Prince of Air and Darkness

by Jenna Black

  By some miracle, he’d managed to get his guilt at least partially under control by the time Kiera rang the doorbell promptly at seven o’clock. Carrying out his mother’s plans was the lesser of two evils, and though he loathed the necessity, he told himself he was resigned to it.

  He put on a practiced smile as he swung the door open. And had trouble believing it was Kiera who stood on the doorstep before him.

  She’d done something to tame the frizz of her hair, and she’d pulled it away from her face to reveal the elegant line of her cheekbones. Her skirt clung alluringly to her hips, showing off the curves she usually hid with her shapeless wardrobe. She smiled at him tentatively, and he had the feeling she was self-conscious in this sexy outfit.

  “You look stunning,” he told her, and was rewarded by a broadening of her smile.

  “Thanks. I hope I didn’t overdress for the occasion.” She plucked nervously at her silk blouse.

  The idea that she’d dispensed with her usual comfy, casual outfits to please him sent his blood rushing south. Not that she needed the sexy clothes to do that to him. When he’d first seen her, he’d sneered a bit at her lack of fashion sense, but now he found he rather liked the lack of artifice it signaled. Hunter never did anything without contemplating what others would think—he couldn’t have survived the Unseelie Court if he weren’t constantly aware of how others perceived him—but Kiera dressed only to please herself, and that very lack of vanity was surprisingly appealing.

  “Not at all,” he assured her, leading her to the dining alcove.

  He had set the stage with consummate skill. The small round table was draped with a white tablecloth, adorned with delicate china plates and a pair of crystal candlesticks. Hunter pulled back one of the chairs, and Kiera obediently sat. She breathed deeply.

  “It smells wonderful in here,” she said.

  “Well, let me serve the first course, then.” He hurried to the kitchen, where he had two salad plates chilling in the refrigerator. When he returned to the table, Kiera was running her fingers idly over the sterling silverware that framed her plate. She smiled when he laid the salad plate in front of her, but he could see at once that she was speculating.

  “The silver belonged to my grandmother,” he said, making it up as he went along. “She left it to me when she died.” The lie tripped off his tongue easily enough, but it evoked another twinge of guilt and regret. He wished he could just shove all the lies aside and tell Kiera the truth. Of course, then she would run screaming from the room.

  Kiera smiled at him as she picked up the salad fork. “And what about the china? Or is that just something your typical bachelor keeps around the house?”

  He couldn’t stomach another lie, so he went with deflection instead. “Am I a typical bachelor?” he asked with a grin.

  She rolled her eyes. “Definitely not!”

  “So, am I allowed to have china?”

  “I never said you weren’t allowed to have china.”

  “No, but you implied it was strange for a bachelor to have it.”

  “It is. But then, you don’t dress like your typical bachelor, nor do you decorate like one.” Here she encompassed his entire apartment with a sweep of her hand. “I mean, you even cook!”

  He laughed. “I hate to shatter your illusions. I’ve got plenty of eccentricities, but cooking isn’t one of them. I worked with a caterer to arrange this meal, I’m afraid.” He rested his elbows on the table and gave her a tragic look. “Have I just ruined everything by confessing the truth?”

  The look in her eye softened. “Not at all.”

  He forced another smile, even as his stomach churned with the bitterness of his deception. God, how he hated this. And yet, no matter how much he hated it, his blood was stirring in all the right ways. He gazed at the curls that cascaded down Kiera’s neck, at the warm hazel eyes no longer shadowed by her hair, at the deeply enticing V of her blouse; and desire seized him by the throat. Had he really declared this woman homely? How could he have been so blind?

  The meal passed in surprising quiet. Hunter served each dish with a flourish, pairing each course with the perfect wine. Kiera told him how wonderful everything tasted, but he noticed how careful she was with the wine, never drinking enough to relax her inhibitions. She was likely the most cautious female he’d ever met.

  Occasionally, they managed a little small talk, but the sexual tension in the air was like a palpable force, killing each conversation before it got rolling. He thought they each did an admirable job of eating, considering they both were so supremely focused on what would happen after dinner.

  Finally, it was time for dessert, and Hunter produced the plate of petit-fours with a flourish, determined to break through her restraint.

  “I couldn’t eat another bite,” Kiera protested.

  Hunter pulled his chair over so that it was only inches from hers. He saw the pulse leap in her throat as he leaned into her space and looked into her eyes. “Are you sure?” he murmured, giving her his most seductive smile.

  Without looking, he reached for the plate and picked up one of the little pastries. It was square, iced with chocolate and adorned with a single raspberry. He raised the petit-four to his mouth, his eyes never leaving Kiera’s, then slowly bit it in half. Kiera’s lips quivered faintly when he licked a stray dollop of icing from the corner of his mouth. Then, he held the other half of the petit-four to her lips. She hesitated only briefly before opening her mouth. He laid the petit-four directly on her tongue, lingering long enough to feel the faint brush of her lips as she closed her mouth.

  Hunter stared at her mouth as she chewed, watched hungrily as her tongue darted out in search of any icing that remained on her lips. When she’d swallowed, he raised his hand between them, displaying the icing that remained on his thumb and index finger. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and slowly sucked the icing off, all the while watching her face as arousal flushed her cheeks. When he put his index finger to her lips, she opened immediately to take it in, her eyes sliding closed as she sucked.

  Hunter moaned as he instantly swelled and hardened. Her tongue rasped over his finger long after the last trace of icing had disappeared. He bore it as long as he could, then reluctantly withdrew his finger. Kiera’s lips looked unbearably lush, and he longed to taste them.

  He picked another petit-four at random and found himself in possession of a breast-shaped delicacy with a chocolate nipple at its apex. He ran his tongue over the chocolate and watched Kiera’s lips quiver at the sight. He put the petit-four halfway into his mouth, and then leaned forward. Kiera’s brief look of puzzlement faded when he touched the petit-four to her lips. She opened her mouth, and he pressed his lips to hers, biting the pastry neatly in half. She let out a soft moan of pleasure as she savored her half.

  Hunter did not rest on his laurels, instead reaching out to unbutton her blouse. Her breath hissed in sharply, but she made no protest.

  When her blouse was open to the waist, he picked another petit-four from the plate, using his hands to pull it in two. Kiera watched him with a look of mingled curiosity and desire. He flashed her a wolfish grin as he popped one half into his mouth, then held the rest out to her again, one finger conspicuously resting in the creamy filling. When she took the pastry from his hand, he didn’t let her lips close around his finger. Instead he brushed his finger over the top of one breast, leaving a trail of sweet vanilla cream. Her skin shivered under his finger. His own pulse throbbing, he lowered his head to the top of her breast.

  The taste of her skin on his tongue was even more enticing than the cream, and he trailed kisses along the edges of her bra. When he raised his head, he saw that her eyes were closed, head thrown back in pleasure, and a smile curved his own lips. He popped the catch on her bra and thrilled at the audible hitch in her breath. He turned momentarily from the glory of her bare breasts to examine the plate of petit-fours, picking one he knew was filled with raspberry jam.

  When he turned back, he saw
that Kiera had opened her eyes and was watching him hungrily. He broke the petit-four in half, feeding one half to each of them while staining his fingers with jam. Then he rubbed those fingers over her nipples, urging them to pucker under his caress. She was leaning forward in her chair now, no sign of reluctance or uncertainty in her demeanor, her caution forgotten. When he set about licking the jam off those hardened peaks, she buried her hands in his hair and pressed herself closer, her breaths coming in sweet, short gasps.

  The blood drummed in Hunter’s ears as he tasted and suckled and listened to the soft sighs of pleasure. He was unbearably hard, his erection straining uncomfortably against his pants. And he’d only just begun. With a last delicious kiss on each nipple, he pulled away. Kiera reached for him, and he stood and swept her off the chair and into his arms. A startled cry escaped her lips, and she reflexively flung her arms around his neck. He grinned at her, a feral predator’s grin.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t drop you.”

  She was silent in his arms as he carried her to his bedroom, where before her arrival he’d put the lights on a dimmer switch. The room was dark and romantic, yet not so dark that he couldn’t feast his eyes when it pleased him. He set Kiera on the bed, leaning over her to capture her lips in a kiss. He drew her into a sitting position and slipped the blouse and bra off her shoulders, dropping the unnecessary garments on the floor beside the bed. Her breasts beckoned to him once more, and he feasted while she arched beneath him, her hands pulling at his shirt in an effort to get at his skin.

  Hungry as Hunter was, he released the delectable nipple he’d been sucking, sitting up so he could get his shirt off. The thought of having Kiera’s hands on his bare skin made his fingers shake, and he practically tore the buttons in his haste to get out of the shirt. Kiera laughed devilishly at his too-obvious need. He managed a reproving cluck of his tongue as he finally escaped the shirt.

  “I’m going to have to punish you for laughing at me,” he warned, and her eyes widened in mock alarm.

  “What did you have in mind?” she asked breathlessly.

  In answer, he reached for the waistband of the skirt that clung so enticingly to her curves, finding the zipper and then sliding it down. Kiera lifted her hips so he could pull the skirt off to reveal what lay beneath: a pair of black lace panties that almost sent him over the edge. The primal urge to tear off the remainder of her clothing and bury himself inside her was so strong that he couldn’t resist wrapping his hands in the waistband of her panties, meaning to jerk them down.

  Hunter swallowed hard, fighting to control himself. If he was going to seduce her so cold-bloodedly, the least he could do was make sure she thoroughly enjoyed the experience. His own pleasure was of secondary importance at best. Forcing himself to move more slowly, he lay on his side beside her, propping his head on one hand as the other explored. He began with the now-familiar territory of her breasts, teasing each nipple back to hardness, then sliding his fingers slowly down her center. She tensed as he dipped below her navel, but it was a yearning tension, and his hand continued its journey.

  When his fingers brushed over the lace of her panties, Kiera’s back arched, and she sucked in a loud, harsh breath. Her thighs parted, and Hunter forgot his intention to move slowly. His hand slid under the panties, stroking the hot, slick flesh in a slow, steady rhythm designed to arouse without satisfying. He would bring her to fruition, but not yet, not until she was begging for mercy, not until he had tasted every inch of her body. He watched with heavy-lidded eyes as she raised her hips, trying to hurry his fingers along. He refused to be rushed.

  That refusal lasted only a few heartbeats. The feel of her so hot and wet lit a greedy flame in his groin, and against his conscious desires, his fingers delved deeper, stroked harder. He wanted to feel her body rocked with the spasms of ecstasy, wanted to hear her voice cry out in pleasure, couldn’t bear to wait any longer to give her the gift he still denied himself.

  Kiera’s hips rose beneath his hand, and a long, drawn-out moan escaped her as her whole body arched, her hands balled into fists. A smile curved Hunter’s lips as he watched her face, read the pleasure there, realized he’d caused it without the slightest touch of glamour. For the first time in his life, he’d made a woman come just being himself, and he realized with a little shock that before he’d met Kiera, he hadn’t been sure that was possible.

  When she was fully sated, Hunter slid his hand reluctantly away, still gazing down at her sweat-dampened skin, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek tenderly.

  “Wow,” she whispered. “All that with just your hand.”

  He smiled at her pleasure, turning his head to kiss her palm. He’d pleasured women before, but never had he himself gotten such pleasure out of the act, never had he felt the glow of satisfaction that heated his chest at the moment. Never had he realized just how wonderful it felt to give, not just receive.

  Kiera’s hand slid down his face, brushing over the light smattering of hair on his chest, making a beeline for his belt. His cock ached with need, a desperate ache he could only satisfy by burying himself in her warmth and softness. His heart pounded insistently as she made short work of the buckle. He watched her face as she started on the button of his pants, saw the desire that still hovered in her eyes. She slid the zipper down and ran a single finger over his hardness.

  The hunger was more powerful now than he could remember it being in all his life. Every instinct in his body screamed for release, and the way Kiera looked at him made it obvious she wanted him inside her. He glanced toward the drawer with the sabotaged condoms, meaning to reach for them, but a chill shivered down his spine.

  Damn it, she trusted him. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t, wouldn’t look at him with that kind of openness, wouldn’t have let him touch her as he had. How could he betray her like this?

  You’ll do it because you’re a Prince of the Unseelie Court, and you have no choice, he told himself sternly. But somehow, he found himself wrenching away from the delicious touch of Kiera’s hand. Practically shaking with the conflict that raged within him, Hunter sat up and moved away from Kiera. She blinked and looked at him in confusion.

  Hunter wasn’t sure at first he’d be able to find his voice, though he knew he was going to have to come up with a reasonable explanation for his sudden withdrawal. Even though no reasonable explanation existed, save the unacceptable truth. Did he honestly think heroically refraining tonight would save him from having to do his duty? Or that he was somehow lessening his guilt by delaying the inevitable?

  “What’s wrong?” Kiera asked softly.

  He shuddered, trying to cool his desire while searching for a logical explanation for backing off now. Usually, lies came to him with practiced ease, but this time, he stumbled, his mind going blank.

  “Hunter?” She sounded worried.

  He let out a long, slow breath. “I forgot to buy condoms,” he mumbled. It was the only explanation he could think of. It would have sounded much more convincing if he could have thought of it sooner. His hesitation was bound to make anything sound like a lie.

  “What?”

  He cleared his throat, and his voice came out steadier and stronger. “I was so wrapped up in planning the romantic dinner that I forgot to buy condoms.” He glanced at her face from the corner of his eye. What he saw was not promising.

  There was a long silence as Kiera continued to stare at him skeptically and he continued to avert his eyes. There were too many lies between them, and he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze. Even though he knew his refusal was making his latest lie more suspect.

  Hunter shook his head. “You must think I’m the world’s worst idiot.” And she’d be right. Backing away now was pointless—and yet now that he’d started down that path, he had no choice but to continue.

  Another long silence. “I don’t know what to think,” she admitted eventually. “Do you
honestly expect me to believe a guy like you doesn’t have any condoms lying around his apartment?”

  He forced himself to look at her, trying to ignore the beautiful body he so badly wanted to possess. There was hurt in her eyes, but mostly there was confusion. She knew he was lying, but couldn’t figure out why. Not that he could blame her.

  “I hope you know that I want you quite badly,” he said. “I’m sorry I screwed up.”

  She cocked her head as she regarded him. Hunter was rarely at a loss for words, but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to make this better. She huffed out an exasperated breath.

  “You certainly are an enigma, Hunter Teague.” She slid off the bed and gathered her clothes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, miserable.

  She shook her head, throwing her clothes on carelessly, her eyes now hard and cold, her lips compressed with anger. The glimmer in her eyes suggested there was pain under her anger. So not only had Hunter just royally screwed up his mission, he’d also managed to hurt Kiera anyway. What a fine specimen of manhood he’d proven himself to be tonight.

  “I’ll see myself out,” she said.

  Hunter swallowed the protest that tried to escape him. Anything he said now would only make things worse.

  There was a dull ache in his chest as he watched Kiera storm out of his bedroom. The sound of his front door slamming filled him with remorse and despair.

  Chapter 9

  Dressed in a warm, ragged pair of flannel pajamas, Kiera sat on her bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. She’d showered off the makeup and hair gel, as well as the last sticky traces of chocolate and jam—and Hunter’s lingering scent.