With Extreme Pleasure

by Alison Kent

  “Yes, yes.” Her head was back to bobbing, her giggles rising on infectious bubbles that burst all over his skin. “I love you. I love you. And my first adventure? Crawfish. I have never eaten crawfish. I want pounds and pounds of crawfish.”

  Lord, but this woman tickled him. This woman who loved him, this woman whose appetite and laughter he would never get his fill of. It was hard to tease her, his chest was so tight, but he gave it a go.

  “I’ll have word put out to Texas and Mississippi that we’re on our way. I’ve seen you eat, and I don’t think Louisiana grows that many mudbugs.”

  “Mudbugs? What the hell is a mudbug?” she squawked as she scrambled back into her seat.

  King hit the button and revved the engine once it turned over, laughing as he put the car into gear. “Oh, chère. You are so going to love Bayou Allain.”

  Forty-four

  They were cruising through Tennessee three days later, taking their time between Pennsylvania and the Pelican State, when Cady turned on the radio.

  Authorities have arrested seven members of an organized gang accused of distributing drugs in the tristate region, and allegedly supplying inmates in the New Jersey State Prison. The gang’s leader, Nathan Tuzzi of Elizabeth, New Jersey, is currently serving a life sentence for the murder of Freehold Township college student, Kevin Kowalski, eight years ago.

  One of those arrested, Jason Malling, was paroled earlier this month after serving seven years for his role in the same crime. This makes Malling’s third arrest as he was most recently detained and charged with trespassing on property owned by the Kowalski family in Northampton County, Pennsylvania.

  King reached over and turned it off. “I’m not in much of a mood for the news. What about you?”

  Eyes closed, Cady leaned back and lifted her face to the warm spring sun. “I’m not in much of a mood for anything that takes me away from being here.”

  “Sorry, chère,” he told her. “Every mile we go is taking you away from being here.”

  “Literally, yes. But I was speaking metaphorically. I don’t have a care in the world and, if it’s okay with your majesty, I’d like to keep it that way.”

  To that, he had only one thing to say. “Damn, but it’s good to be King.”

  Epilogue

  Authorities have arrested seven members of an organized gang accused of distributing drugs in the tristate region…

  The private jet reached its cruising altitude and leveled off for the early transatlantic flight, and the single passenger on board flipped off the television broadcast he’d recorded the day before.

  The sun was cresting the horizon with the promise of a bright new day—a new day the man making the trip planned to sleep through. Tomorrow would be soon enough for Fitzwilliam McKie to celebrate all the days to come.

  Nearly a year ago to the day, he had buried Oliver, his young brother-in-law who’d been serving time for possession of and intent to distribute heroin, and had been killed on Tuzzi’s orders after cooperating with the state.

  Weeks later, Fitz had buried Elise, his young bride of less than two years, whose grief had been inconsolable, and who had taken her own life at the news of her brother’s violent death.

  And now that he had buried everything that mattered to Nathan Tuzzi, taken apart his operation and reduced his organization to ash, Fitz was done.

  He’d lost track of Cady Kowalski and Kingdom Trahan both. He could find them…but he had no need. They’d served their purpose in a larger way than he’d ever expected. They deserved to get back to living their own lives—just as he would be getting back to living his.

  In fact, as he stripped down to his skivvies as he’d promised to do, tucked a pillow between his head and the window, and finally closed his eyes, he swore he heard Dublin calling his name.

  The sound may have been nothing but the echo of his longing, but it sang with a truth that had been clawing at him for a very long time.

  It was time for Fitzwilliam McKie to go home.

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  “Lyraka is different.”

  Roan crossed his legs. “I’ve heard that crap before.”

  “She’s not full-blooded Nerakian. Her father is an earthling.”

  He raised an eyebrow. Okay, Joe had his attention. “I didn’t know there were any half-breeds old enough to train, but it makes sense they would mate. The ones I’ve run across make no bones that they like a good roll in the hay.”

  “Now you’re being crude,” Joe admonished.

  “Just stating facts. Chocolate and sex are the only things they seem to care about.”

  “That’s not true and you know it.”

  Yeah, he did, but he’d been in a particularly foul mood since Joe told Roan that he wanted him to stay at the training center a little longer. Now Joe was giving him this new assignment. Roan wanted to get back into field work and out of training. He was starting to feel trapped, and that didn’t set well with him.

  A leg injury he’d sustained a few months ago had kept him on the sidelines. The doc still wouldn’t release him for full duty even though Roan felt fine. He had a feeling Joe was behind some of it.

  “Train her, and I’ll get you the release you’ve been wanting,” Joe said.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “She must mean a lot to you. Is she that good?”

  “You can’t imagine.” Joe handed Roan a manila envelope. “This is everything I have on her. I know it’s not much, but read it tonight.”

  Roan was still skeptical, but believed Joe when he said he would get him the release. Hell, he’d do just about anything to get back to active duty. He believed there was more to training this chick, though. “What’s the catch? There has to be something wrong with her.”

  Joe shrugged, a little too casually, if you asked Roan.

  “Like I said, her abilities are different, stronger than the average Nerakian, but she needs to learn discipline and control.”

  She was half Nerakian and half earthling, how strong could she be? He assumed she was a warrior so he wouldn’t have to actually do that much. A few weeks of his time and he’d be back getting his hands dirty. He could handle that.

  “Okay, it’s a deal. When do I get to meet her?” He’d known Joe for quite a few years. At one time, Joe had been a kick-ass agent, but when the elite force was formed, Joe had taken over recruiting people who had the potential to be the best of the best. Roan knew it took a lot to impress Joe. So yeah, he was curious.

  Joe beamed. “You get to meet her right now.” He pushed a button on his intercom. “Go get Lyraka and ask her to come in.”

  A few minutes passed before the door opened. Roan didn’t move from his chair. Nerakian women were beautiful, but it hadn’t taken him long to realize they had strange ideas about things.

  And they took everything literally. He didn’t have that much patience when it came to explaining every little detail. Women from Earth were more to his liking. They knew the score. He slowly turned in his chair, expecting to see a beautiful woman.

  There were very few times in his life he’d ever felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. This just happened to be one of them. She didn’t look like most Nerakians. Warriors were darker—dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes. Healers had long blond hair and usually wore green flowing robes, and man, were they a pain in the ass. He’d only met one, but that one had been more than enough. Each Nerakian had a different look that immediately said what their role on Nerak had been.

  But this woman was different. God, was she different. His heart had already begun to pound, and the palms of his hands to sweat just looking at her. She was a walking, talking billboard of every man’s sexual fantasy—him included.

  How the hell was he going to train her?

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  Whatever the Seer wanted, the Seer got, be it for his comfort or his whim or his pleasure.

  She stood staring at the chair on the raised dais at one end of the chamber, the chair where he sat when the visions came. From the expression that filled her green eyes, she knew it as well.

  Had she witnessed his power? Had she watched as the magic within him exploded into a vision of what was or what would yet be? As he influenced the high and the mighty of the surrounding lands and clans with the truth of his gift? Walking over to stand behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her back to his body.

  “I have not seen you before, sweetling,” he whispered into her ear. Leaning down, he smoothed the hair from the side of her face with his own and then touched his tongue to the edge of her ear. “What is your name?”

  He felt the shivers travel through her as his mouth tickled her ear. Smiling, he bent down and kissed her neck, tracing the muscle there down to her shoulder with the tip of his tongue. Connor bit the spot gently, teasing it with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. “Your name?” he asked again.

  She arched then, clearly enjoying his touch and ready for more. Her head fell back against his shoulder and he moved his mouth to the soft skin there, kissing and licking his way down and back to her ear. Still she had not spoken.

  “When I call out my pleasure, sweetling, what name will I speak?”

  He released her shoulders and slid his hands down her arms and then over her stomach to hold her in complete contact with him. Covering her stomach and pressing her to him, he rubbed against her back, letting her feel the extent of his erection—hard and large and ready to pleasure her. Connor moved his hands up to take her breasts in his grasp. Rubbing his thumbs over their tips and teasing them to tightness, he no longer asked, he demanded.

  “Tell me your name.”

  He felt her breasts swell in his hands and he tugged now on the distended nipples, enjoying the feel and imagining them in his mouth, as he suckled hard on them and as she screamed out her pleasure. But nothing could have pleased him more in that moment then the way she gasped at each stroke he made, over and over until she moaned out her name to him.

  “Moira.”

  “Moira,” he repeated slowly, drawing her name out until it was a wish in the air around them. “Moira,” he said again as he untied the laces on her bodice and slid it down her shoulders until he could touch her skin. “Moira,” he now moaned as the heat and the scent of her enticed him as much as his own scent was pulling her under his control.

  Connor paused for a moment, releasing her long enough to drag his tunic over his head and then turning her into his embrace. He inhaled sharply as her skin touched his, the heat of it seared into his soul as the tightened peaks of her breasts pressed against his chest. Her added height brought her hips level almost to his and he rubbed his hardened cock against her stomach, letting her feel the extent of his arousal.

  As he pushed her hair back off her shoulders, he realized that in addition to the raging lust in his blood, there was something else there, teasing him with its presence.

  Anticipation.

  For the first time in years, this felt like more than the mindless rutting that happened between him and the countless, nameless women there for his needs. For the first time in too long, this was not simply scratching an itch, for the hint of something more seemed to stand off in the distance, something tantalizing and unknown and something somehow tied to this woman.

  He lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her gaze off the blasted chair and onto his face. Instead of the compliant gaze that usually met him, the clarity of her gold-flecked green eyes startled him. Connor did something he’d not done before, something he never needed to do—he asked her permission.

  “I want you, Moira,” he whispered, dipping to touch and taste her lips for the first time. Connor slid his hand down to gather up her skirts, baring her legs and the treasure between them to his touch and his sight. “Let me?”

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  She reached into her bag and pulled out a check. Not the usual way things were handled in the DA’s office, but…“I’ve been authorized to acquire your services.” He didn’t glance at the check, just kept those blue eyes trained on hers. Her fingers were steady as she held the check in the air between them “This check is for ten thousand dollars.”

  No change of expression. From the looks of his cabin, the guy shouldn’t have been hesitating to snatch up the money.

  “Give the check to Night Watch.”

  At that, her lips firmed. “I already gave them one.” A hefty one, at that. “This one’s for you. A bonus from the mayor—he wants this guy caught, fast.” Before word about the true nature of the crime leaked too far.

  “So old Gus doesn’t think his cops can handle this guy?”

  Gus LaCroix. Hard-talking, ex-hard-drinking mayor. No nonsense, deceptively smart, and demanding. “He’s got the cops on this, but he said he knew you, and that you’d be the best one to handle this job.”

  Erin strongly suspected that Gus belonged in the Other world. She hadn’t caught any scent that was off drifting from him, but his agreement to bring in Night Watch and his almost desperate demands to the DA had sure indicated the guy knew more than he was letting on about the situation.

  Could be he was a demon. Low-level. Many politicians were.

  Jude took the check. Finally. She dropped her fingers, fast, not wanting the flesh on flesh contact with him. Not then.

  He folded the check and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Guess you just got yourself a bounty hunter.”

  “And I guess you’ve got yourself one sick shifter to catch.”

  He closed the distance between them, moving fast and catching her arms in a strong grip.

  Aw, hell. It was just like before. The heat of his touch swept though her, waking hungers she’d deliberately denied for so long.

  Jude was sexual. From his knowing eyes. His curving, kiss-me lips, to the hard lines and muscles of his body.

  Deep inside, in the dark, secret places of her soul that she fought to keep hidden, there was a part of her just like that.

  Wild. Hot.

  Sexual.

  “Why are you afraid of me?”

  Not the question she’d expected, but one she could answer. “I know what you are. What sane woman wouldn’t be afraid of a man who becomes an animal?”

  “Some women like a little bit of the animal in their men.”

  “Not me.” Liar.

  His eyes said the same thing.

  “Do your job, Donovan. Catch the freak who cut up my prisoner—”

  “Like Bobby had been slashing his victims?”

  Hit. Yeah, there’d been no way to miss that significance.

  “When word gets out about what really happened, some folks will say Bobby deserved what he got.” His fingers pressed into her arms. Erin wore a light, silk shirt—and even that seemed too hot for the humid Louisiana spring night. His touch burned through the blouse and seemed to singe her flesh.

  “Some will say that,” she allowed. Okay, a hell of a lot would say that. “But his killer still has to be caught.” Stopped, because she had the feeling this could be just the beginning.

  Her feelings about death weren’t often wrong.

  She was a lot like her dad that way.

  And, unfortunately, like her mother, too.

  “What do you think? Did he deserve to be clawed to death?”

  An image of Bobby’s ex-wife, Pat, flashed before her eyes. The doctors had put over one hundred and fifty stitches into her face. She’d been his most brutal attack.

  Erin swallowed. “His punishment was for the court to decide.” She stepped back, but he didn’t let her go. “Uh, do you mind?”

  “Yeah, I do.” His eyes glittered down at her. “If we�
�re gonna be working together, we need honesty between us.”

  “We need you to find the killer.”

  “Oh, I will. Don’t worry about that. I always catch my prey.”

  So the rumors claimed. The hunters from Night Watch were known throughout the U.S.

  “You’re shivering, Erin.”

  “No, no, I’m not.” She was.

  “I make you nervous. I scare you.” A pause. His gaze dropped to her lips, lingered, then slowly rose back to meet her stare. “Is it because I know what you are?”

  She wanted his mouth on hers. A foolish desire. Ridiculous. Not something the controlled woman wanted, but what the wild thing inside craved. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Don’t I?”

  Erin jerked free of his hold and glared at him. “Few things in this world scare me. You should know that.” There was one thing, one person, who terrified her—but now wasn’t the time for that disclosure. No, she didn’t tell anyone about him.

  If she could just get around Jude and march out of that door—

  “Maybe you’re not scared of me, then. Maybe you’re scared of yourself.”

  She froze.

  “Not human,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Not vamp.”

  Vamp? Thankfully, no.

  “Djinn? Nah, you don’t have that look.” His right hand lifted and he rubbed his chin. “Tell me your secrets, sweetheart, and I’ll tell you mine.”

  “Sorry, not the sharing type.” She’d wasted enough time here. Erin pushed past him, ignoring the press of his arm against her side. Her body ached and the whispers of hunger within her grew more demanding every moment she stayed with him.

  Weak.

  She hated her weakness.

  Just like her mother’s.

  “You’re a shifter.” His words stopped her near the door. She stared blankly at the faded wood. Heard the dull thud of her heart echoing in her ears.