He thought about how best to approach his research. “Yeah. Give me anything referencing Larson, first name Victoria. Give me her background files if there are any. Parents, birth certificate, whatever. Even if it’s not necessarily directly related to her.”
“Sure, sugar. Here it comes.”
It was little enough. Victoria Larson had been Victoria Prendergast prior to her marriage, which occurred when she was twenty-seven. Albert Larson, the lucky groom, had been five years younger, but apparently the match was deemed quite acceptable. Albert possessed a tidy fortune which was enlarged by the addition of money from the Prendergast vaults. There were a few photos of the wedding in the file. Both bride and groom had looked suitably enthusiastic.
“Marilyn…keep searching back from here. Give me Victoria Prendergast’s info.” He tapped his fingertips on his desk. Something about the name Prendergast was tickling at his subconscious.
“Here you go, sweetheart. Anything you want, you know I can provide.”
Focused on his research, he managed to ignore the sexual overtones of that statement. And there it was. Prendergast Industries.
The Svengali Project.
Shit. Cheney’s brain made the connections, but came up short. The Svengali Project had been a massive stain on humanity and the top men had been quietly taken out and executed.
He knew he’d have willingly pulled the switch himself, and he still had the occasional nightmare filled with memories of what he and Buck had seen in those classified files. Fortunately, AGs were now mainstream and no longer a source of experimental fodder for twisted geniuses who viewed them as nothing more than disposable lab rats.
Apparently some of the major offenders had alleged ties to Prendergast’s multibillion dollar research facilities. Close enough ties that the lab itself had been cited and prosecuted as an accessory to the fact. And paid a hefty fine by the looks of it, even though he couldn’t find a notation of any Prendergast employees actually doing time for the crime.
But…
That creature he and Buck had destroyed—with Lian’s help. It was marked case closed, but both detectives knew there was unfinished business. They’d discussed the similarities to a Svengali-like manipulator but never found any proof. Could it be linked to Pandora’s strange pup? Was it another facet of whatever or whoever was doing something weird with AGs and their DNA?
It was a damn long stretch, making that association. He leaned back in his chair and ran his hands tiredly over his face. Too many unanswered questions, and yet too much that was unexplained to be ignored. He enjoyed puzzles—part of the reason he liked his job. But this one had struck close to home. Home, in this case, being represented by Pandora, a woman who’d walked into his life such a short time ago, yet had overwhelmed his common sense and, possibly, taken over something more than his guestroom.
He rotated his shoulders and let his mind wander a bit. He understood her, more than she could know. He’d never really come to terms with his own talent. Sure, it was fun. A neat party trick and a wow with women. But other than that, what the hell use was it?
Vampires had enhanced senses and loved the night. There were so many places where their skills were invaluable.
Buck was a cognitive. He could sense emotions, pick up details left hanging in the air of a crime scene and Lian was—well, Cheney wasn’t quite sure exactly what she was, but apparently it was something that Buck appreciated. Fae flittered a lot, but they were extraordinarily good at picking up on minute details that others might have missed.
Werewolves were solid citizens, community-oriented, family-oriented, dependable and always there when you needed them. They tended to be found heading up committees, charities and running for office now and again.
Every variety of AG, it seemed to Cheney, was settling into a place where their talents and skills were most useful. Except him.
And Pandora.
He sighed. What a freakin’ pair of crazies. A tree fairy and an illusionist. At least she’d gone her own road and become a successful lawyer. And he’d become a cop because he loved the work. Their human lives hadn’t been wasted. But he could certainly understand her need to bury her AG abilities. Because he’d done pretty much the same thing.
She’d nailed him on that and she was absolutely right.
But there was one thing that popped back into his mind like a flash of lightning. They’d shared a dream.
And as he turned that memory over and examined it, he heard her crying.
Chapter Twelve
The tears came fast and harsh, great sobs choking from Pandora’s throat as she huddled herself beneath the quilt in Cheney’s guestroom.
She’d slept a little, but her subconscious mind had yet to deal with the fire and the loss she’d taken today. It was a hard hit, she knew. Just how hard came as a shock, as did the savage emotion bubbling up from someplace deep inside and turning her into a whimpering idiot.
Smart enough to know it was the best way to deal with the whole thing, she didn’t try to hold back, letting the crying jag come in full force. Part of her knew it would be cleansing even as another part of her desperately wanted to stifle such a wantonly weak display. She—who had kept a tight rein on anything approaching this kind of outburst—was having a problem dealing with it.
Thank God she was alone and spared the embarrassment of having anyone else watch as she fell apart.
A sound in the room told her even that solace was to be denied her.
“Aww, sweetheart. Come here.”
Without waiting for her to respond, Cheney was there, pulling her against his bare chest. She vaguely realized he’d changed into a pair of loose pajama pants, but then all she knew was the comfort of being held and gentled, his hands stroking her hair away from her face and soothing her tensed shoulders.
“This is so stupid.” She muttered the words against his warmth.
“It’s natural. Let it out.” He passed her another handful of tissues.
“I freakin’ hate this.” Hiccupping, she blew her nose. “It’s really idiotic.”
“Cut yourself some slack. It’s been a helluva day.”
“This is not me. I do not fall apart and weep like some weak twit who hasn’t got enough strength in her spine to stand upright.”
His chest rose and fell with his chuckle. “You’re not at the office now. You’re not in court now. And I’m starting to think you’ve spent so much time telling yourself who you’re not, you’ve lost touch with who you are.”
“Gee, thanks. What are you, my psychiatrist now?” Pandora winced. “Sorry. That was rude and I apologize. You’ve done so much for me I shouldn’t be snapping at you.”
He reached down and put a finger beneath her chin, turning her head upward to face him. His gaze crashed into hers and his eyes heated with something she couldn’t quite put a name to. “We’re past the apologizing stage, Pandora. Way past.” He brushed his thumb over her lips. “We shared a dream, remember? That puts us into a unique category.”
She swallowed awkwardly. “I remember.”
“Come with me. Let’s go there. Now.”
The warmth of his skin was a comforting seduction, his touch kindling her slowly blooming desire. He smelled of man and something faintly spicy, and without thinking about the consequences of her actions, Pandora leaned toward him, closing the distance between them.
“Okay.” There was only one thing she wanted to do at that moment. One thing that would ease her pain, take her away from the chaos that threatened to drown her. One thing she wanted to touch, to savor.
And it was inches away from her face.
She lifted her lips to his, feeling his body grow taut as he slipped both arms around her and pulled her to the hard planes of his chest. He kissed her back, gently, a mere brush of his mouth. Her breasts ached as he crushed them, her nipples responding to the firm pressure and the slight abrasion as he tumbled her down to lie next to him on the bed.
And then…and then…ther
e was no more bed, just soft moss cushioning her as Cheney slid his hands around and over her naked body.
She looked around, awed by the moonlight that had replaced the low light from her bedside lamp. There were thickly leafed trees moving to and fro in a delicate breeze—stars above peeking down on the tiny glade he’d created for them.
Choking a gasp, she realized they lay in the same place she’d seen in the dream, skin to skin, body to body. “You’re doing this.”
“A gift. Something to enjoy. A little escape. God knows we both need it.” He kissed her again, a touch of his lips, still restrained. Until her own moved beneath his and his body shuddered as he released his passion and began to devour her.
His tongue licked along the seam of her mouth and she willingly opened for him, letting it inside, dueling with it, daringly learning the contours of his mouth even as he learned hers.
He held her tightly against him, and without breaking the kiss he rolled, pulling her astride his body. She lay on him, mouth to mouth, breast to chest, aware of his erection hardening between them.
It felt right, liberating, and oh so arousing. The air swept between her thighs as her knees slid to either side of his hips, and she dimly realized she was growing damp, her own desire beginning to prepare her body for what it sensed was to come.
His hands found her shoulders and pushed, separating their lips and urging her upward to sit on him. “Let go, Pandora. You’re safe here with me. Be the part of you that wants to be free right now. It’s all an illusion and just the two of us. I know who you are—it’s time for you to find out as well.”
His hands cupped her breasts, toying with the peaked nipples, teasing them and sending bolts of tingling electricity down through her body to her pussy. She ached, both between her legs and up her spine—her branched wings were forcing their way out of her back.
“I can feel my wings…” She tensed.
“They’re beautiful. Let them out. I want to see you in just those wings and your skin. Your incredible skin…”
His hands wandered over her, finding sensitive places, stroking them and then moving on to another place that caught his fancy. And all the while her wings grew, opening a part of her that had been shuttered for so very long.
When his fingers dipped to her mound and began to toy with her moist folds, she gasped.
“Don’t hold back.” He gazed at her body. “This is for you. Stop trying to prevent this, Pandora. Accept it. Enjoy it.”
Since his thumb had found her clitoris at that precise moment she was pretty much helpless to do anything else but enjoy it. Her head fell back and her hair flew wildly around, sliding over her wings in a movement that was a sensual caress all by itself.
The trees shushed softly and she waited for her toes to lengthen. But strangely, that didn’t happen. Perhaps it was because Cheney continued to tease her pussy and encourage her with murmured words she could barely hear.
Perhaps it was because she’d found herself drifting in the delight of his touch, or the fact that she was now caressing her own breasts, pinching the nipples slightly, augmenting every single thing he was doing to her.
And when his hands gripped her buttocks and tugged her toward his mouth, she forgot she even had toes.
When his tongue began to play within her swollen folds, Pandora forgot every single thing up to and including her own name.
She simply let go.
With slow strokes, he brought her to the edge, kept her trembling there until she dug her fingernails into his shoulders and sobbed, this time with need not sadness. “God, oh God…”
“I know.” He mumbled the words, giving her a second to catch her breath. “There’s more.”
And back he went, nuzzling her, thrusting his tongue deeply, squeezing and pulling a little on her buttocks, adding a frisson of wild pleasure to the madness possessing her.
She shuddered, her wings shook in the night air, and she tumbled loosely into a void, spinning with the waves of orgasm sweeping her toward the crest. Her head lolled limply, her body began to spasm and for a few seconds a strangely wonderful energy flooded through her, an indescribable sensation of fulfillment that was partly due to Cheney and his mouth and partly from something else.
Closing her eyes, she rode it out, as a small whimper escaped her lips.
Before the last tiny ripple had ceased, he moved. Sitting up, he slid her down to rest between his open legs, her thighs clasping his hips, her ankles behind him. His cock thrust against her softness and she blinked as he settled her.
“Put me inside you, Pandora. Trust me. Take me, all of me. I need this as much as you do.”
In this position, her wings were free to move—and so was she. Tentatively she reached between them and positioned the swollen head at the entrance to her body. Then watched as he inched inward.
He was watching too, and that knowledge—the sheer erotic pleasure of sharing this moment—blew her mind to smithereens.
Cheney was having a hard time holding the illusion together. His body was screaming loud and clear with a frantic urge to bury himself to the hilt inside Pandora. Stunned by the ferocity of his need, he struggled to maintain the simplest of surroundings—something which had never happened to him before.
He’d created scenarios for lovemaking many times and in many different ways, all of which had held up nicely until both parties were limp and sated.
This? This was so completely different, so overwhelming, he was damn near beside himself as he fought to hold everything together in that particular part of his brain while the rest of his focus fled south and landed squarely in his cock.
Which even then was slipping slowly into Pandora.
A groan escaped him as she welcomed him into the fiery heat of her body, a slick progress both of them watched. He wasn’t sure either of them were breathing—he certainly wasn’t, unwilling to break the magic with anything as mundane as a gasp for air.
The sound of the trees around them was the only noise—a warm susurration of leaves and branches shedding tiny rays of green light in an aura around Pandora. He didn’t know if she felt it—if she was aware that she drew something unique from them.
Like him, she seemed oblivious to everything except their joining. And when it was complete, when their bodies met and Cheney was all the way inside her—well, there was no need for words.
Their heads rose in tandem, their gazes met and he wouldn’t have been surprised if a chorus of angels had burst into song. It was that good.
Experimentally, he began to move, a slight shift of his hips. Within the blink of an eye she picked up the rhythm of it, aligning herself to meet his thrusts and withdrawing as he slid backward only to return again, pulling him deeply with her still trembling inner muscles.
Her sheath was slippery, coated with hot juices, snug and—he thought fancifully—designed specifically for him. Rocking this way he could watch her face, see her expressions as her arousal grew once more.
He knew when she began to rise again, not only by the tiny quivers of her body, but by the hushed gasps of her breath. He held her close, loving how her nipples brushed his chest, enjoying the sensation every bit as much as she did.
His hands stroked her spine, toyed with her hair and gently caressed the base of her wings, something she responded to with sighs of pleasure.
As the pace of their loving increased, Cheney noticed a faint aura shimmering around her. Tiny rays of light, twinkling green and silver, began to encompass her as she drifted into a sensual haze, her body as intent as his on reaching the ultimate goal.
He realized she was taking something—or being given something—from the trees he’d created for their illusion. Spider-web strands of energy were flowing into Pandora’s body, and as they did so, her wings softened and shrank.
He couldn’t tell if she was aware of what was happening, since her eyes were dark and vague as she tumbled into the sexual storm. She was doing what he’d told her to—letting go of everything t
hat had held this side of her back for too long.
All these thoughts scrambled for a foothold in his brain, but he didn’t have the time or the energy to examine them closely. What they were doing—the way their bodies meshed, separated then joined again—it was just too much for him to deal with.
And when Pandora began to choke back sobs, when her body started to clench at his cock, to ripple around him in ever-quickening spasms—he lost it.
The illusion winked out and they were back on her bed, naked and locked in the onrush of orgasm.
Without a second thought, Cheney pushed her down onto her back and thrust hard, pounding his body deeply into her, vaguely aware that her legs had clasped him, her ankles locked behind him as she pulled him even farther inside.
It was fierce, wonderful and blindingly overwhelming.
And it was way beyond anything he could ever have imagined or created in an illusion. This was real and he could do nothing but surrender to it. The magic he’d used vanished in an instant, leaving him mortal, tingling with a burst of electric sparks creeping around the base of his spine, balls that were tight and hard as they slapped against Pandora’s softness and a need to orgasm that had his back teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurt.
As the woman beneath him began to come, to tense and shiver and grip his cock with urgent spasms, he let go, ramming into her and letting all that he was pour freely from his cock in an eruption of sensation that had his breath stopping in his lungs.
It seemed like eons before they expanded again, and during those incredible moments when his world flashed white and silver and turned upside down, Cheney felt her with him, felt the energy vibrating between them, sensed so much more than just her body. For those seconds, he became part of her even as she became part of him.
This simple act of mating, of loving, of joining in the most basic way, had united more than their bodies. The door in his mind opened to her, offering her his illusions. He felt her enter as he slid into a place where nature spoke in a language he suddenly knew. Where the forests talked to each other and he could listen, drawing knowledge and comfort from their soft whispers.
Demons are a Ghoul's Best Friend: Afterglow, Book 2 Page 12
