the words of a vengeful, punishing entity.
Soon the protestors, the muckrakers, the willing disciples of Apollyon were huddled in one corner jabbering to themselves while their younger children sat in an opposite corner oblivious to the ruckus surrounding them, immune from the revenge, and wiped clean of the wickedness that had been fostered upon them by their parents.
“I think our work here is done,” Coulter said. “Let the news media deal with these fools.” He draped a comradely arm around her. “Now, let’s go see about that group in Kentucky.”
* * * * *
Tired and with a headache from hell throbbing against her temples, Laci stretched out on her bed in the Motel 6 and closed her eyes. She hated rock music and the loud, monotonous skirling of the electric guitars had come close to making her eyes and ears bleed. The ringing of her cellphone made her cringe and she fumbled with it on the nightstand.
“Hello?”
“How’d it go?” Taylor asked.
“As planned,” she told him, rubbing at her forehead. “The media had a field day as the men in the white coats brought the NFC bigwigs out of the meeting hall. All that babbling and foaming at the mouth made for some great footage. The entire movement lost a lot of ground I hope now that the NFC is a laughingstock all over the world.”
“So I heard,” he said. “A lot of it has gone viral on YouTube.”
“Makes them all look like the laughingstocks they are,” she said. “But they are a scary bunch, Tater. Some of the rhetoric we heard before the Mage set the demons loose on them made my blood run cold.”
“You guys in Kentucky now?”
“Yeah, we landed an hour ago,” she said then yawned. “Gonna go after the mother group first thing tomorrow and hopefully shut the whole operation down once and for all.”
A Reaper's Love (WindWorld) Page 20
