by Jane Cousins
“Watch it.” Honestly, the man was rather ham fisted sometimes. She settled sideways, leaning forward awkwardly, her sweater still hoisted high. Taking a sip of her whiskey at least warmed her insides up.
“Take this off.”
Patricia barely had time to protest or put her glass down before Cullen was dragging her sweater off over her head. Heavens, she clutched the soft material to her chest, at least the roaring fire was beating back the chilly air.
Cullen frowned. The cut started just below one shoulder blade and sliced diagonally down to Patricia’s hip. It was still oozing blood in several places. “Where’s the antiseptic?”
She handed it over, giving up on trying to get a look at the damage over her bared shoulder, instead, picking up her glass and taking another swig. Funny, now that Cullen had drawn her attention to it the cut was sending slivers of pain radiating outwards.
Cullen’s insides were fired up. He hated seeing Trix hurt. His instincts jangled, demanding revenge and that he see to her comfort and safety at the same time. It was annoying the fierce protectiveness she brought out in him. He was lucky she was smart, capable and determined, rarely getting into such situations. Unless he was the one dragging her into them. “You did really great tonight, by the way.” He took a slug of whiskey before beginning to apply the antiseptic.
“Please. My stamina was questionable. My reflexes slow. My shields were sloppy.” Patricia sucked in a breath as the cool stinging antiseptic touched her skin.
“You were facing off against two powerful elemental witches. With projectiles and bolts of lightning slamming you from multiple angles. And you had me to factor into the equation. Give yourself a break.” He wiped his hands and studied the slope of Trix’s bare lower back. It was a shallow cut. It would probably sting for a day or two. But it wasn’t serious. He just didn’t like the thought of her getting hurt on his watch… again.
Silence stretched between them, nothing but the pop and crackle of the fire. Suddenly Patricia was very aware that she was all but half naked. The least she could do was cover up. Maybe stop feeling so awkward and exposed.
“Wait. Let the antiseptic dry first.”
“Of course.” Turning on the sofa Patricia repositioned the sweater she was holding to her chest, ensuring it covered her bra. Sipping her whiskey she looked at Cullen, noting his attention was on the fire in the grate. See, no cause to get all maidenly virtuous, he wasn’t leering her way, or showing any interest in getting a closer look at her lacy bra.
Cullen gulped down some whisky. Don’t look at Trix. Certainly don’t stare at those bared shoulders. Don’t imagine her dropping the sweater, moving into his arms. Damn… think of something else. Work. It had never failed him before. “I need to touch base with Elijah in person. And you should probably be heading back to the Sanctuary.”
“About that. We have a problem. When Gwynne bought the ceiling down in the Transportal set up at the school, it created some kind of shockwave that travelled with us. I’m not sure how much you remember? But we barely made it out of the Transportal this end, before it hit us. That’s when you were knocked out. And well, long story short, the door frame is buckled. And if it won’t close, we can’t use it.”
“Okay.” Cullen frowned, picking up his phone. Perhaps he could work from here. Damn, the broken screen flickered, the light dimming and flashing. He tapped the screen but it no longer responded. Shit. They were stuck here. He might be able to fix the buckled door, but not without light. Or tools. And with the sleet storm outside, he didn’t like the idea of stumbling around the multitude of outhouses looking for the right equipment in the pitch dark.
At least they had plenty of firewood. “Then I suppose there’s no reason why I can’t have another drink.” He picked up the bottle and re-filled both their glasses. Sinking back onto the sofa. Making sure to keep his focus fixed on the fire, damning his Archer skills suddenly. Every instinct he had was attuned to Trix. Her scent; citrus, passion flower and Tahitian vanilla. The soft, barely detectable sound of her breathing. The knowledge that only ten point seven inches separated them on the velvet sofa firing his nerve endings.
Reduced now to six point three as she turned slightly, pulling one leg up, keeping her back straight, trying to get comfortable without leaning back. “What will you do with Mara when you catch her?”
“When she was just a traitor to MI12 I had intended to expose her activities and present the evidence to the appropriate authorities and hand her over. But with her witchy powers in the mix, I’ve asked Elijah for help in finding some means of keeping her contained.”
“What do you think she meant back there? About you knowing who she was? And how did she know about you being an Archer, and your family?”
“Yeah, that’s been annoying me.”
“Could she be a pissed off long lost relative?”
“A witch? No. My family historically have a low tolerance for witches. Ever since Camelot. Over the years we’ve come across the occasional Hedge-witch. But they are mainly healers and considered harmless. I can’t even remember the last time a family member tousled with a witch of any real power.”
“Until now. And not just one witch. Four. Who can borrow each others powers and don’t seem to give a damn about that whole do-no-harm, triple karma whammy that Serena told you about.”
Cullen made the mistake of turning his head. Damn. The firelight played over Trix’s sable hair that spilled down to her shoulders. Glints of red dancing in the depths of all that rich, dark colour. Her hazel eyes reflected the flames, the copper flecks looking like fireflies dancing in their depths. Her cheeks were flushed with heat. And she looked sexy as hell, casually holding that soft purple sweater to her chest, revealing the dark purple straps of her bra. Looking like some sexy, winter time pin-up girl.
“What?”
Crap, he’d lost his train of thought. Only this woman could do that to him. His instincts humming, alert. That symphony that was Trix playing him. “Nothing. I just find it annoying to speculate with so little data. And no means to gather it here.” His mother had a wonderful command centre located in one of the sub-basements. But without power and heat down there, it was useless.
“I’m worried about the missing children. I don’t think we are looking at a trafficking ring here. Whatever those witches need them for, I don’t believe it can be for anything good.” She hoped she was wrong, looking to Cullen for reassurance.
“I think you might be right.”
She sipped some more whisky, needing the slight burn of it to dispel the cold chill that had just seized her. She appreciated that Cullen wasn’t sugar coating anything for her, but she had been hoping she was wrong. She didn’t want to think about the fate of those children for the moment. And there was no point in speculating where Mara and her Coven were. Not until Cullen could conduct some more research.
Hmmm, so what did that leave them with? The two of them, alone, in a large but surprisingly cosy library. Roaring fire. No power. It wasn’t like the man had anything else he could be doing right now… well, except her. Okay. Seduction time it was.
Crap, but now that it was a possibility, Patricia had no idea of how to go about it. Drop the sweater and make a move? Strike up a sexy double innuendo conversation that would leave no doubt what she wanted? Go the coy route? The shy route?
“We should have sex.” Oops, looks like she was going the bold route. Watching as Cullen suddenly choked on his whiskey in response. Coughing. Gasping. Not quite the reaction she had been hoping for.
“Excuse me.” He finally stopped spluttering, sure he must have misheard Trix.
“Sex. You and me. Here, now.”
Nope, he hadn’t misheard her. His body leapt in response, cock titanium hard. But his common sense sent up alarm bells.
This blunt invitation, it didn’t seem like Trix’s style. He wanted to say yes, yes, YES. But something was off. Where was the romance? Okay, he knew that sounded strange, coming from a man being offered sex. But h
e’d known from the first moment he’d laid eyes on Trix that he wanted her, on every conceivable level. It had been an instant, fiery, undeniable attraction… on his side at least.
His desire, attraction to her, that had done nothing but deepen over the past two years of being in Patricia’s sphere. Observing her. Noting how whip smart she was. Funny. Gorgeous. Loyal. Determined. Capable. And the most surprising thing he had learnt, which he kind of loved about her, was just how sneaky she could be.
Love. He wanted her to love him, just as much as he loved her. Somewhere along the way, he’d fallen in love with Patricia Bennett. Maybe from the very first, when she accused him of being looney-tunes and threatened to have him arrested.
And right now sex was on the table. It was a dream come true. But not his dream. Not like this. “Why?”
Okay, it wasn’t an outright no. But the man wasn’t looking like she’d offered him a fantastic opportunity. He looked wary as hell, like someone who had just been handed something that was ticking ominously. Goddess, why had she opened her mouth? Damn, and now they were going to have to talk. Way to really bring home a rejection.
Except Cullen couldn’t hide the heat shimmering in his eyes as they rested on her, burning with a molten promise that made her heart begin to race. He was resisting, for some reason. Perhaps it was his Archer nature. Too logical. Needing to understand all the angles, everyone’s motivations.
Just once she didn’t want to dwell on the ramifications, or the consequences of her actions. She wanted to seize the moment. Live a little. And she wanted to do it with Cullen. She thought about all the heroines she had read about over the years. Not that she was after the fantasy. Or the romance. But the one thing those women all had in common was at some point they had to step up. Take what they wanted.
Leaning over, Patricia placed her glass down on the coffee table, before reaching down to tug off first one boot, then the second. Socks next. Standing up she let the sweater fall to the floor. Giving Cullen a confident smile as she unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down.
“Wait.” Cullen couldn’t believe he could actually form a word.
Patricia ignored him, skimming the black velvet jeans down to the floor and kicking them away. Standing in nothing but a lacy dark purple bra and matching underwear, she had to give her Cousin Riya credit. When she’d gone shopping for the perfect outfit for this evening, Riya had smiled knowingly and handed over the very small bag containing nothing but lingerie. Fate Weavers, they could be so annoying bordering on the smug.
“Hold on. We need to think-”
“No, the last thing we need to do is think. Aren’t you tired of it? Factoring all the variables? Identifying the anomalies? Pinpointing motivations? Studying all the angles? Extrapolating all that data into pathways so you can identify what will happen tomorrow, next week, next year?”
Well, yeah. It would be nice to live in the moment. Grab this particular moment. But Cullen was a long-term planner. It was encoded in his genes. He was trying to work out why Trix was making this offer, now. And what it would mean for his campaign to win her if he gave in… because he so very much wanted to.
Patricia rolled her eyes heavenwards. “Cullen, stop. Stop thinking. Switch that big brain box of yours off. I don’t want to think about tomorrow.” When he would be off tracking rogue witches and she would return to her ordinary life. Channelling her favourite heroines she decided not to play fair. Stepping forward, she sat on his lap, facing him, her knees resting on the velvet sofa. “It’s a simple yes or no question. Do you want to fuck me, here, now?”
“Yes.” That perfect symphony that was Trix overloaded all his circuits. The feel of her. Her scent. Every curve, every angle. All so right. All so perfect. He might be an Archer, but beneath that he was a man who wanted this woman with every heartbeat. Reaching up, he fisted a handful of that silky sable mane and pulled her lips down onto his.
It was a hot kiss. Setting off fireworks low in Patricia’s body. His lips against hers, insistent, heated, yet still soft. It was a good starting point. But she wanted more. Her fingers reaching down to pluck at the hem of his cashmere jumper. She wanted to touch him, run her fingers over all that hard muscle and explore.
“Wait.” Cullen broke the kiss. Looking up at her, those jade green eyes had darkened with passion. “I need you to know-”
“No.” Patricia pressed her finger against his lips. Any promises he made now would be worthless. He was an honourable man to the core, very soon he would realise where his duty, where his loyalties lay. And it wasn’t in the Sanctuary, and it wasn’t with her. She just wanted this… him… now. With no thoughts of tomorrow or the next day that could never be.
“The question on the table was do you want to fuck, not do you want to talk. So Archer, you have a choice here. I can climb off your lap, get dressed and we can have a conversation. Or you can shut up, strip, and kiss me. Decide.”
She could afford to be bold as she could feel the evidence of his arousal pressed against her thigh. Patricia had Cullen right where she wanted him, if only there was an actual switch to turn off that big brain of his. Oh, of course. He might be a mighty Archer, but she was a Librarian. She always did her research.
Patricia reached up and unsnapped her bra.
Chapter Eighteen
Damn, the woman did not play fair. He loved that about Trix. He loved everything about her. Cullen was almost tempted to open his mouth and tell her, but his brain had pretty much turned to mush and complex sentences appeared to be unattainable right at this moment.
Lucky for him that the physical side of his nature kicked in, operating purely on the most basic setting. Patricia’s angles, the degree of her curves, the softness of her skin – it all soaked in, his primal instincts leaping to respond.
Her reaction to his touch. The little sounds that escaped those sensual lips as he tasted and caressed her. His talent had never been more important as it guided him, instinctively letting him know what she liked… what fired her passions even more.
Merciful Lady, Patricia did her best to bite back a moan. Cullen was a savant when it came to a woman’s body. Alternating kisses and the edge of his teeth along the sensitive side of her throat all but had her bare toes curling. His fingers seeming to know exactly where to touch her, trailing back and forth across the small of the back. Delicious tingles fired her blood, that champagne feeling was back in droves.
Hmm, then Cullen’s focus shifted to the hyper-sensitive skin of her lower tummy, resulting in fiery shivers racing up and down her spine. Damn, that felt so good.
Cullen moved with liquid grace. Divesting himself of his jumper and silk t-shirt in a motion so fluid that Patricia barely noted they had stopped kissing for a moment. Only his heated bare flesh pressing against her own letting her know what he had done. Likewise he seemed to doff his shoes and trousers almost like magic. No awkward fumbling or calling a halt to proceedings. The man was a god when it came to timing.
His lips trailed down her throat, cupping a breast, he suckled on a dark pink nipple for a moment before continuing downwards. Paying homage to skin as smooth as silk. His fingers sliding under the edges of Trix’s dark purple lace underwear, tugging on them, sliding them down those long toned legs of hers and dropping them to the floor. Damn, the sight of her pure alabaster skin against the blue velvet of the sofa, and that bold, challenging look in her eyes, it fired his libido into the stratosphere.
Patricia’s hands played over the tight hard muscles of Cullen’s back. Gliding down over his spine. Feeling the strength of him. It was heady stuff as he shuddered under her questing fingers as they sought out sensitive spots. Naturally she was curious, one hand gliding down over his stomach, over the silken waistband of his boxers to cup him through the material. Hmmm, nice, hard. Cullen surged forward against her touch.
“Two can play at that game.” Whispered husky words full of promise. His hand gliding up one of Trix’s long legs, dancing over her inner thigh, parting cu
rls as two fingers came to rest on her clit. Circling and teasing it.
Patricia moaned, shifting, parting her legs unconsciously, allowing him better access. Damn, the man was a master, thankfully she had enough common sense left to bite down on his shoulder, rather than shower the Archer with compliments. Oops, that would leave a mark. She kissed the reddened spot better unconsciously, feeling Cullen shudder as her lips met his skin. Hmmm, who knew the man liked it rough with a layer of sweet.
Patricia arched upwards as one of his questing fingers speared into her hot, wet core. Hmmm, even better when a second finger joined it. So good. Her moan swallowed by Cullen as his lips met hers. Breaking the kiss he leant over, pressing his lips to a small knick on her shoulder, then lower, another kiss, this time over a small cut marring the top of her left breast. Acknowledging each small injury.
Damn, so sweet, and yet as he continued to spear her core, so damn hot. Watching as he moved lower. His head dipping once more, this time his soft, heated lips, pressing against the large purple bruise high on her left thigh.
Damn, Cullen watched as Patricia writhed under his touch. So gorgeous. He couldn’t help himself, he had to taste her. Pushing her thighs wider apart and settling between them. Withdrawing his fingers, replacing them with his lips, his tongue. Revelling in the feel of her reaching down to grip his shoulders for support as her back arched off the sofa. She tasted better than he could have imagined, addictive heated honey. He flicked his tongue back and forth over her clit, loving the sound of his name falling from her gorgeous lips in a breathless moan.
He could listen to her say his name like that forever. Bringing back a finger to spear her core once more, working in concert with the flicking pressure he was applying to her clit with his tongue.
Oh Goddess. It was too much. Patricia writhed. Gripping Cullen’s shoulders even harder. Willing him not to stop, she was so very close, so very… the orgasm swept through her, a cascade of popping tingles igniting her blood. Panting. Cullen’s name falling once more from her lips in breathless gratitude.