Shadow Flight

by Christine Feehan

  He leaned down and nuzzled the suit jacket out of the way of her neck so he could kiss her pulse there. “You want to see what artwork I come up with on the rooftop, don’t you?”

  “That, and I have to confess, one more shadow and I might jump you before we get to the artwork. This is crazy.”

  He flashed a grin, took her hand and ducked back into the tube that would take them closest to the side parking lot, where the three vehicles had been left unattended. By now, Emidio had to have been told that none of them would start. There were four Demons left out of the fourteen that had come from St. Louis. Emidio had no idea what had happened to his men, and he would want to know.

  The shadow was a long one, but fairly easy to ride. They paused just in the mouth of it, watching the Demons as they consulted together. Whispering. All of them were on their phones attempting to raise those not present. Emidio was furious. He punched the side of the truck, denting it, giving away the fact that he wore brass knuckles on his hand. He was prepared for a battle. He gestured toward the alley and indicated they all go armed together.

  Ricco kissed Mariko and then indicated he would take the taller of the two men. Unfortunately, Emidio was very short. Mariko would have to serve justice on him, and he would be guarded by the other three. He would also be the wariest. Mariko simply nodded and waited for the four men to stalk past them.

  Ricco caught the names of the two tall men. The one wearing a dark green shirt was called Juan, and the other Marcos. The shorter man pacing alongside Emidio was Carlos. Carlos was slim and wiry-looking. Ricco didn’t like the look of him and hoped that Mariko noticed that of all of Emidio’s soldiers, Carlos was the one most dangerous. That, Ricco decided, was the drawback to partnering with his wife. His attention was divided, even knowing she was excellent at her job. She’d trained from the time she was a toddler and excelled at her work, yet he still worried about her.

  What of Nicoletta? She might be an anomaly. She had a fast learning curve, and he’d watched her. All of them had. They’d discussed the fact that she never had to be told something twice, that every week she was faster and deadlier on the training mats. That didn’t take away from the fact that Mariko had years of training on her and Ricco still worried. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for Taviano if Stefano really gave the couple the go-ahead to work together as a pair.

  Mariko fell into step behind Carlos, using the shadowing technique. Ricco couldn’t move on the taller men until they were out of sight of the two others. He stayed in the shadows, watching them, keeping close to them by moving from one shadow to the next, using the darkness when he had to come out in the open. Part of his attention was on Mariko as she stalked Emidio’s bodyguard.

  “Stay close,” Carlos hissed at Emidio when he quickened his pace. Juan and Marcos had a fairly good lead on them, their longer strides putting distance between the men.

  “I don’t want to get separated,” Emidio snapped, but he slowed, taking a firmer grip on his weapon. “Shit, Carlos. Bodies.”

  Marcos and Juan had gotten to Alejo and Don. They went back-to-back and then Juan cautiously crouched down to examine the bodies.

  Emidio halted a distance away when Carlos put a cautionary hand on his arm. “Who is it?” Emidio called out.

  “Alejo and Don,” Marcos answered.

  “Necks are broken,” Juan added, straightening. “They never saw it coming. Alejo was taking a piss.”

  Emidio swore savagely. “You see Cleto anywhere? Did he do this?”

  “A pro did this,” Juan said. “Someone who knew what they were doing.”

  Ricco was surprised that Juan would recognize that. The man kept his cool when the three remaining Demons had to be a little panicked. He could understand why Emidio had kept these men close to him. Cleto was a wild card, probably useful in a fight but constantly a troublemaker. These three men were different, all business, and their business was to protect Emidio.

  Mariko waited, her breath barely moving through her lungs, her energy so low nothing could possibly give her away. There was no warning to Carlos that danger stalked him. He might be the most lethal of the four men in the alley, but a beautiful woman wearing a pinstriped suit signifying she was a Ferraro, a bearer of justice, matched him footstep for footstep. He had one hand on Emidio’s arm, while the other fisted his gun, and he looked around carefully to ensure no one was close that could harm the man he protected.

  Ricco watched, his heart pounding, his mouth dry, as Mariko made her move, uncaring that Carlos stood so close to Emidio. She caught his head from behind, wrenched his neck and whispered, “Justice is served.” Immediately she stepped into a shadow. She had chosen her moment based on the light coming and going from the gaudy neon signs overhead.

  Ricco let his breath out in a long rush. She was beautiful. Magnificent. His body reacted, a rush of heat pumping through his veins, filling his groin with hot blood. She stepped out of the shadow directly behind Emidio as he turned to look at Carlos. Carlos’s hand had slipped from his arm and the body was falling backward toward the rocky asphalt.

  Emidio took a step forward, frowning, unable to believe his own eyes. He hadn’t heard a sound and had no idea why his bodyguard would be falling. As he stepped forward, Mariko timed her moment and caught his head, wrenching hard. The man dropped almost on top of his guard. Mariko uttered the classic words in her soft voice and once more disappeared into the shadows.

  Ricco had only to wait for Marcos and Juan to notice that both men were down. When no orders were given, the two tall men stepped into the light to try to catch a better look at the man they took orders from. When they saw the two bodies lying on the ground, they ran right past Ricco to them. Again, it was Juan who examined them.

  “Same kill method,” Juan said. “We’ve got to get out of here now.”

  “I didn’t hear a sound,” Marcos said.

  “Yeah. Like I said, we’ve got to get out of here.” Juan looked around carefully and then slowly straightened up. He indicated for Marcos to lead the way.

  Marcos didn’t protest, simply taking the lead, using longer strides to make his way toward the other end of the alley. Juan came behind him, watching all sides and occasionally throwing a glance over his shoulder. Ricco used the one shadow that would take him ahead and to the right of the rapidly walking men. Marcos passed him.

  Ricco fell into step behind Juan and without hesitation, caught his head between his hands and wrenched. The crack was loud in the silence of the night. Marcos spun around, his gun coming up, looking for a target, finger on the trigger. Mariko was on him before he could squeeze and get off a shot. She had wrapped him up with her legs and her hands were already in the perfect position. She gave the same wrench, and both of them simultaneously uttered the required line. “Justice is served.”

  The bodies dropped to the ground.

  Ricco stood looking for a long time at his wife. He couldn’t see anything else. Only the perfection that was Mariko. Heat coursed through his body. Flames licked at his skin. Lust and love mixed together until he didn’t know where one started and the other ended, the two emotions so intense and so intertwined. Her eyes shone at him, dark with her own need, watching him the way she did, that focused look that always told him she was all his.

  He caught her hand and tugged her into the shadow leading back up to the roof. The heat was so intense, burning through him as he stepped out of the shadow tube. He didn’t try to control it as he normally would have.

  “Take your clothes off, Mariko.” Even in his heightened state, even commanding her, he used a velvet-soft voice. He watched her through half-closed eyes as he pulled the red silk rope from beneath his jacket and shook it out, beginning to run it through his hands to check for any splinters.

  Dio, but she was beautiful. She wore nothing under her pristine pinstriped suit, and it was off in seconds, carefully folded and set asid
e near the shadow entrance. He slipped a rope around her wrist and bound her hand to the neon sign with the giant café letters. Stretching her arm out, he paced over to the end of the sign, as close as he could get, stretching her other arm, the rope a shackle around that slender wrist. He could easily slip the knots in seconds and break her free, or she could, if necessary, but she looked a prisoner, the huge letters standing tall behind her, going off and on while her naked body appeared small and vulnerable.

  He could barely contain his raging cock as he began to frame her breasts in a harness of red. He worked fast, laying his ropes carefully, checking with her to ensure that no line was uncomfortable, his hands sliding over her soft skin, flicking her nipples, his mouth on the pulse at her neck. He spread her legs while he framed her sex, his thumb circling her clit and flicking it and rubbing. Several times he couldn’t resist pushing his finger deep to coat it and then licking it clean. She tasted so good. Once he dropped to his knees to inspect his knots and he couldn’t resist lapping at her. Once he started, he couldn’t stop until her soft little moans and familiar music drove him insane.

  He was on his feet again, lifting her. “Wrap your legs around me, farfallina mia, I’m not going to be gentle.” He couldn’t be. He was too far gone.

  “I don’t want you to be.”

  She was helpless in the ropes, but she looked so gorgeous, the red silk framing her breasts, emphasizing her feminine form, the ugliness of the sign a counterpoint to the beauty of a woman. Her sex, framed in the red harness, with intricate knots that dripped down her mound, over her hips and down her thighs but pulled tight around her lips and between her cheeks, gleamed with each pulse of the neon sign.

  Ricco drove his cock into her snug, wet heat, wanting to fling back his head and howl as the fire raced up his spine. She was paradise. Sheer paradise. Everything to him. Wild sex on a rooftop and then home, where he could make love to her all night, knowing they had done what they could to keep Nicoletta safe. Yeah. He called that a win.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Nicoletta dressed carefully in the pinstriped suit Taviano handed her. His instructions were very clear. If she wore underwear, it had to be silk. There were a lot of new clothes in the drawers. She hadn’t wanted to touch things that hadn’t belonged to her, but she was Taviano’s wife, and she would be expected to accompany him wherever he went. That meant wearing clothes that cost the Earth.

  She ran her hand down the material of the suit. It felt very different from anything she’d ever worn before. Textures sometimes bothered her, but this felt right on her body. She had opted to wear silk panties beneath it. She hadn’t quite gotten to the point where she was comfortable walking around knowing she didn’t at least have little scraps of underwear protecting her.

  She leaned her chin onto her palm as she paused by the hall mirror. That was the strangest thing of all. She probably was safer being nude. She could disappear into the shadows if she wasn’t wearing clothes. All that time she’d been with her step-uncles, suffering their attacks, had she known she could have escaped by using the shadows, she would have done so. Her means to leave had been right there all along.

  Taviano’s attackers had been men who knew how to use the shadows. They were older and more experienced. She hadn’t known, and he hadn’t been able to leave.

  Taviano came up behind her, close, so close she felt his body heat. He wrapped his arm around her, one hand sliding into the loose lapel of her jacket to cup her breast over the thin lace of the silk bra. His thumb and finger rolled her nipple. Her sex clenched and instantly she went damp and her stomach did that slow hot roll.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I like touching you.” He didn’t remove his hand. He tugged on her nipple through the silk. “Does it bother you?”

  She pushed back into him. She wanted more from him. She wanted to be able to have a normal relationship, not be afraid every time he touched her that if he took it too far, she’d mess everything up by falling apart. Her first reaction was always fear. Her second reaction was an incredibly intense heat flooding her veins and pooling low and sinfully wicked. She laid her head back against his chest.

  “Nicoletta? Does it bother you that I like touching you?”

  “No.” Her voice came out a husky whisper. She barely recognized it. There was no way to suppress the longing, and she didn’t try. “I like that you do. I hope you always want to touch me like this, Taviano.”

  “Next time, tesoro, when Stefano isn’t coming with us, you don’t need to wear a bra or panties. I know you think you need them, but you don’t. I want you to feel freedom. Not necessarily because you’re going without them but from the idea of having to have clothes to protect you. First, you’ve gotten to a point where you can protect yourself. And second, I love your body and I love knowing no one else has a clue but me what’s under that prim and proper little suit. Which, by the way, looks very different on you than it does on me.”

  She had to agree. He looked very handsome. All the Ferraros did. She looked . . . curvy. The jacket tucked in at her waist and flared over her hips. Emmanuelle had worn the men’s cut for a long time and then she’d demanded a female version. The tailor had created a beautiful line, with the lapels fitting tight over her breasts and even tighter through the ribs before flaring out over the hips. The back was longer, a series of draping ruffles that framed her bottom deliciously. It was very feminine, but the material had a lot of stretch in it, allowing the women to move when they needed to work.

  Nicoletta couldn’t look away from the two of them in the mirror. She found the sight of his hand disappearing beneath her jacket lapel very hot. His fingers caressed her breast gently and then became rougher, more possessive, before going back to those hauntingly sweet strokes that drove her out of her mind.

  He buried his face in that little spot between her shoulder and neck that he knew made her particularly squirm when he kissed and bit her there. Her entire body shivered. She wanted to ask him what he was doing. She worried that Stefano could be there any minute. Weren’t they supposed to be heading out to go after the Demons who were going to come into Ferraro territory so no one could get hurt? The Ferraros were so casual about time. They acted like they had all the time in the world. She had no idea if they had to hurry or if they had most of the night to just be on call.

  They’d spent time practicing traveling short distances in the shadows to acclimate her body and give her a chance to learn to ride them on her own, mainly from one part of the house to the other. It was much scarier than she’d thought it would be, even going that distance without holding on to him. He was right behind her, but she couldn’t feel him there. The cold of the shadows and the absolute aloneness terrified her, compounded by the sensation of her skin coming off her bones, but she didn’t get sick. The distance was short enough that she was able to maintain. Once she’d managed a few times to find her way around the house using the shadows, she had far more confidence.

  Nicoletta opened her mouth, thinking she might protest Taviano’s assault on her senses, but once his teeth scraped across her sensitive skin, she lost all ability to think clearly.

  Taviano managed to open the first two buttons of her jacket while his mouth was busy at her neck, so the jacket framed her breasts. The silk bra was barely there, just a network of lace stretching around her generous curves. In the mirror, the marks from his roving fingers showed through the lace, and her nipples stood up temptingly. The bra was a pretty mauve, the color nice against her skin.

  Her face was flushed that soft, delicate rose he loved to see over her entire body. His hands wandered down to the waistband of the trousers. It was easy enough to open them and slide his hand down inside. “I love your skin, piccola. Always so soft. When I held you at night, it was difficult not to rub my body all over yours just to feel how soft you are.”

  He massaged her feminine mound and those soft curls there. Wai
ted a heartbeat. Two. She didn’t protest. She didn’t stop him. He tugged on the curls, watching her face in the mirror. Her breathing turned ragged. He let his fingers slide farther down, found her lips and rubbed and tugged. Her gaze jumped to his.

  “Do you like that?” He whispered the question into her ear, his breath warm, his seduction blatant. “Does it feel good?”

  She had to know he found her a desirable woman. He wanted her to know he loved her and loving her meant wanting her body as well as her heart. He stroked a finger over her clit and then her entrance. Tugged again on her lips. Gently. So gently but firmly, letting her know he could use every part of her to make her feel pleasure. The more she trusted him, the more pleasure he could give her.

  Her gaze clung to his in the mirror. “Yes.”

  His finger slid into her. He felt the bite of her channel. She was tight. Achingly so. He bit down again on that sweet spot that had her squirming. “Keep looking at me, Nicoletta. I want you to pull your bra off your breasts, so it pushes them up.”

  He began to fuck her slowly with his finger, his eyes on hers in the mirror, his mouth on her shoulder. She looked so sexy with his hand in her trousers, working her body. Her hips began to subtly move, gliding with him. That was even sexier. Her hands came up to her bra and she dragged it down beneath the two rounded globes, pushing them up. Her nipples were even tighter. They looked so damned tempting he could barely contain himself.

  “Can you roll and pinch your nipples for me?” He used one hand to show her and then pulled his hand free so he could lick off the coating of honey. He showed her his gleaming finger. “You taste so good, tesoro.”

  He held his finger to her mouth and waited for her to open. Pushing inside he watched in the mirror while she sucked. The sight made him so hard he found he was growing painful. “You’re so sexy. I love that you do whatever I ask of you.” His hand was back, sliding inside her trousers. He flicked her clit, strummed it and then flicked it again and again. “Keep rolling and tugging, Nicoletta. I love to watch.”