She drew off him, pushing his cock up, and licked up the thick vein that ran up the underside of his shaft. Sucked his balls into her mouth, first one and then the other.
Pleasure roared along his nerves, so intense his thighs shook.
“Enough!” Kurt gasped, unable to take anymore. Before his body could talk him out of it, he reached down, caught her arms, and pulled her to her feet. Turning her so she faced the tiled rear wall, he stepped up behind her until his cock pressed up against her luscious little ass.
He filled his hands with her -- one hand cupping the lovely curve of a breast, the other slipping between her thighs.
Now it was her turn to moan. He and Stoli shared a tiger’s smile.
* * *
Genevieve quivered as Kurt began to tease her, soapy fingers milking one nipple as his other hand slid down to stroke her clit in swirling loops and figure eights. A forefinger slid into her pussy, already slick and swollen from his teasing. Each tiny caress sent another perfect pearl of delight sliding through her mind. Her need rose, hot and sweet.
She craved him. Craved the thick thrust of the cock she felt pressed against her ass. It felt so delicious, being surrounded by him, by his thick muscle and sheer size. By the hot tingle of his magic surging and swirling against hers.
She had to have him. “Kurt.” Her voice sounded guttural, more like his own animal growl. “Kurt, now.”
But he went on playing with her, teasing nipples and clit and cunt, stroking and squeezing. “I don’t think so.”
“I do. Now!” She rolled her ass back against his shaft, turning the motion into a teasing caress of her own.
Stoli made that rumbling sound, hot with anticipation. Gen knew how to break his self-control. She bent, bracing her palms against the tile wall, pushing backward, lifting her ass like a tigress demanding to be mounted.
The tiger growled in Kurt’s voice. He released her breasts, her sex, and grabbed her hips in one hand. A moment later she felt the press of his cock’s smooth head against her vaginal lips. He probed, found the opening. And thrust, hard, deep, ruthless. Filling her, pushing deep, deeper, sliding right to the balls in a storm of lush sensation. Both of them cried out.
“Genevieve!” He drew out and shoved in, the thrust deep and grinding and exactly what she needed. He slid a hand around, finding her clit again, stroking, circling, as he began to pump.
In and out and in, and God, it was so sweet, so blinding. Bodies and magic grinding together until sparks of sensation danced over her skin, and she could no longer tell mystical sensation from physical. And it didn’t matter, because it was all overwhelming, a psychic storm that shook her brain in her skull.
The climax went off between her thighs like a bomb, ripping a raw scream from her lips. Shaking, she collapsed against the wall, would have fallen if not for the grip of his big hands as he shafted her.
“Genevieve!” Kurt bellowed, the sound so amplified by his magic that it made her ears ring.
He stiffened, pulling her up off her feet as he came, bowing into her.
Stoli roared.
Kurt put her down on her feet again, leaning into her, pressing her against the shower wall. For a long moment all either of them could do was pant. She could feel him shake against her, and felt a certain satisfaction. At least she wasn’t the only one knocked off her axis.
“God,” he muttered. “That was…”
“Yeah.” Her voice rasped, and she had to stop to clear it. “That’s putting it mildly.” A smile curved her mouth. “Thanks.”
His powerful chest vibrated against hers in a chuckle. “Believe me, it’s mutual.”
And probably a very bad idea, the voice of common sense told her. She ignored it. Again.
* * *
Early the next morning, Jake headed off for his shift, telling Kurt not to get killed while he was gone. Soon the house filled with volunteers bearing covered dishes that filled the place with the scents of roast, fried chicken, assorted casseroles, and a bakery’s worth of desserts. All their way of demonstrating their support and sympathy.
Genevieve would have preferred to start work on casting the wards yet again. Kurt vetoed that, telling her he needed to tend to his cats and bury Stoli, and he wanted to make sure she was protected during the casting.
Given what had happened the day before, she couldn’t really protest.
After breakfast, Kurt, Gen, Dave, and the volunteers gathered on a hillside beside the man-made lake. It was a pretty, grassy spot, sheltered by oaks and maples ringed by azalea bushes, a favored location for picnics.
It was also the BFS cemetery. Stone pavers engraved with the cats’ names marked the graves, except for a few bronze markers that denoted the plots of Familiars.
Kurt had used a Bobcat skid-steer loader -- a small earthmover similar to a bulldozer -- to dig a grave for the tiger.
As Gen watched, he used the Bobcat’s bucket to lower the enormous cat into it. Her heart ached for him as she watched him work, his face set in lines more rigid than the pavers.
His volunteers showed all the grief he fought to hide. They cried without shame, some silently, others sobbing aloud.
Gen found herself wiping away her own tears.
“I know Stoli’s still alive in Kurt,” Karla Morgen told her, tears flowing down her cheeks. A graying, motherly woman, she served as the volunteer coordinator for BFS. “But we’ll never see him again.”
Gen could only nod. “I know what you mean.”
One at a time, volunteers came forward to talk about Stoli. All tigers could be unpredictable and aggressive, but Kurt’s Familiar had evidently had a goofy, affectionate streak.
Dave went last. “I’m gonna miss you, Tigger.” His voice sounded ragged.
Kurt stepped up to the side of the grave and opened his mouth to speak. Then he shook his head and got back in the Bobcat.
The low notes of “Taps” began to sound. Gen looked around, confused -- there was no sign of a musician or sound system.
Then her gaze fell on Dave, standing by the grave in his vest with his tail and whiskers drooping.
Oh.
As she watched Kurt push the pile of red soil over his Familiar, she felt a knot of hot rage gather in the center of her chest. Those bastards need to pay for this. For Stoli. For Fred. And most of all, for Kurt.
She was going to do everything she possibly could to make the terrorists pay for every drop of blood they’d shed.
When the grave was covered, Kurt parked the Bobcat and swung down off the little machine to join her. “Let’s go check on Parvati,” he said. He forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
She forced one of her own, aching. “Sure.”
* * *
The tigress looked so bright-eyed and healthy, Gen was cheered.
Even Kurt’s smile looked a little less forced. “Think she’s ready to go back to her enclosure?”
Genevieve closed her eyes and touched her aura to the cat’s. Parvati’s magical field was much brighter, and many of the red nodes that signified cancer had vanished. “I think we need to give her a little more time close to the sketch. A couple of days, maybe.”
He blew out a relieved breath. “Now if only the rest of us can get through this.” He took her hand in strong, warm fingers. “Want to help feed the cats?”
Chapter Thirteen
Turned out there was a reason for all the different T-shirt colors. They indicated the size cat you were qualified to feed. The eighty volunteers formed teams of five to feed the animals on their assigned routes.
“We have to train the hell out of people,” Kurt told Gen as the volunteers loaded big hand-pulled carts full of buckets and plastic containers of food. “First, feeding these animals can be dangerous, and if you don’t pay attention to what you’re doing, you can get seriously hurt. Second, feeding time is our best opportunity to observe the cats to see if any are injured or not eating properly.”
It was one of those bright sun
ny mornings, as the volunteers fanned out across the park, each wearing rubber gloves and carrying sticks for use in feeding especially finicky cats. They’d skewer chunks of meat, extend it through the enclosure fence, and let the beast nip the food off the rounded end.
Gen studied the enclosures with interest. A small square cage was attached to one end of each, just big enough for a cat to step inside. A big bowl of water was secured to one of the galvanized wire panels above a square cement pad. She gestured at one. “What are those little cages?”
“We call them lockouts. We feed the cats in them so we don’t end up with rotting meat scattered everywhere. The larger enclosures are constructed in two sections so we can close a cat in one half while we clean the other. That way we can make things safer for our volunteers, though they still have to be careful.”
Gen followed Kurt to the enclosure that housed one of the BFS tigers. The cat, whose name was Shiva, paced hungrily outside her lockout.
“Stay back,” Kurt warned Gen. “You don’t want to get too close. All these cats can move fast, and some of them have paws small enough to fit through the fencing.”
As she watched, Kurt loaded the square feeding stone with softball-sized chunks of something called mush -- ground meat that was a combination of intestines and organ meat mixed with vitamins. He added a quartered chicken and a hunk of beef for a total of fifteen pounds of protein.
Kurt stood up, grabbed the rope, and moved well back from the lockout. He pulled to raise the guillotine door.
With a roar that made Genevieve jump, Shiva exploded into the lockout and fell on the food. The tigress paused between ravenous bites to snarl up at them.
Gen found herself stepping back, eyes wide. “Damn.”
“Don’t be fooled by Stoli and Dave,” Kurt told her quietly as he picked up a clipboard and started moving around the lockout, watching the way Shiva moved and making notes. “Given the chance, these cats would kill us. None of us -- not even me -- can ever forget that. A moment’s inattention could be fatal.”
“And yet you and your father and your volunteers have dedicated yourselves to protecting them.”
“Well, yeah.” He shrugged. “We owe them.”
* * *
Kurt was finishing up his route when she got a text message. Gen excused herself to answer it.
“There is one piece of good news,” she said when she came back. “Sawyer just called. He spoke to the Charlotte FBI Special Agent in Charge this morning. The Feds have mobilized teams to the various scenes. We were right about those murders -- they were definitely human sacrifices, and they all had spells still active.”
Some of the tension left Kurt’s shoulders. “Once the FBI Arcanists start breaking those spells, the witch won’t be doing anything except nursing a headache.”
“It may not be that easy. The Feds are having trouble finding weak points they can exploit to destroy the spells. They’re trying to document the sigils so they can figure out what’s going on.”
Unfortunately, you couldn’t use a camera for that kind of documentation. An Arcanist had to look at the sigils and copy them precisely as Gen had.
Kurt grimaced. “They’d better get it figured out fast, or we’re all screwed.”
His immediate duties finished, they returned to the office, where Kurt learned the coroner had released Fred’s body to the mortuary. He started finalizing plans for the visitation and funeral, wrote his father’s obituary, sent it to the funeral home for publication, and posted it on the BFS website and Facebook page.
Genevieve spent the rest of the morning in meditation sessions designed to recharge her magical batteries. That went better than she expected, in part because they’d made love. She’d heard sex between Talents was supposed to be good for that, but she’d never experienced it herself until now.
Evidently they were compatible in more than one sense of the word.
When they sat down to lunch, Genevieve found herself studying the work and play of his biceps and muscular forearms. An image flashed through her mind, Kurt, water rolling across his skin and down his chest, the feel of his big hands on her breasts. Heat flashed over her, and she forced herself to apply herself to her meal.
Her cell rang. Gen scooped it out of a pocket, recognized the number, and answered with a smile. “Hey, Sawyer. Please tell me the Feds broke one of those spe…”
The sound of screaming cut her off. She froze, eyes flying wide. Kurt stiffened, staring at her in horror.
“Genevieve,” Sawyer shouted over the bedlam. “The fucking polar bear and the Arc sniper are killing people in the Faraday Square. We need you here now!”
“Shit,” Kurt snarled. Dave stuck his head around the kitchen door and stared, his ears flattened. The Ferals could probably hear Sawyer as clearly as she did with the phone to her ear.
“What happened?” Gen demanded.
“The damned bear just appeared in the park fifteen minutes ago and attacked a guy having lunch on a bench. Literally bit his head off. When a city cop tried to intervene, the Arcanist shot him.”
“They’ve set up another spell,” Genevieve breathed in sick horror. “They realized they were out of time and they’re trying to finish the spell now. I’ve got to break it!”
“Why in the hell do you think I’m calling you… Motherfucker! Bullet just whined past my head!”
“We’re on the way.” Genevieve sprang to her feet and sprinted for the door, Dave galloping ahead of her, Kurt at their heels.
The tiger skidded to a halt. “Where’s my safety vest?”
Kurt swore and dove into the closet to grab the orange vest Dave had worn to the press conference. They all banged out the front door without stopping to lock it.
“What car are you using?” Sawyer yelled over the phone as they clattered down the porch steps. “I’ll have a cop give you an escort. Damn it!” Gunfire sounded in the background.
“Tell him we’ll be taking one of the BFS SUVs,” Kurt snapped.
She repeated it.
“Let me get somebody on the way.” Sawyer hung up.
Kurt thumbed his key fob as they raced across the yard. The SUV’s back hatch popped open and Dave leaped in, making the truck rock on its wheels. Gen scrambled in on the passenger side as Kurt slid in, threw the vest to Dave, and started the engine. He backed up so fast, the tires squealed on the paved drive.
Dave cursed in the back. Gen glanced back to see he’d manifested arms and was struggling to fasten the vest.
The cell rang. Sawyer was already talking by the time Gen lifted it to her ear. “Nolan’s fighting the bear, and our SWAT team is exchanging fire with the shooter. The bitch is invisible, and we can’t see where to shoot. And that fucking bear is trying to tear Nolan apart. We got four civilians and two cops down that we can’t get to, and we’re still trying to get civilians out of the line of fire. Where are you?”
“Tell him we’ll be there in ten,” Kurt told her.
“We’re all on the way, including Dave. He’ll be able to pinpoint where the Arc is for you while Kurt reinforces Jake, and I try to break that spell.”
“Good. I’ll round up some body armor for you, or the bitch will shoot your ass.”
The line went dead. Genevieve stared down at the red END phone icon, feeling sick. As tough as last night’s magical battle had been, nobody had been shooting at her.
She just prayed she didn’t freak out and screw up. Entirely too many lives were riding on this -- and not just theirs. God knew how many people were going to die if she didn’t get that spell broken in time.
“You do realize this may be a trap for Genevieve,” Dave said from the back.
“Which is why you’re going to stay with her,” Kurt growled in a vibrating Stoli rumble. “If you can create a protective manifestation around her, it’ll give her more time to break that spell.” He flicked her a grim glance. “How close do you have to get?”
“Right up on it. The Arc would have added wards to her spell
to make it harder to break. The only reason I was able to do it so easily the last time is because she had no idea I’d get involved.” She clutched the door handle as they rounded a corner, then passed a sports car in a blur. “But I’m not the only one they’re after. She wants to sacrifice another Feral.”
“Sounds like she’s trying to use Jake. I just hope they don’t kill him before we get there and break that spell.” A muscle in his jaw rolled. “I don’t want to lose him too.”
“We’re not going to lose anyone,” Dave growled. “We’re going to kill those fuckers.”
Kurt drove through town as fast as he could and still maintain control. “Where in the hell is that cop?”
“Judging by the siren, coming up behind us,” Dave said.
Gen couldn’t hear a damn thing, but Kurt nodded. “Yeah, there he is.” He slowed fractionally.
A moment later, she finally heard the siren wailing closer. The deputy passed in a black and white blur.
Kurt floored it again as the cop took the lead on a wild route up and down side streets to bypass Laurelton PD roadblocks. Heart hammering, Genevieve braced herself as the SUV shot toward Faraday Square.
And tried not to wonder if they’d all be alive in an hour.
* * *
Kurt was distantly aware of faces staring at them wide-eyed, as news and police helicopters circled overhead and television cameras swung to track them. He ignored them all as he followed the cop down the side street that ran parallel to Faraday Square. What looked like every police car in the city was parked up and down the road, blue lights whirling. Tense cops in body armor strode along carrying assault rifles and shotguns.
He parked behind a line of cop cars, keyed the hatch open for Dave, and jumped out. Several of the cops turned and stared at the tiger in his orange DAVE vest. He ignored them and trotted after Gen and Kurt as they headed for the waiting deputy.
“The brass is this way,” the officer told them, his tone clipped, his face white and tense. He headed off down the brick walkway that led between the shops of the square.
A cluster of cops in body armor crouched in the shelter of the wall, several of them popping off measured shots around the corner.
Arcane Kiss (Talents Book 1) Page 17