by Jaye Wells
Page 48
Delicious friction built lower down where two scraps of thin fabric were all that separated us. But just when I was about to push aside the lace and cotton, Adam flipped me over. The muscles in his chest and arms bulged as he leaned over me. Kissing down my chest, my stomach, my thighs. A magical tingle danced across my skin. I blinked, surprised to find myself completely naked. I looked down and realized I wasn’t the only one.
The mancy shot me an impish grin. Then I forgot what I was going to say because his hot breath teased the sensitive skin of my thigh. Without further warning, he dove in and delivered a long, slow lick that made my eyes cross.
Soon, my nails dug into his scalp and my hips rocked. Fangs scraping against my bottom lip, I searched for the orgasm he offered.
I didn’t have to look far.
The next moment, every muscle in my body stiffened. Adam rose up and absorbed my yell into his mouth. I tangled my tongue with his, enjoying the flavor of myself on him. Before the last spasm passed, I flipped him over, keeping our mouths connected.
Unable to wait any longer, I impaled myself on him. He obliged with a thrust of his hips. I stilled his movement with my hands on his shoulders. He seemed to understand my need to lead without hearing the words. I rode him hard, my knees digging into the mattress.
His hands threaded into my hair. I enjoyed the pain and rewarded him with a kiss made of tongue and fang. I nipped at his lip, drawing his sweet blood into my mouth. Adam moaned his approval. He pulled my head up and tried to meet my gaze. I closed my eyes against the wave of emotion building in my throat.
“Look at me, Sabina. ” His hand caressed my face. “Open your eyes. ”
I released my clenched lids. His pupils were dilated, and I almost believed I could see his soul hovering just behind them.
Our panting breaths mingled between our lips. Our hands glided over sweat-slicked skin. Our bodies yearned toward shared pleasure.
The visual connection, the physical one, the taste of his blood on my tongue morphed into a powerful yearning for his blood and something else— something even more primal. It snaked up through me and, judging from the light in Adam’s eyes, through him, too. Sparks of light rose around us, like frenzied fireflies.
“Do you feel it?” he whispered.
I swallowed and nodded, intrigued and not a little afraid of the power we created. The magic we made, literally and figuratively. Together.
I pulled away before I could give in to my baser temptation. But Adam’s hands wrapped around my neck and pulled me down. In his eyes, I saw the permission I sought but wasn’t sure I was ready to accept.
“Do it,” he whispered. His head tilted to the side, exposing the corded column of his throat with its seductive vein throbbing beneath golden skin.
I’d like to say I overcame my instincts and refused. That I was too strong to indulge that particular desire. In the light of day, it’s easy to say you’d never do something. But when the moon rises and passions are high, well, that’s another matter.
I hesitated, giving him a chance to change his mind. But he urged me on with his hands. To ease the way, I licked the salt from his skin. Suckling it until he was moaning and his thrusts picked up speed. Then, when I was sure he was distracted, I bit down.
Adam gasped and went totally still. I pulled away instantly, afraid I’d hurt him or that he might push me away. Instead, his hands pushed my face back to his neck. His blood flowed into my mouth freely. Tentatively at first, I lapped at the spot.
Only when he began thrusting again did I allow myself to fully indulge. I’m not sure if it was his mage genes— or just something about Adam in particular— but his blood tasted both sweet and spicy, like cinnamon and sugar and cardamom and every good thing ever. The infusion made the blood in my own veins dance, like a shot of effervescence to my system.
Right then, with Adam’s blood in my mouth and his cock deep inside me, I experienced my second true moment of freedom. The spasms sent me higher, bringing him with me. Our bodies didn’t literally levitate, but it sure as hell felt like we were flying. The French may call it “the little death,” but I’d never felt more alive.
I collapsed on Adam’s chest, letting him support my weight. My body felt both hollow and completely filled. I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to the aftershocks. Behind closed lids, flashes of red told me the sparks continued to flash around us. Adam’s chest heaved beneath me, and his hands roamed over the slick planes of my back.
When he slid from me, I felt the loss keenly. I opened my eyes in time to see the tiny lights fade around us.
My breathing slowed and he shifted beneath me. I lifted my cheek from his chest, fully expecting awkwardness to ruin the moment. But when I looked in Adam’s green eyes, I felt …. . confident. No, more than that. I felt powerful. Whole. Full of the mysterious and sacred feminine knowledge passed down from the Great Mother herself.
His lips lifted. “What are you thinking? You’re smiling like the Mona Lisa. ”
I kissed him once, twice, three times. “Nothing. ”
He eyed me suspiciously through droopy lids. “One of these days, you’re going to tell me all your secrets. ”
I ducked my head to hide the fade of my smile and the lie in my eyes. “I don’t have any secrets. ”
My conscience raised its head. After everything we’d just shared, I knew I had to make a choice tomorrow. I told myself it was for his own good. Sure, he might hate me after it was done. But better angry and alive than aware but doomed.
His hand tipped up my chin. I schooled my features but couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Hey,” he whispered. “Don’t go chasing dark thoughts. Just enjoy the fact we’re here together, finally. ”
I forced a wobbly smile and kissed him softly. My eyes stung, so I squeezed them shut and tried to show him everything I felt without saying the words I knew he wanted to hear. It seemed wrong somehow to give voice to them now. As if speaking them would sharpen the betrayal.
Finally, I pulled away and looked him in the eyes. “You’re absolutely right. By this time tomorrow, everything will finally be as it should. ”
27
The steady pings of rain on the roof woke me. Of course, woke was a relative term given how poorly I slept. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind filled with images of everything that could go wrong.
Adam’s body pressed against my back. A muscled arm snaked around my waist and his hand cupped my breast. I closed my eyes and savored the feel of him. A risky indulgence, but one I justified because it might be my last moment with him alone.
Too soon, the pressure in my gut from the sun’s descent forced me to move. Judging from the pressure, it was about four o’clock. Just an hour or so before night’s shadow spread over the Big Easy.
After the day spent making love, Adam slept soundly. His eyes didn’t flutter when I carefully removed his hand and slipped from the bed. I dressed quickly, my eyes on him for any sign of waking. Finally, I grabbed my gun from the nightstand and shoved it into my waistband. Just as the weapon slid home, Adam murmured my name and rolled away. I stilled, expecting him to jump up and demand an explanation. But he settled down and soon his slow, even breaths were the only sound in the room.
As I watched him, I realized that David had been right that a tough choice would have to be made. After the Queen’s order, I’d assumed the Maisie-versus-Lavinia issue would be that choice. But now I knew the choice was between saving those I loved and pursuing my own goals.
Too many lives had already been disrupted. Too many bodies injured. And in the early morning hours, wrapped in Adam’s arms, I asked myself the question that sealed my fate: Could I live with myself if anyone died? Not just Maisie, but Adam, Giguhl, Rhea, Zen, Georgia, or, hell, even Mac.
I’d been through it before. With Vinca. Her loss was still a hot, sore spot on my heart. Losing her hadn’t killed me, but it still haunte
d me. But Vinca died when I was the old Sabina. The one who didn’t understand the meaning of loss. The one who didn’t think about the consequences of actions.
This was the new me. The one who had more friends than she ever imagined. The one who had it in her power to protect those friends. This me understood that losing any of them would destroy me. So, in reality, this sacrifice I was about to make was totally selfish.
Maybe I hadn’t changed so much, after all.
I mentally shook myself. I knew one thing: The mere thought of Adam dying made me want to scream. Plus, one small sacrifice on my part meant he wouldn’t have to choose between duty to the Council and his conscience. I might not be able to offer him pretty words, but I could at least give him this much.
Besides, the more I thought about it, the more I realized going it alone seemed some sort of inevitable poetic justice. This whole drama had started with my parents and their star-crossed love affair. And now it would end with their daughter. I’d do everything in my power to save my sister, and then I’d do whatever it took to kill my grandmother before she could summon the master.
Fuck fate and David’s fatalism. I was going to make destiny my bitch.
With one last, longing look at Adam’s smooth, muscled back, I grabbed my boots and tiptoed from the room. Like a thief in the night, I crept down the hall. When I reached the door to the workroom, I heard the muffled sounds of Zen and Rhea making plans. Holding my breath, I made it by the door without any creaks of the floorboards to give me away. Farther down the hall, the fae’s door was also shut. But instead of hushed voices, I heard the telltale sounds of a snoring demon. Apparently, Giguhl had crashed in PW’s room. I paused, placing my hand on the door.
Not being able to say good-bye to Giguhl was one of my biggest regrets with this plan. Once I was dead, Giguhl would immediately return to Irkalla. Demons were always tethered to the mage who summoned them. If the mage died, the demon went back to the underworld. Adam would be able to bring him back, though, and I prayed they’d at least keep in touch. But if that wasn’t possible, I prayed my friend would eventually be able to forgive me.
Downstairs, I rushed through the empty shop, grabbing Zen’s keys from the back office as I went. I threw on my boots and opened the back door. With my hand on the knob, I stopped and looked over my shoulder. Behind me, the dark shop, with its musty, mysterious smells, sat in quiet judgment. Ahead, the rain had stopped, leaving the courtyard heavy with the scent of wet cobblestones and the sharp green scent of plants. A few rogue rays of late-afternoon sun broke through the cloud cover.
