“Wasn’t . . . just . . . a . . . bear.” Viv coughed. “Evil there. So much evil. Must protect my baby.”
Simone leaned back, awareness crashing through her along with curiosity. “Mother?”
“Protect Simone. She can never know,” Viv whispered. “God help me, the world can never know.” With those last words, Vivienne succumbed to the illness and became quiet.
Simone felt her mother’s pulse, gratified it was slow but steady. Her mind flared with possibilities, and her breath quickened. Evil? What in the world had Viv been hiding for so many years?
It was time to find out.
Nick finished carting in the manila files pertaining to Simone’s trial, more than happy to be staying at Viv’s secondary location. Simone had emerged from meeting with her mother pale and distracted, and she’d gone to shower in the guest bedroom after making an odd and frantic call to Bear, who hadn’t answered.
The Guards stationed around the house were placed well, and Nick had called in favors from a couple of friends who were also standing watch. Nobody was getting through him to harm either woman, so now he could concentrate on the trial and determining who wanted the Nine brought down so badly. The plan had taken decades to put into motion, so it could be anybody.
For now, his woman had brooded long enough, and it was past supper time. She needed to eat to regain her strength.
He left the files in the spacious kitchen and wandered through the bedroom, stopping at hearing a splash from the guest bathroom. A nudge to the bathroom door opened it enough to see Simone up to her neck in bubbles, her eyes closed.
Worry pinched her mouth, and her cheeks weren’t nearly pink enough for someone enjoying a heated bath. While she might not wish to share her concerns with him, he could at the very least take her out of her head for a moment.
The fact that she hadn’t heard him enter when she should be on full alert also concerned him. They’d work on that issue next.
He crossed into the room, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
Her eyelids opened halfway. “What are you doing?”
He held her gaze and dropped his shirt to the ground, reaching for his belt buckle.
Awareness filled her eyes. There it was. Protest came next.
Ah. The woman was feeling vulnerable, was she? He knew her, and he knew her well. The second she turned vulnerable, she shut everyone out. Or at least she tried to do so. It wasn’t easy with family, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be easy with him.
Not any longer.
“Nick, I’m not in the mood.” Her voice came out woodenly and so forcibly calm it made him grit his teeth.
“I am.” He shucked his pants.
“Too bad.” She shut her eyes again.
Not the response he wanted to see. Not at all. “Well then. There are a couple of different ways this could happen.”
“Just a couple?” Sarcasm laced her tone.
Good. Sarcasm was a start. “Yes.”
She opened her eyes again, those dark orbs starting to glimmer a little with emotion. Curiosity or irritation, he couldn’t tell. “Go away.”
“I’m done doing that.”
“Excuse me?”
“I went away for a century, and now I’m done doing that. I truly don’t like repeating myself, Simone.” He allowed his own frustration to echo in his tone.
“Then go talk to your damn self in the other room.” She slid farther down into the rose-scented bubbles.
Oh, he needed to be gentle when all he wanted was to plaster her ass with his handprint. But the lesson she need to learn, at least this time, was that she couldn’t push him away. Not again. “What upset you so when you spoke with your mother?”
“Nothing.”
“You sound like a spoiled teenager. Stop pouting and tell me the truth.” He was rapidly losing his hold on both his good intentions and his temper.
“My life is none of your business.” Her breath blew bubbles away.
A hurt, surprising in its sharpness, bladed through his chest. “Do you really mean that?”
She didn’t answer.
Damn it all to hell. If she really didn’t want him, he’d leave. But she not only wanted him, she needed him, and that was the fucking problem. Simone Brightston, because of the odd way she was raised, wouldn’t allow herself to need anybody. It was a good damn thing he was such an expert in strategy, now, wasn’t it? “You are the biggest brat I’ve ever met,” he said slowly.
She gasped and sat up. “You just called me a brat?”
“Yes. You’re not even at bitch level at the moment, Simone. You’re a whiny, pouty, sarcastic brat.”
Fire lit her eyes. Finally. She glanced around, somewhat frantically, for anything to throw.
“Only brats throw things.” He reached for the waist of his boxers.
“You take those off, and I’ll burn your cock right from your body.”
He paused. She wasn’t kidding. “You create one ounce of a flame, and I’ll be in your head forcing you to orgasm before you can throw.” He dropped the cotton to the ground.
She stood then, splashing water. Bubbles slid down her fit body in a scene so erotic he’d remember the picture forever. Too bad she was furious.
Fire crackled on her hands.
He lunged, wrapping an arm around her waist and tossing her to the carpet, landing square on top of her.
She gaped at him, looking up, her body a slippery mass against his. “What in the world is wrong with you?”
“You.” He grasped her arms and pulled them above her head. His surprise move had snuffed her fire for now. “From day one, you are my only damn weakness, and nowadays I have more worries than I can count.” Maybe if he admitted his, she’d do the same.
“There is nothing weak about you, and you worry about nothing.” She rolled her eyes.
“Oh yeah? I worry every day about where you are, what you’re doing, and what harm might come your way. I worry that you won’t call me when you need help.” He settled his raging cock between her legs. “I worry about Zane, about the nation, about his baby, and about his mate. I worry about the king, the Realm, and even the damn Coven Nine.” He leaned in until his lips hovered just above hers. “More than all of that, I worry that I’ll never get to taste you again. Each time I do, it hurts because I know it might be the last time.”
Then he lowered his head, and his lips took hers.
Chapter 17
Simone didn’t have time to answer, even if she had a reply, before Nick kissed her. He took her deep in a sensual assault that was all the more dangerous for the gentleness behind it.
She wanted fast and hard, and she wanted to forget reality. But as he kissed her, sweeping her mouth with his tongue, she could do nothing but accept him—all of him. His hard body against hers, pressing her into the carpet. His dick at her core, straining against her, wanting inside so badly.
Of their own volition, her thighs widened to make room for him. Now, with him over her, she felt alive in a way she’d forgotten.
Even with danger all around them, for the moment, only he existed.
He reared back, stretched across her, keeping her hands captive. “Your beauty, as stunning as it is, barely compares with the wonder inside you. The absolute sweetness and spirit at your core.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “The brilliance and the kindness.”
She blinked, tears suddenly pricking her eyes. Most men stopped at her face or her body and never looked deeper. Nick had always seen her in a way that exposed too much. “Nick—”
“No, baby.” He licked across her bottom lip, sending sparks of pleasure through her mouth to zing down to her breasts. “No retreating and no hiding. Not tonight.”
The struggle inside her, the one motivated by self-preservation, stilled. She settled into the thick carpet, her fingers curling between his. She didn’t have the strength or energy to fight his demand, and frankly, she didn’t want to. The memory of the little cottage he’d bought for her
so long ago wouldn’t leave her mind or her heart. Not yet, anyway. “I’ve missed you, Nicholai.”
His eyes darkened in the way they did when she used his full name. “My dreams have been filled with you, even in the worst of times. You gave me hope.”
How the hell was she supposed to shield herself from that kind of truth? She stretched up and took his mouth, not surprised when he pressed her back down, taking over the kiss with heat and a demon’s fire. She tried to focus. “I have something to tell you. We need to talk.”
“We will.” He licked down her neck, kissed her collarbone, and moved to her breasts. His hands pressed hers to the ground. “Stay where I put you.” Releasing her, he caressed across her chest.
“No.” She wanted to touch every inch of him, just in case the world turned south again. Memories and dreams mattered in her world. She lifted her hands—
“Stop.” His head rose, and demand glittered in his eyes. “Hands. Back. Down.”
She faltered and then stiffened. “Bossy doesn’t work for me.”
The air changed, grew heated. “Put your hands back down, or I will.” He clasped her hips, his fingers digging in.
She grinned. “Your hands are busy.”
“Who says I need my hands?” he asked silkily.
She paused. Challenge and curiosity rose in her, hard and fast. “I do.”
That quickly, her hands slammed back down on either side of her head, invisible ropes winding around her wrists. Invisible ties much stronger than she was. Her mouth dropped open, and heat flashed through her. “Nick.”
He lowered his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Lava engulfed her, and she arched against him, even while trying to think. Mind control? Very few demons had the ability, and it usually took eons to develop. “Wait,” she whispered. Could he use her powers? Was she vulnerable?
His tongue lashed her nipple and then he released her to pin her with a hungry gaze. “I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, and I can’t control your mind or even combine powers with you unless you let me. However, with you aroused, apparently I can have some effect on your body.” His slow smile held more threat than amusement. “Agree to behave.”
That was it. Fire flashed along her wrists, and she broke free of the mental ropes.
He laughed out loud. “Beautiful. You really want to play?”
She lifted her chin. “Bring it on.”
His gaze pinned hers, and heat slid through her brain, inside her skull. A force, one she fought, slowly lowered her hands back to the carpet. Her breath caught, and she tried to fight the bonds, but they held fast this time.
His power intrigued the hell out of her.
She breathed out, unable to look away.
Ice, the strong sense of it, washed along her torso. She tilted her head, her eyes widening. “How?”
He didn’t answer, but the ice slid lower, along her abdomen,
She tried to move, caught in the moment, but the ice didn’t stop. If she was able to look, she wouldn’t see anything, but the cube felt as real as any ice cube invented. The second the chill moved over her clit, she moaned and pushed hard against him. The ice slid inside her, and she bit her lip to keep from orgasming.
He grinned then, his nostrils flaring.
Her breath panted out. Then the ice turned to heat, and a flame flicked her clit.
She detonated, shutting her eyes, crying out. As the waves pummeled her, shooting through her, he lifted her hips and powered inside her with one strong stroke.
The second he filled her, she went off into another climax. He was so big, so hard, her flesh stretched around him with a sizzling burn that shut down her brain. She tried to jerk her hands free, to touch him, but those invisible bonds held tight. She came harder at the thought.
Finally she drifted down, even while he powered inside her, pumping hard and fast. She bit his shoulder, trying to find any sense of an anchor in the wildness.
As her teeth broke his flesh, her palms ached with a solid burn. The marking of the witch. If she marked him, she’d mate him. But she couldn’t move, so she released his shoulder from the bite of her teeth.
Sudden, fierce ecstasy bowed her back, and she arched against him. Hot and wild spasms vibrated through her, throwing her into pure pleasure. He held her, hammered harder, and dropped his head to the crook of her neck as he came with a shudder.
They lay against each other, both panting, their ragged breaths echoing through the room. It took her a moment to realize her hands were free. She lowered them, caressing over the hard sinew of his shoulders and down his damp back.
He lifted up, gaze searching.
She smiled, lightness filtering through her. “Let’s do that again.”
Nick stacked another pile of papers at the edge of the long kitchen table, rapidly clicking facts into place. He hadn’t forgotten her mention that she had something to tell him, but gut instinct warned him to proceed slowly. “Those bank records hold your signature.”
“I know.” She twisted her lip and glanced out the wide window toward the green rolling hills.
What the hell? He reached for several documents that showed money being transferred through accounts from a deceased witch named Trevan Demidov to Trivet Corporation, an entity that he’d traced through several shell corporations that seemed to own mines producing planekite. The transfers had taken place after Trevan’s death, which apparently had been nearly twenty years ago. “Tell me about Trevan,” Nick said.
Simone cleared her throat and fidgeted. “He was a member of the Coven Nine, we dated, and he tried to kill me.”
Nick stilled. “Excuse me?”
She shrugged a delicate shoulder in a pretty lavender silk blouse. “Well, to be honest, I tried to kill him first.”
The reins he kept on his temper began to fray. “Start explaining now.”
Defiance crossed her features, and she tossed her head.
“I mean it, Simone.” He was done playing nice. The woman needed a good defense, and he was starting to wonder whether he’d be able to offer one. “Talk.”
She rolled her eyes. “Trevan was a complete dick who was trying to take over the Coven Nine with the love of his life, Grace Sadler. Oddly enough, she had been mated eons ago and had lost her mate, so she and Trevan couldn’t do more than spend time together. They never touched, or the mating allergy would’ve killed them. He was killed by a vampire, and cousin Moira challenged Grace to a power fight, winning Grace’s place on the Coven Nine.”
Nick frowned. “Moira isn’t on the Nine.”
“No. She won but she wanted to remain an Enforcer, so she nominated her sister, Brenna.”
Damn witches and their secrets. “Grace died?”
“No. She’s probably licking her wounds somewhere, and it should take another couple hundred years for her to regain her power. We’ve kept tabs on her. From her earlier mating, she has two grown children. They’re outlaws, and Phillipe Sadler has been known to speak out against the Nine. He’s weak but loud.”
Nick tapped the papers, his instincts humming. “Grace and her adult kids are still alive. Do you think she’s the one who set you up?”
“No.” Simone reached for more papers to study. She should probably tell him the full truth about her activities throughout the century. “I don’t think Grace has any contacts or power, but we should probably double-check with the Guard. Whoever has targeted the Nine has also set me up. We have many enemies, you know.”
He rubbed the shadow along his jaw. “That does seem odd. Everyone has been targeted with darts, even you, but you’ve also been targeted with these allegations.”
She paled. “What are you thinking?”
He hated to say it out loud. “I think you have more than one enemy making a move right now. It doesn’t make sense for somebody to spend all this time and resources on creating darts filled with planekite to harm the Nine and also put together this elaborate case against you.”
“Oh.”
Her lips trembled when she gave him the weakest smile he’d ever seen.
“Don’t shut me out.” He tried to soften the order, but his temper emerged with bite. “Not now. Work with me.”
“I’m not shutting you out. It’s just a surprise that I need to look over both shoulders and not just one.” She reached behind her to the pale yellow counter to grasp the coffeepot so she could pour two more cups.
“Simone?”
“Yes?” she asked, her gaze on the cups, but not fooling him a bit.
“Why is your signature on these documents?”
She carefully, very carefully, turned to replace the pot. “Well, if you must know, I may have committed theft, fraud, and possibly treason.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.” He kept his voice level when all he wanted to do was shout for her to get to the damn point and explain herself.
A blush colored her high cheekbones. “Trevan and I were close.”
Nick snorted. “I’m well aware of your relationship, and any relationships you have had during the last one hundred years.” He held up a hand when she started to speak. “I don’t want details, believe me. However, it’s time to explain.”
Her hands wrapped around her mug. “Trevan and I made several investments, and they all were consolidated before his death. Since he was tried and convicted posthumously of treason, all of his holdings were to be transferred to the Nine. I, ah, didn’t transfer all of them.”
Nick sat back, trying to keep his mouth from gaping. “Why?”
She shrugged. “The Nine used all his money for security and increasing the wealth of the coven, which is important, I admit. I used it for what I believed was a better cause.”
He wasn’t going to like her explanation. He just knew it. “Wait a minute.”
She hunched forward. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ah, hell. “It was you. You were the one who kept the weapons stocked on the islands for my people. For the demons.” He and Zane had fought hard against Suri, Zane’s uncle, often finding surprising caches of weapons and money to fund their underground war. “I thought the help came from the King of the Realm.”
Wicked Burn Page 14
