Wings of the Raven

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  “Perfect,” he said with a sigh. “You look like Chinese porcelain, so creamy and delicate. But I’ve seen you take down an armed thug with nothing but a baton. And these…” He brought his hands down to cup my breasts, though they barely filled his palms. “Dainty and sweet. And all crinkled up, just for me.”

  He rasped my pebbled nipples with his thumbs, drawing a moan from the back of my throat.

  “You like that, don’t you?” He moved sideways to sit on the bed, pulling me between his thighs. Once he had me where he wanted me, he lowered his head to take my nipple in his mouth.

  “Will,” I cried, leaning into him. I clutched at his shoulders to keep my balance as my knees threatened to give out.

  One of his hands was on my ass, kneading the muscle, while with the other, he massaged the breast he wasn’t suckling. My core ached, and I tilted my hips, trying to rub my mound against him. His cock jutted into my stomach, as hard as a tree limb.

  Slowly, he slipped his hand down between my buttocks and under the drenched string of my thong. He inched his fingers forward, until they parted the swollen lips of my pussy and found my warm, wet entrance.

  I bucked against his hand, desperate to feel him—any part of him—inside my aching channel. Instead, he rubbed his fingers along my folds, teasing me further.

  “You’re so fucking responsive,” he said as he switched hands, bringing the one wet with my juices up to his mouth and sucking my cream off his fingers, while he slid the other one between my folds. “I want to see you come for me, Carys.” He lowered his mouth to my other breast and suckled hard.

  This time, he moved his hand farther forward, pressing on my clit with his fingers and tucking his thumb up into my slit. He was relentless, driving me higher and higher with just the right speed and pressure. When I was almost at the peak, he used his teeth on my nipple and flicked my clit hard with his finger. I fell over the edge, wailing his name as sparks of pleasure cascaded through my body, radiating from my womb out to my fingers and toes.

  He stroked me slowly while I came down. I slumped in his arms, my head falling forward onto his shoulder. Moving carefully, he lifted me in one arm and pulled the bedspread down with the other. As soon as he’d lain me down on the sheet, he stepped over to pull something out of his suitcase. Ropes? Toys? I watched him avidly, with no idea what he was up to until he pulled out a small box and set it on the nightstand.

  Oh. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten protection. Normally I’m super-cautious. I never forget. I trusted Will implicitly in the area of disease, but I hadn’t been on the pill since my last semi-serious relationship five years earlier. Embarrassed at my lapse and grateful that he’d remembered, I watched as he pulled out a condom and rolled it on. Good thing they make those in extra large.

  As soon as he was done, he moved onto the bed, coming to his knees between my legs. Sliding his hands under my hips, he lifted my butt up off the bed. He hooked his elbows under my knees and spread me wide before leaning down to taste me.

  I clenched my fists in the sheet at the first touch of his tongue on my swollen clit. Even though I’d just come, I was still achingly aroused, and the man was a master with his mouth. He licked his way up and down my slit, then stabbed his tongue up into my pussy, wringing another small orgasm from my overloaded system. After he licked up the rush of cream, he lowered me onto his thighs and slid his cock inside in one slow, steady thrust.

  Oh, goddess, I’d never felt so full in my life. I was drenched, but I still felt every bit of friction as he began to move, just because he had my tissues stretched to their limits. His movements were slow and sure, and I longed to make that iron control of his crack. I reached up and tugged on his arms, pulling him down on top of me. Or tried to—I couldn’t budge him, but after a moment, he shifted, lying above me with his weight propped on his elbows.

  “Wanted things up close and personal, huh?” He kissed the corner of my mouth.

  “Uh-huh. I wanted you to kiss me,” I told him.

  “All you have to do is ask.” He kissed me then, softly at first. Soon, he was thrusting his tongue in and out of my mouth in the same rhythm as his cock shuttled in and out of my cunt.

  The taste of my own juices on his mouth pushed me over yet again. I came harder this time, harder than I ever had. Flecks of light and darkness flashed behind my closed eyelids, and I wrapped my legs around his waist to hold on.

  Will must have liked the feel of my walls rippling around him, because he gave two more powerful thrusts, then he held himself deep while his whole body shook.

  We lay there wrapped together for several minutes, while our heaving lungs and racing hearts settled down. We were both coated with sweat, and my muscles were limp as yesterday’s pasta, but I’d never felt more alive in all my years.

  Finally, Will stirred. He untangled my limbs from his and vanished into the bathroom, returning moments later without the condom.

  I’d pulled the sheet up over myself and I gazed up at him uncertainly. “You want me to go to my own room now?”

  Will laughed and practically dove onto the bed. “Oh, sweetheart, we’ve only just begun.”

  Chapter Two

  I set the test strip on the counter and stood, making my way back to my bedroom, where I fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

  What to do next?

  It was Saturday morning. I’d planned to head into the office and catch up on some reports that I’d been avoiding. I might be able to get into the office without running into one of the guys. But I doubted it. There was always somebody working.

  My cousins Vaughn and Evan had come up with the concept for Guardian about eight years ago when Vaughn got out of the Marines. The other guys had all been brought in before they opened, but I was a newer member of the team. Now, five years later, there was finally another female at Guardian.

  All that was great. I liked Hannah—a lot. She held her own, took no shit from the boys, and never rubbed my nose in the fact that I’m the only one on the team with no formal police or military training. I’d loved being a bridesmaid—I may be a private investigator, but I love pretty dresses and shoes as much as the next girl. I also enjoyed having another woman to talk to.

  Except for the part about sleeping with her brother after the wedding. And oh, lord, the whole rest of the weekend. For the next two months, we’d alternated ignoring each other with bouts of wild monkey sex.

  I wanted to call Will, I really did. Almost as much as I dreaded it. There was a part of me that truly hoped he’d be thrilled about the baby, declare his undying love, and demand an immediate marriage. But he’d left the country two weeks earlier, slipping out of my bed without a word after a particularly intense night of passion. I hadn’t heard from him since. Not the signs of a man desperately in love. He’d been in touch with Rhys, about tech support, and with Vaughn about not needing backup, so I knew he wasn’t dead or anything. Which, to be honest, was a possibility that had kept me awake for a few nights. What we did at Guardian wasn’t always…safe.

  Oh, shit. After fighting so hard to get there, to pull my weight at the firm, I was going to have to take myself out of the field, for the next year or so, it looked like. Maybe permanently. I wasn’t sure I could justify risking my life if there was someone else who depended on me. And that meant I was going to have to tell my partners why I wasn’t accepting assignments. Soon. I hugged my arms around myself and sighed.

  “Get the hell home, Will. We need to talk.”

  I didn’t think he could hear me. Most of Will’s psychic powers were of the precognitive variety. But I know he’d felt it when his sister had crashed her cop car into a telephone pole last Christmas. So who knew what the hell he was hearing now?

  * * * *

  Once I’d stopped shaking, I dragged my ass into the shower, threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and walked to the office. I’d chosen the apartment because it was a mere two blocks from Guardian’s headquarters. I usually stopped for c
offee on the way, but I guess that was going to have to change too. My stomach rebelled at the idea of herbal tea, so I climbed the stairs to our second-floor digs above the coffee shop empty-handed.

  “Hey, Carys.”

  I looked up into the smiling face of my new cousin-in-law, who was perched on top of a file cabinet next to the empty reception desk. Hannah Lightfoot Maddox and I both have black hair, but there the resemblance ends. Her hair is straight, while mine curls maniacally. She’s tall, with tan skin, a Marilyn Monroe figure, green eyes, and cheekbones you could cut yourself on. Next to her, I felt even shorter, paler, flatter, and less polished than usual. Which is funny because she was wearing jeans and a San Diego PD T–shirt—not exactly glamorous. The woman would look good even covered in mud.

  “Hi, Hannah. Got the Porter case wrapped up so soon?”

  She snorted. “Yeah. It didn’t take a psychic to figure Mrs. Porter was diddling both the gardener and her tennis coach.” She tapped the file she held and shook her head, her long straight hair sliding silkily about her shoulders. “Now it’s all on film—digitally speaking—and poor old Mr. P. won’t have to cough up millions to be rid of the bitch.” Divorce and insurance cases were the bread and butter of a private investigations firm, even if none of us liked it very much. We all took turns dealing with that garbage.

  Hannah looked at me again, and her vivid green eyes, so like her brother’s, studied me carefully. “You okay? You look…troubled.”

  I forced a smile. Hannah is psychic like Will. They get it from their Navajo grandfather and Romany grandmother. If I didn’t want her to be the first with the news, I’d have to tread carefully. “I’m all right,” I said with a shrug. “Just not sleeping well, I guess.”

  “Hmm. You look like you need a vacation.” She gave me a wicked grin. “And I have the perfect solution. Will’s in San Alonzo, and he needs some equipment from Rhys. The boys were just arguing about who was going to fly it down to him. You can run the electronics down, then kick back on the beach for a few days afterward.”

  I plopped into one of the visitor chairs. I’d known Will was somewhere in Central America, but I’d figured he was in the heart of the jungle staking out some drug dealer’s compound or something. Not kicking up his heels in the lush, tropical resort city of San Alonzo, bustling capital of the tiny nation by the same name. “Tell me more.”

  “Hey, honey, did you get… Oh. Hi, Carys. What you doing here on a Saturday morning?”

  My cousin Evan is a big bear of a man…literally. I mentioned that everyone in our family is a shape shifter. Somewhere back in the family history, one of my Welsh ancestors did a favour for one of the Fae. He and his descendants were named the guardians of the local faery mound…and were given the power to transform into their spirit animals. Each of us makes the first change somewhere around puberty, and after that, it’s a matter of choice. Which animal we favour is different for each of us, but Evan is a huge, shaggy grizzly bear. Judging by the way Hannah’s face lit up when he walked into the room, she didn’t mind. At least that’s something I wouldn’t have to explain to Will—he already knew I could turn into a raven. If the guardian gene passed on to the baby, I was pretty sure Will wouldn’t freak.

  Evan crossed the room and gave Hannah a big wet kiss before taking the file from her hand. I had to fight down a pang of jealousy. I’d never seen my cousin so happy, and I’d give anything to have a guy look at me with the love and passion he directed at her. Okay, only one guy, really. The kicker to this whole thing was that somewhere over the last two months, I’d gone and fallen headfirst into love with Will Lightfoot.

  “Just catching up on some paperwork,” I replied to Evan’s question, even though I didn’t think either of them was listening. “Hannah said something about a package that needs delivering?”

  “Yeah, Rhys has some toys that Will needs—GPS stuff, mostly. Why? You want to run them down there?”

  I hesitated, not wanting to look too eager. This would give me the perfect chance to talk to Will without having to do an end run around the others first. “Yeah, I can do that. Pop down today, come back Monday or Tuesday. I’ve got a few days coming, might as well spend them somewhere sunny.” July in San Francisco was normally gorgeous, but this year it had been mostly damp. We were all feeling the effects of the streak of dismal weather, though I suspected my gloomy mood was mostly due to hormones and lack of sleep.

  “Cool.” Evan tipped his head towards the stairs. Rhys and his computer labs were in the basement of the old building, beneath the coffee shop. Yale sometimes hung out down there too, though his specialty was blowing things up, not building gadgets. “When can you leave?”

  “Give me an hour to pack, get me the case files so I don’t step in anything when I get there, and I can be on my way.” I stood and moved towards the stairs. “Tell Rhys to bring the package and the file to my apartment, okay?”

  “No problem,” Hannah said with a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She knew something was up, damn it. “Enjoy the beach.”

  * * * *

  On the first leg of the plane ride, I studied the files more than necessary, because it kept me from dwelling on other things. Like little pink plus signs.

  I’d already known that Will’s assignment involved tracking down the boss of a white-collar crime ring. Electronics smuggling, money laundering, that sort of thing. No sign that La Rosa Blanca was into any of the traditional Central American pastimes of running guns or drugs. But the Feds had their suspicions, and a friend of Will and Vaughn’s from their Marine recon days had asked Guardian to do some preliminary research. So Will was down there on a fake passport posing as a businessman looking for investment opportunities—a thinly veiled cover for a drug dealer who’d headed south to avoid the heat.

  I was just a tourist, visiting San Alonzo for a few days of sun and fruity drinks. Though in my case, they were going to be straight fruit juice. I’d just happen to run into Mr. William Lee in the hotel somewhere, and invite him back to my room. He could take the package, and I’d never see him again until we were both back home in San Francisco.

  That’s the way it was supposed to play out, anyway. Only I knew that somewhere in there, Will and I were going to have one hell of a serious talk.

  * * * *

  I snoozed for a couple of hours over Mexico. Fortunately, I wasn’t having any morning sickness or anything—not yet, at least—but I did seem to be god-awfully tired most of the time. It was midnight, local time, when I finally arrived, tired and crabby and annoyed at the cheerfully rude customs officials. But they hadn’t taken apart my laptop, printer, or giant-sized hairdryer, so they hadn’t found the goodies Rhys had stashed inside for Will. The only real electronics I had with me were my cell phone and PDA—from which the case file had been deleted, somewhere over Belize. Now all the appointments and files were appropriate to a legal secretary on vacation.

  The resort city had an active nightlife, so it was no trouble to catch a cab to the hotel. Another hour and a bunch of tips later, and I was checked in and waving away the sweet bell-hop who’d hinted at offering far more personal services than carrying my suitcase. I flopped down on the bed and drew in several deep, slow breaths.

  I was exhausted, but I knew I had to find Will. He’d indicated he’d be at the beachfront bar until closing tonight, waiting for whichever partner arrived with the goodies. Wouldn’t he be surprised to find it was me? But that meant I had to get up, change my clothes, and leave the comfy softness of my bed behind.

  I’d packed a short scarlet slip dress that was perfect for clubbing, and a pair of beaded, high-heeled flip flops. Tossing my jeans and tank top onto the bed, I shimmied into the silky-soft dress, and immediately felt just a little less worn down. There’s something about a slinky red dress that brings out the vixen in all of us—even for those of us who were never really vixens to begin with.

  I couldn’t do much with my hair. I left it loose, curling in a tangled mass down my back.
A stripe of bright red lipstick and silver hoop earrings were easy additions, along with the Celtic raven pendant I almost always wore on a thin silver chain. My folks had given that to me on my fifteenth birthday, not long before they died. I wouldn’t have traded it for all the diamonds in Amsterdam.

  I fortified myself with a bottle of water from the mini-bar and headed down to the bar, trying to quell the butterflies that were doing the tango in my stomach. Part of me was thrilled just to be seeing Will again after two weeks’ absence, but the rest of me was terrified at his reaction to my news.

  The beachfront bar was lit with colourful paper lanterns and featured a noisy flamenco band. I dodged a couple of wandering hands and turned down two overt passes as I made my way to the bar. Hopping up on a barstool, I ordered a big slushy fruit drink—virgin of course—making an off-hand remark about jet lag to the bartender to explain the lack of alcohol.

  “Hey babe, buy you that drink?” Out of nowhere, Will was there at my elbow, giving me an oily grin.

  “Maybe.” Flashing him my best coy smile, I made a point of looking down at his hand. “Depends on if you’re married.”

  “Not anymore.” He held up his unadorned left hand. “And I keep up my alimony payments, so the ex has no complaints.”

  “In that case, be my guest.” I pointed at the stool to my left. “My name’s Carrie. What’s yours?” I was travelling on my own passport, but Carrie is a lot less noticeable than Carys, so I usually used it on jobs.

  “Bill. Bill Lee.” He shook my hand, bowing over it. “Did I overhear that you just arrived?”

  We made fake small talk while I sipped my fruit slush, and he slowly worked his way through a light beer. Not Will’s drink of choice, but easier to consume in tiny increments than hard liquor, without giving the impression that you’re not drinking at all. Finally I set my empty glass down on the bar right next to Will’s beer bottle.