Idols and Enemies (Amplifier 4)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  His tongue teasing mine, Aiden hauled me into his lap. I settled awkwardly with my legs hanging over the arm of his chair. But when I tried to shift, he pinned me in place by slipping a hand up my leg — and without any preamble, he pushed my panties to the side.

  I gasped into his mouth.

  He grinned wickedly, transferring his lips and tongue to my neck, only to dart back quickly to plunder my mouth. As if he needed me, needed this connection, in order to survive the next few moments.

  I spread my legs for him — somehow having the wherewithal amid the mounting desire and heat building at the apex of my thighs to lean over and place the iPad flat on the table.

  I was fairly certain we had to accept the call from Opal before the camera triggered, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

  Aiden’s grip across my back tightened — I had one of his arms still pinned under me — and he groaned into my mouth, dipping his fingers into my heat, then slipping up to tease exactly where I wanted him. I pressed against his fingers, trying to shift so that I could free my own hands and reciprocate.

  “Breasts,” Aiden snarled.

  I blinked, not quite certain what he meant, not by tone at least.

  He flashed me an almost-feral grin. “I’ve only got the one free hand, and I don’t want to move it. Not in any way that it isn’t already being moved.”

  “Okay,” I panted.

  He increased the pace and pressure of his fingers between my legs. “You have perfectly useable hands —”

  “The position is awkward for —”

  “Not for what I want.”

  The deep heat in my core was spreading, radiating across my belly and down my thighs. I was having a difficult time concentrating on anything other than the pleasure Aiden was effortlessly coaxing from me. “Which is?”

  “Lean back,” he demanded quietly.

  A slow smile spread over my face as I followed his direction. One of my arms was twisted behind me, hand braced on the arm of Aiden’s chair, holding me upright.

  Aiden grunted, satisfied. “Now open your dress.”

  With my free hand, I loosened the wide belt of my wrap dress. Then I tugged the front-wrapped fabric slightly open, widening the vee of the neckline. The linen dress softened every time I washed it, but was still thick enough that I didn’t bother wearing a bra underneath.

  I managed to get one breast partly exposed before Aiden leaned over and took the already-taut nipple in his mouth. Pleasure exploded, deepening the build I was already trying to keep under control. I gasped.

  “Yes,” Aiden murmured, transferring his attention to kissing the flesh of my breast. Then, tugging the other side of the dress open with his teeth, he focused on my other breast. “Yes, my Emma.”

  I was panting, moaning quietly, shifting my free hand to press just above my mound through my dress. Aiden had shown me that pressing like that, even rubbing in time with his ministrations, intensified my orgasms.

  “Yes, Emma,” Aiden repeated between sucks and gentle nips. “Come for me, my Emma.”

  My head fell back. I forgot about feeling awkward, about not contributing. A wave of fierce satisfaction filtered empathically through from everywhere Aiden touched me. I wasn’t certain why pleasuring me was grounding him, settling him, but it obviously was.

  The bottom of my feet started to tingle. I stretched into the pleasure, tensing all the muscles in my legs and abdomen, riding an almost-painful wave of pleasure as it arced up through me, then exploded.

  I cried out. Loudly. Bucking under Aiden’s hand as he continued to caress me through the crest of my orgasm. “Aiden, I —”

  He sucked my nipple into his mouth.

  I moaned, panting, as residual spasms of pleasure racked me.

  Aiden slowed the pace of his fingers between my legs, but didn’t stop.

  I grasped his wrist. “I don’t think I can make it a second time without —”

  He kissed me tenderly, slowing his ministrations further until he was just teasing me, slipping to and fro in my heat.

  I kissed him back, groaning into his mouth as a second wave of pleasure built between my legs, then crested so quickly that it seemed to come out of nowhere. I cried out, again bucking under his fingers.

  He cupped his hand over my mound, just holding me as the spike of pleasure settled into a satiated warmth between my legs. A slight breeze prickled across my nipples.

  I opened my eyes to meet Aiden’s soul-searing gaze. “Well, you seem pleased with yourself, sorcerer.”

  He grinned. His smile was softer, less feral.

  I shifted into a more comfortable position in his lap, brushing the hair that had fallen over his brow to the side. He reached up, capturing my hand and kissing the palm. I curled my fingers into his cheek, enjoying the rasp of his stubble on my skin while I tried to sort out the emotions I could feel coming from the sorcerer. He did seem satisfied, more settled. But there was something else still lurking behind it all.

  Apparently, I was going to have to use words to figure it out. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

  “Of course not,” he said lazily. As if he’d just been the one to orgasm rather abruptly. Twice.

  Okay, I’d guessed wrong. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  His shoulders stiffened, just for a moment. Then he smoothed his fingers down my arm, enjoying the skin contact. “I might need to —”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Yes, no. You’re not going anywhere.”

  He blinked at me, then smiled and frowned at the same time. A sense of being pleased but concerned filtered through to me.

  “We’re a we,” I reiterated.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m just going to repeat that. A lot.”

  He nodded. “I seem to need it repeated.”

  A little pinpoint of pain opened up in my chest. Damn it. I hated that. I was a rational being. “Because you doubt me? My commitment?”

  “No.” His tone was rough, blunt. “No, Emma. I just … completely irrationally … I just don’t want to expose you.”

  “To who?” I asked, genuinely confused. “The other members of the Collective?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not being …” He cleared his throat, then shook his head, changing his mind about what he wanted to say. “This is what I want. Here with you, and Opal and Paisley.”

  “And possibly the other four,” I murmured.

  He smirked in agreement. “I’m not interested in getting pulled into whatever game my father has going on. I won’t be his pawn, and I won’t allow him access to you. Not if I can help it.”

  I just looked at him, listening. The chances of Kader Azar not at least sending an emissary to follow up on his letter to his son were exceedingly slim.

  Aiden growled quietly, then hissed as if displeased at himself. At his reaction. “I know … I know, we talked about it …”

  “We didn’t discuss the possibility that he might be reaching out for non-nefarious reasons.”

  “Everything he does is nefarious!”

  “Okay.”

  “Emma … I … I know you know …” Aiden clenched his hands to fists, getting a handful of my dress in each, then immediately relaxed his grip.

  I trailed my fingers up his forearm, and he sighed, relaxing his head back against the chair. I shifted in his lap, wiggling my ass just a little. Playfully.

  A slow grin replaced the anger that had been edging his expression. His eyelids became heavy. He reached into the loose front of my dress to caress my breast, slipping his fingers underneath, taking the weight in his palm as he lightly flicked the nipple until it tightened and rose under his thumb.

  “Bedroom,” I murmured.

  “I’m not going to get any farther than the kitchen table.”

  “That works.” I straightened, capturing his mouth in mine as I shifted to straddle him.

  He grabbed my ass, tucking me as close as the chair would allow. It w
asn’t close enough, so he shifted out from the chair, perching nearer the edge so I could rub myself against his hardening length.

  I had no issue with Aiden working out what he was feeling, and what he wanted to do about it, while having sex. Or rather, after having sex.

  A trill sounded behind us.

  Too mechanical for a bird …

  “Opal!” I gasped into Aiden’s mouth.

  He laughed, far too pleased by his ability to distract me.

  I jumped off him, tugging down my dress and cinching the belt. Aiden, still smirking, simply crossed his legs and reached for the iPad.

  I sat down, picked up my iced tea, and pressed it against my neck, alternating sides. “I’ll be paying you back, sorcerer.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Twice?”

  I growled playfully. “The once will sideline you so badly you won’t have the use of your legs for hours afterward.”

  He laughed huskily. “Threats, amplifier. I like it.”

  “I don’t threaten.” I grinned at him, then met him halfway as he leaned over to brush his lips against mine.

  Then he flipped the iPad over, propped it up, and accepted the call from Opal.

  The young witch appeared on the screen, chin propped on her hands, earbuds in her ears, and a wild halo of sun-streaked dark-brown curls all around her head. She grinned, flicking her brown-flecked blue eyes between the two of us, taking in the iced tea in my hand and the ginger snaps Aiden had grabbed from the plate next to the iPad.

  “Hey,” she cried. “It’s too early for tea!”

  My chest warmed, as it always did whenever I caught sight of her crooked eyeteeth. Soon, she was going to ask permission to get her teeth fixed. And I was going to have to say yes.

  “Aiden begged,” I said.

  Opal nodded. “There should be two tea times anyway. One before lunch, and then the regular one before dinner.”

  “Only logical,” Aiden said agreeably.

  The thirteen-year-old pouted playfully. “But now I want ginger snaps.”

  “Tell us about your day,” I said, leaning back in my chair, curling my legs underneath me.

  Opal huffed, playfully indignant that I wasn’t going to indulge her about the lack of ginger snaps. But then she glanced around as if to make sure she was alone. Technology only worked in the designated media rooms of the Academy. Not in the dorms. At least not reliably.

  A wide grin spread across the witch’s face as she whispered, “Emily totally snuck an artifact in … from home, you know. We’re researching it.”

  “Emily?” I murmured quietly to Aiden. Opal hadn’t made many friends at the Academy, at least not initially. But in the past two months, she’d started to mention more names. Work and study partners mostly, but a few burgeoning friendships as well.

  “Necromancer,” Aiden murmured back. “Powerful family from the east coast of Canada. The Hawes. Old bloodline. Emily is the youngest by over a decade. The last generation was plagued with males.”

  Opal pointed her finger at Aiden. “You’d better not be checking up on me, sorcerer.”

  “Did you expect anything else?” I asked lightly, incredibly grateful for the sorcerer at my side. For so many reasons that I was losing count.

  Opal huffed, crossing her arms. “No.”

  “The artifact?” Aiden prompted.

  The witch’s grin returned in an instant. Opal shifted forward, her animated face completely filling the screen, eyes flashing — with mischief. “It contains a spirit.”

  “Of course it does,” I murmured.

  “A trapped spirit?” Aiden said, sounding completely intrigued. “In an amulet?”

  “A tiny music box. At least we think it’s a music box, because it’s got little gold feet …” Opal raised three fingers. “It’s oval, and this wide, and, like, no longer than my forefinger. Gold with some sort of blue stone with gold dust in it. It’s runed and everything. Emily thinks it’s a great-grandmother who, like, went crazy and then had to be trapped in it.”

  That didn’t sound right. “After she died?” I asked.

  Opal shrugged.

  “The stone is probably lapis lazuli.” Aiden tilted his head thoughtfully. “So the gold flecks are actually pyrite. Fool’s gold. Perhaps crafted so a necromancer could draw from the death magic contained in the artifact … to augment their own casting? Is that ability specially tied to the Hawes bloodline?”

  Opal tugged a notebook in front of her, picking up the silver-etched fountain pen that Aiden had given her for passing her term exams, and rapidly jotting down some notes. “Don’t know. I’ll add that to our list of things to figure out. We’re working on the inscription on the bottom first. It isn’t English.”

  “Makes sense,” Aiden said, ginger snaps and tea forgotten. “The inscription might let you know what, or who, you’re dealing with. I would then suggest researching the great-grandmother and understanding her power set before moving forward with tapping into the power of the artifact.”

  Tapping into the power of the artifact sounded like a terrible idea, even if Opal — as a witch — wouldn’t be the one to wield whatever magic was housed in the music box. I leaned forward, physically inserting myself into the conversation. “Is this something your principal should know about?” I asked. “Should she be overseeing your research? Or one of the professors of necromancy?”

  Aiden, in person, and Opal, on the iPad, looked at me with mirrored looks of horror.

  “No way!” the witch declared.

  “Absolutely not,” the sorcerer said, seemingly aghast.

  I sighed, giving Aiden a look.

  He winked at me, then turned back to Opal. “Just don’t try to open it. Not unwarded.”

  Opal snorted. “What am I, an idiot?” Then she spun around in her seat, responding to something off-screen. She nodded and waved in apparent agreement, then turned back to us. “Got to go! Sushi! We’re watching Captain Marvel! And it’s still in the theaters!”

  I had no idea what that was, other than an apparently military-themed movie. I had even less idea why the Academy would choose something like that for their magically inclined students to watch. “Okay. But listen to —”

  Opal disconnected the call.

  I blinked at the blank screen, then gave Aiden a look.

  He laughed. “You know it’s a dud.”

  “What?”

  “The artifact. The music box. You think the Hawes family just left an heirloom of power out for the youngest necromancer in a generation to purloin?”

  “So it’s a … test?”

  Aiden shrugged. “A harmless game. But yes, a bit of intrigue. A focus for Emily’s power while she’s learning.”

  I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t like games.

  Aiden laughed. Then he stretched out his legs and patted his lap. “I believe you were threatening me with a sexual act so intense that it would wear me out for days.”

  I grinned at him, unfolding my legs and setting my iced tea down on the table next to the iPad.

  Aiden kept his gaze on me and a soft smile on his face as I crossed to climb back into his lap. He grabbed my ass with both hands as I captured his bottom lip between my teeth, playfully.

  “I wouldn’t mind being worn out,” he whispered against my kisses. “Wrung out … just … without thought … for a little while.”

  “I’m happy to oblige,” I murmured, wiggling off him and stepping back.

  He groaned. But his feigned dissatisfaction was quickly quashed as I undid my dress, slipping it from my shoulders. Then, clad only in my lace thong, I crossed into the kitchen, teasing over my shoulder, “You said something about the kitchen table?”

  Aiden was on his feet and after me without another breath. Without another word. And, hopefully, without another thought of his father’s machinations.

  Chapter 2

  A light, warm breeze stirred the lace curtains half drawn across the sunlit window, caressing the bare skin of my shoulder and back.
The sheets crumpled underneath me were crisp, though my mind lingered in a hazy, delicious post-orgasm fog. My fourth of the day, and it technically wasn’t even time for tea yet.

  Sprawled on his back across three-quarters of the bed beside me, with every glorious bit of his tanned skin exposed, Aiden drew in a deep, fully relaxed breath, then slowly exhaled. I curled my toes under his foot, seeking some skin contact but not wanting to pull him from his light, obviously contented doze.

  I wasn’t certain yet if I’d followed through on the promise of physically draining him so much that he wouldn’t be able to walk, because neither of us had left the bed in the last two hours. Or been fully upright.

  I adored having sex in the afternoon. It was a luxury we were rarely able to indulge in — especially not with the bedroom windows and door wide open. Not without triggering the runes that Aiden had painted around the casings of those same windows and the doorframe to muddy Christopher’s sight. Blocking the clairvoyant completely was near to impossible — at least not without working Christopher’s blood into the runes. Even then, his magic would eventually break through.

  So Aiden and I usually had sex late in the evening, keeping our endearments or demands to a whisper and our moans muffled. But there had been no need to stifle ourselves today, and Aiden had determinedly worked through the tension — and the draining of his magic — triggered by opening his father’s letter.

  The cellphone perpetually charging on top of my high bureau buzzed. The noise was almost too quiet to pick up under Aiden’s steady breathing. Technically, it was my phone, set there by Christopher a couple of days before he’d left.

  Except for the months I’d been hospitalized at the compound and kept mostly under sedation, the clairvoyant and I hadn’t been parted for more than twenty-four hours in the entirety of our twenty-nine years. But now he was so far away that the magic of the tattoo that usually simmered on my spine — specifically, on my T3 vertebra — was completely dormant. It was a sensation I’d long gotten used to with my other three blood tattoos. But the feel of the clairvoyant’s magic under my skin was something I missed.