by Lisa Daniels
“Oh, like the difference between football and rugby fans?” Morgana said. At Theon’s expression, she corrected with, “Soccer and kind of like American football but without helmets and only side and back passing and possibly quite a lot of smashed ears and noses.”
“Yeah, I guess?” Theon didn’t really know what she meant, and she seemed more than willing to elaborate.
“Football, uh, soccer fans have a kind of reputation for being more violent, looking for fights after a match. And what you see down there is people often faking a hit to get an advantage in their team’s favor. Then you have rugby, where big, meaty people are smashing into one another, and it’s not uncommon to see some blood. In fact, I think rugby players tend to need to retire young because of the risk to their own brains from the constant impacts,” she said, rubbing the bottom of her lip thoughtfully with one knuckle. “It’s pretty brutal, and their fans don’t get nearly as angry as the soccer ones.”
“Yeah,” Theon said again. He became momentarily distracted by the way the light gleamed in Morgana’s pale brown eyes. “That does sound correct. And we know people liked watching gladiators fight to the death. Even though we’re a little more civilized nowadays, I think there’s still that urge to see something like this.”
“It won’t happen,” Morgana said. “Not unless you have people literally donate their bodies and souls, but once you’re dead, your thoughts don’t remain the same. You’re affected by the ether, by all the energies swirling in it. You corrupt, you move on, you have limited thinking processes, like you’re just the shadow of your living self. People still don’t like to acknowledge the Other Side, so I also imagine there’ll be some fights about laws for the deceased, too. Can’t see it ever legalizing.”
“Shame,” Theon murmured. “I actually wouldn’t mind going to see such an event myself.”
“Theon!” Morgana gaped at him. “You don’t actually like going to those places, do you?”
“To be honest, they seem a lot more organized than some of the fight pits I’ve been to for shifters,” he said, which caused Morgana to shake her head.
“Wow, I’m learning something new about you here. And here I was, thinking you were just a nice bodyguard out to make a buck protecting people.”
“I’m that, too. But hell, if they said I was going to be in a ring tomorrow, fighting against another bear shifter...” Theon allowed a big, feral grin to take over his face. “I would be all in.”
“Huh.” The pupils in Morgana’s eyes expanded, and her body language suddenly became shy but open, turned toward him. Things he picked up on, things that made his heart quicken.
Their gazes locked. Theon held his breath, blood roaring in his ears. He was finding it harder and harder to keep making small talk, because he just wanted to take her right then and there…
Morgana let out a little huff of breath. She seemed to be mentally preparing herself for something. Theon watched and waited, not wanting to jump in, to ruin the moment, to break her resolve before it had fully formed.
“Eh, screw it,” she said, closing the distance, lifting her face to his, and planting a small, chaste kiss on his lips. He completely froze. He forgot how to think, and his eyes remained open. Morgana drew back from his lips, now going red, thinking she’d messed up. Her eyes went to the floor. “I, uh, I’m sorry,” she stammered, before Theon finally snapped out of his brain freeze. He placed one finger under Morgana’s chin, lifting her face once more, and connected their lips again.
It went much better the second time around. Blood thundered in his brain, ears, cheeks as he grasped her, not wanting to let go of the moment, of the ferocious, proud purring in his chest as she succumbed to him.
Mine, his ursine thought, pressing against his brain, but he shrugged it aside to drown in her floral scent, listen to the little gasps and snatches of breath she took between kisses, and enjoy the way her body moved against his.
This was a storm he didn’t want to stop, and he didn’t dare use words for the first few moments, until her hands became more groping, more needy, and he regretfully forced himself to stop.
“Wait a moment,” he breathed, placing one finger on her lips to stop her seeking out another kiss. “Wait.”
Her eyes opened from their closed state, and they were glazed in desire, in confusion. “What?”
“Maybe we’re going too fast. I mean, are you—do you want this?”
Morgana stared at him with a completely frozen expression, before rolling her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“I’d like to hear you say it, all the same,” he replied, heart beating faster in excitement.
“Fine. I want you. I want this. Clear enough?”
“Very.” He captured her lips with his own, sinking into the moment, feeling his cock stiffen in his pants, creating an uncomfortable tightness. He pressed closer, because he wanted her to feel the erection against her, to have the promise in his body language reel her in closer. He wanted her to feel like she was being claimed, possessed, and he let out a small groan of his own when she began fumbling to free him down there.
Not so fast. Hard to keep the momentum going if she went for him straight away—not before he had a chance to savor everything.
He picked her up, getting them into position upon his bed, lying on her side as he kissed more intently, lightly batting her away if she attempted to reach for a prize of her own.
“Patience,” he whispered against her lips. “I want this to last. If you keep doing that, it’s not going to last long.”
She groaned, which quickly turned into a moan when he slid a hand under her shirt, palm gliding against smooth skin and little hairs, fingertips touching the underside of one breast.
It was so, so easy to get lost in the moment. To have nothing but the body matter, and the sounds that escaped them both, and the sanctum of the bed.
Eager to reveal her in full, he removed her clothing bit by bit, until she lay beneath him, exposed and writhing from pleasure. He kissed, stroked along her skin, teased the globes upon her chest, and dipped between her legs to the wetness forming there. He wanted to play her like an instrument, pressing different strings and keys to elicit perfect sounds from her lips, to inspire him to keep going whenever he felt the slightest ring of doubt for his actions, that they shouldn’t be crossing this line, that he should refuse to take things further and let them fizzle out to a natural close.
His body and primal instincts had a different idea of the whole situation.
He wriggled out of his clothes, after fumbling in his bag for that unused pack of condoms buried in there for months before he’d even met Morgana. Moving back to her, he showed her the packet, which made her blush, before she examined him from head to toe, her eyes lingering between his legs, where his manhood stood proud and ready.
Not yet. He slyly placed the packet on the side of the bed, before lowering himself onto her, kissing her neck, gradually sliding his lips down to either breast, taking his time on each peak, hearing the rapid pulsing of her own heart under the blushing flesh that covered her front.
“Oh god,” she panted, when he finished work on her chest and moved lower still, lips pressing against her belly button, tongue dipping in it for the briefest of moments, before his chin brushed against her trimmed pubic hair. He smelled the enticing aroma of her arousal, and his own mouth watered slightly in anticipation, before he searched for her bundle of nerves, locating it and latching his lips onto it.
The shock reverberated through her body as if she were struck by lightning, and it sent a similar effect through his own skin. Her reaction galvanized him, encouraged him to keep going and do everything in his power to conjure more reactions from her. To have her break and gasp beneath him was a dangerous, thrilling addiction. His heart beat faster until he thought it might leap out of his chest, and he clamped down on her legs to stop her writhing and retracting herself from the stimulation.
You’re mine, he thought, nails digging into th
e soft flesh of her thighs. And I’ll make you scream.
Within moments of his teasing, Morgana let out a string of expletives, gasps, and shuddering moans, her whole body tensing, injected by the orgasm that shot through her limbs. All from simple tongue stimulation. He grinned, waiting for her to relax slightly, before teasing a finger inside, testing to see how tight she was. She gritted her teeth and moaned as one finger turned to two, and he curled within as an experiment on her sensitivity.
Very sensitive. Delicious. He slid up her body, kissing along the way, reaching for his condom, tearing open the packet for an ultra-thin.
She watched, eyes hooded in desire, as he rolled it on and inspected it for any breaks in the material. He much preferred sex without it, but he certainly didn’t want to complicate things and make her feel uneasy if he didn’t wear one.
He fell onto her again, tongue thrusting into her mouth, grinding his hips against her stomach until he adjusted himself, erection at her entrance, pushing in, hilting to maximum depth. She felt so warm, so tight that he knew he wouldn’t last long, so he prolonged it by slowing his movements, one hand massaging her breast, very slowly teasing her, in and out.
When he increased his speed, heat prickled along him, building up in the erection, until it felt like molten pleasure bursting out of him. He tensed above her, and she reached for herself to climax once more with a few light strokes of delicate fingers.
Boneless, he extracted himself from her, removing the condom and tossing it into the nearest trash can.
“Wow,” she breathed, unable to say anything else for the moment.
“Wow,” he agreed, fingers flicking through her damp, red hair.
They didn’t say anything else for a while. They let their bodies do the talking.
Chapter Nine – Morgana
Auction day loomed. Rosen Grieves had run over all the points with Morgana, making sure she kept her cover at all times, and confirming that if multiple valuable remains were found at the auction, she would call it in and get the police to bust up. If it was just one or two, they would buy the remains instead, and keep the place registered as a source of interest if they wanted to track down criminals.
Easier, after all, to keep a place running and bag the criminals by tracking them from it, than razing the venue and ruining the chances of cracking down on future major offenders. Personally, Morgana thought they should just stamp it out completely, but the city wanted to use it to sieve out the kind of criminals that made the front-page news, leaving the rest to muddle together.
“That’s corrupt as hell,” Morgana said to Rosen, who merely smiled in response. “Don’t you want to stamp it out?”
“When you know where the darkness is, it becomes easier to control,” Rosen replied simply. “You can’t stop people falling into it. There are always going to be those who lean toward the criminal side of life. But we’ve managed to catch some notorious offenders from sites we’re familiar with. This won’t be a problem, will it?”
“It… won’t,” Morgana said, thinking once more of the money they were planning to pay her. Thinking of the hefty insurance she’d give if a death occurred while undercover or if the cover was blown. And of Theon, big, strong, dependable Theon, who would do everything in his power to protect her and bludgeon anyone who dared threaten her. Though if it came to matters of the soul, he would be just as lonely as she was. “Have you managed to research anything about Beverly Heath and her type of soul yet?”
“No,” Rosen replied, eyes scrunching up in contemplation. “Though I’ve been asking around. My sister, Talia—she’s plunging into the research. She thinks she’s read a reference before, but it’s not exactly a simple Google search. Fingers crossed we’ll find something soon.”
Slight disappointment settled inside, but it seemed everyone was mystified by Beverly.
Everyone but Regal, who had mentioned one of his previous champion fighters wielding a similar spirit, losing in a one-versus-three, long since retired. If that person’s alive, maybe I could ask to speak to them, she thought. Though that probably meant getting more buddy-buddy with Regal, and she didn’t see that haughty figure becoming friendly with anyone.
After that visit, Morgana was left in Theon’s company, and he wasted no time in snaking an arm over her shoulders and bringing her close to his body. She received a light, affectionate kiss on the head, an aggressive rub of his knuckles into her arm. The memories of before trickled into her with warm satisfaction. If they could have more time together… “We’ll be fine. Don’t you worry.”
She allowed the contact, and reached to kiss him on the corner of his mouth, her brain already inflaming in desire, skin beginning to flush, though she swallowed down the urge enough to extricate herself from his arms and say, “I hope so. Still feels like being thrown in the deep end. I’m no toughened criminal. I’m a complete wuss who barely knows how to tie her own shoelaces.”
Theon flexed his impressive biceps slightly, and for a moment, she imagined his iron-gray bear standing on two feet, dominating the area, before her thoughts then slid to Iretha One-Eye, pulsing such malevolence, such hatred that it followed her even into her dreams, when she should be far away from such a thing.
She noted now that Theon had been with her in such an intimate way, he no longer held back in his physical affection, finding more opportunities to touch her, to smile at her with unrestrained expressions, and to always examine her as if she were the most beautiful thing on the planet. It was strange to Morgana. She never expected to develop so much affection with a bodyguard, and she knew it would probably be a mistake. If anything was to happen between them, it should have happened after the contract was over. Not while they still needed to go into the lion’s den.
The auction would be easy, Morgana thought. Barring any complications, because there was always room for complications. It was the deadring after that filled her with a certain sense of dread. Because she felt sure that Regal was planning something. If she could somehow refuse…
Maybe she could.
They slunk back to the suite, enjoying the privacy of each other, giving in to baser instincts, borne out of the press of time and the overwhelming need for closeness. A part of Morgana’s brain wanted to scream that she was making a mistake, while the other part just wanted to shut down and live out the bliss. Hard to keep things professional when experiencing true, personal delight that reached right down to the soul. In sharing another person’s space, body, heartbeat. To know which parts of her experienced pleasure, and to figure out which parts took Theon’s breath away. There were supposed to be roles in this whole mess, like one person more submissive, the other dominant, but Morgana had no idea if any of that applied to her in that moment.
Sometimes she took the reins, other times she was the one receiving everything. And one time, the moment of pleasure came so intensely that she blacked out for a moment, coming to with Theon wearing a shit-eating grin, clearly pleased at his prowess.
“You’re too good at this,” Morgana panted as she lay on the bed, hair sticky, sweat on display all over her skin, taking deep, big breaths as she slowly came down from her high. He lay at her side, just taking the time to prowl his eyes over her body in an almost possessive way before his attention snapped back to her. “I feel like a complete amateur.”
“Even if you are, everyone comes,” he said, emphasizing that word to groanworthy effect, “with experience. People don’t just magically become good. Some people can take years to figure out what it is they need in this situation.”
“And you… you’ve had a while to figure out how to work a woman, I suppose?”
“Yes and no. Everyone’s different. They like different things, they respond to different stimulation. Everything with you is a new experience,” he said, eyes alight at the chance to explain, one hand resting on her stomach. “The best way to do that is to pay attention to one another. If I recall, you were doing a lot of that figuring out for me, too.”
She blushed slightly, hiding behind her red hair. “Yeah, I suppose so. I mean, I was just doing what all guys seem to like. With your dick and all. But it’s more than just… whatever with that.”
“It is. We can jerk off any time we want,” he said. “Sometimes it helps us, too, when there’s a lot of tension building up. But the experience pales compared to fully embracing someone in the act. They offer something that nothing alone can do.”
She continued to breathe in his earthy scent, swimming in tired bliss, happy to have other things to think about. Made a change from all the recent stress she’d endured. Though at least she wasn’t being harassed in the streets, because people didn’t recognize her, and she didn’t exactly walk around parading corpses for anyone to see and then judge.
Going to the auction the next day sent her stomach into knots the closer she approached the designated auction site. It was located in a barn within a ranch, a strangely empty ranch at that, with only a few chickens pecking at the wet earth when the amount of acres available should have been enough for a full operation of animals.
It seemed this Regal had a lot of money to throw around. She wondered just how much he made from all this, how many underground businesses he was running at the same time.
He wasn’t the only kingpin here, though. There seemed to be a group of them huddled together in the barn, each dressed in expensive clothes, from glittering dresses to form-fitting Armani suits. You could practically smell the wealth emanating from them as they stood on the polished wooden floor. Everything about the barn was immaculate, resembling more the interior of a church than a rundown, haystack-piled room with rats and cats. There was even a stage, where the bodies and bones would be on display and snapped up by buyers, who had rows upon rows of chairs to sit upon. Morgana wanted to speak to Regal, but there seemed to be no way to invite herself, no way to get past the glowering guards and talk to him.
