Embodied
Page 11
Why should he have to prove himself? “I don’t know what I’m doing. I haven’t since I got bitten. I don’t know if I can be what She wants.”
“When you know, we’re here to help.” Oskar hung up.
Peyton leaned back. “Fuck.”
He stared at the paperwork on his desk, then glanced at the time. Fuck this shit. He was going home, having a shower, and then he’d pay Alexis a visit.
Finding Alexis-Freya wasn’t hard. When Peyton thought of her there was a pull, so he’d opened up a map and done a really simple location spell—the kind that even the most unskilled witch could manage with a needle and thread and a map.
At the location pinpointed was a nightclub, so that’s where he got a taxi to. He paid the driver and studied the line to get in. Then he looked at his clothes, jeans and a nice shirt, and decided he was about ten years too old and several hundred dollars underdressed. This was not his scene; it had never been his go-to for a weekend activity.
He eyed the line again, then decided to go to the door and offer a hefty wad of cash to get in faster. Money opened doors that even magic struggled with. Before he even reached the doorman, he smelled it. Magic and flowers. If Alexis-Freya wasn’t inside, then it was some other magic worker—and most of the ones who lived in New York would never operate so brazenly.
The bouncer stared at him. He was no taller, but his muscles were big enough that it looked like he’d stuffed large rocks up the arms of his shirt.
The hellhound growled, eager for a fight. Peyton forced a smile and hoped it didn’t look like a snarl. Already the hound was closer to the surface. His grip was slipping after only hours. He’d have to worry about that later. “What’s the price to get in?”
“Depends on your name.”
“Peyton Kilpatrick.”
The bouncer scanned his list then stepped aside. “Go in.”
That was too easy. His skin prickled as he entered the club. Music pulsed, more of a feeling than a sound in the entrance. Once he went through the doors it would be an all-out assault. What the hell was Alexis-Freya doing here?
He pushed through the heavy doors, bracing for the impact of the beat. It rattled his ribs and shook his lungs. In the semi-darkness people danced, grinding up against each other. It was only as his eyes adjusted and he followed a sweep of the light that he realized the crowd wasn’t just dancing. Clothes littered the floor and the lights illuminated sweaty skin.
Freya had found a place to hold her rite.
He glanced around, trying to get his bearings and locate Alexis.
This couldn’t be happening in the middle of New York.
But it was.
And in the center was Alexis-Freya, Her hands in the air, standing on goddess only knew what. She looked divine in a dress that was possibly more sparkles than cloth, like She was wearing only starlight. And She was completely lost in the music and the orgiastic rite.
He should’ve known Freya would do something like this. It was what She did best and how She raised power. The only safety was that She couldn’t compel anyone, only unleash the inhibitions so they could revel in Her glory.
This had to end before it spilled onto the streets and people realized that something was going on, or other witches from other cities came to investigate. Witch hunts had happened for less. Not all covens were as careful with humans as his, and this situation was ripe for abuse.
Peyton drew in a breath and started cutting through the crowd. There were people on the floor in twos and threes and messy piles of moaning. Alexis-Freya opened Her eyes and stared at him. She beckoned to him the way She had before, and for a moment he was helpless but to obey because he wanted to go to Her. No. He stopped still. He could resist. He had free will. He had to make sure every step he took was his alone to keep control.
He approached Her more cautiously, aware of who She was this time and what She wanted from him. To get his magic back and leash the hound, all he had to do was kneel at Her feet and swear to Her and She’d welcome him. Could the Morrigu be replaced as easily as that?
It was Alexis he wanted, not Freya. And he didn’t want access to magic because he wanted to worship Her, but because he needed it, which was the wrong reason to bind oneself to any deity.
Her hips swayed and Her body writhed. She was mesmerizing, but Alexis always had been. Freya had peeled back the veil Alexis hid behind. When he reached Her he stared up; She stood on a stool that would’ve toppled under a mortal. Now he was at Her feet he didn’t know what to do.
Freya didn’t want his service as a witch.
She wanted him to surrender, give in to desire so She could feed on him, thus prolonging Her use of Alexis’ body. He didn’t want that, and he wasn’t sure Alexis did either. But at the moment, keeping Alexis alive was all he could do. Like a warrior, he accepted that fate and the risk that came with it. A few years off the end of his life—would he even notice? Not at first. But if Freya took a decade or more… It was still a price he’d pay.
He’d arrived at the battle field and wouldn’t walk away now, even though the Morrigu wasn’t standing behind the way She once had.
“You have quite a gathering.” He wanted to touch Her, run his hands up Her legs as She danced above him, but didn’t. Not yet.
“Are you here to join in or to stop me? It would be a shame to smite you.” She smiled at him as She smoothed Her hands over Her hips.
Peyton drew in a breath that was laced with sex and sweat and summer. He lifted one hand to Her. “I am here for you, Freya. I will join your rite.”
Her purr of satisfaction was the rumble of the music. Her fingers closed around his, Her touch scorching hot as Alexis’ soul burned. Then She was jumping off the stool as gracefully as a cat. She pressed against him, one arm looped around his neck. “We’ll have so much fun together.”
He doubted that.
He wanted to get out of here, but Alexis-Freya wanted to dance. So he obliged, proving that he would obey. For the moment. There were ways to cast entities out, but if Alexis wanted Freya then it would be impossible. He needed to speak to Alexis.
Maybe if they spent the night together he’d be able to do that, but he was sure Freya would take the last of his magic, leaving him a hellhound at Her command. The Morrigu’s warning flashed through his mind, echoing Oskar’s claim that he’d never had his faith challenged.
Alexis-Freya kissed him, Her mouth hot and Her kisses sharp and hungry. Magic raked his skin as Her fingernails pressed into the back of his neck. Hip to hip, She ground against him and he hardened. This was still Alexis’ body and he’d wanted her for so long. She’d clearly wanted him more…or had not realized the danger of getting so close to a goddess.
She purred in his ear. “This party is starting to wind up.”
“We should go before they fully come to their senses.” What a mess that was going to be. Just because people wanted something didn’t mean they were ever going to act on it. Tonight they had and there would be fallout and broken hearts and lives.
He tried to remember why not dating Alexis was a good idea. If he had given in, none of this would’ve happened. On the other hand, he’d be hiding what he was, and three days out of every month that was not easy. He blinked, not sure if his thoughts of giving in were his or Hers. Surrendering to desire was very much Freya’s thing. Fighting was the Morrigu’s, and he’d always been Hers.
Whose was he now?
“Go where?” Her nails traced his cheek before She took another kiss that shortened his breath as well as his life.
He let Her take. “Did you not gather enough energy from your orgy?”
“I watched. Alexis didn’t want to play. She only wants you. She resisted my desire.”
Peyton couldn’t stop the smile from forming. That meant Alexis was still strong enough to exert her own will and not be consumed. “She can have me. My place isn’t far.”
“Here.” She grasped his hand and started drawing him through the crowd. Some were still dancing, some
were still screwing, but others were looking confused.
“Here?” But his words were lost in the music.
People moved aside for Alexis-Freya even if they didn’t know what She was—She had a presence. Men watched, unable to look away. Peyton could feel their hunger and a growl lodged in his throat. The hound’s aggression almost made him stumble over abandoned shoes. It wasn’t the full moon anymore; there should be no growling or shifting. He should be safe for a little longer, until he ran out of magic completely. The beast prowled but made no attempt to break free.
She pulled Peyton out of the crowd and down a corridor. The thrill of sneaking out the back raced through him, squeezing his heart and making his blood rush. He shouldn’t be liking this, but he was. There was a primal need to it, a power that sizzled nerves and made each breath full to bursting. He’d only glimpsed that power with the Morrigu. This was different—he was a follower, not a warrior—so he could revel in the magic instead of being in control.
Alexis-Freya moved with confidence. She owned the club and everyone in it. For the moment She probably did as everyone had a weakness that they wanted to indulge in. She opened up a door. A man was behind the desk, watching the security footage with his dick in his hand. His fist didn’t stop pumping as he stared at them.
“I’m sure you’ll have more fun out there. I’ll watch the screens for you.”
The suggestion was all the man needed. He leapt from his seat, not bothering to tuck his dick away, and disappeared down the corridor looking for a willing partner. Alexis-Freya shut the door and locked it. Peyton should feel bad for the man, someone would ask him what had happened and why he’d done nothing and the man would have no answer.
No one would.
Alexis-Freya ran Her fingers over the screens. Static formed. “That’s better, no distractions.” As She stalked toward him he’d never felt more like prey in his life. That feeling didn’t quell the hunger in his blood. She pressed him up against the door. “Show me what Alexis has been waiting for.”
“You already know.”
She cupped his jaw. “Was that the best you can do? Perhaps you would serve me better as a hellhound.”
He grabbed Her hand. “No.” He kissed the inside of Her wrist.
There might be a goddess doing the driving, but Alexis was still in there and he had to focus on her. He had to find a way to reach the woman beneath the goddess.
Alexis-Freya’s fingers undid his shirt and tossed it on the table. Her hands slithered down his chest to his belt and She started working it open. He let Her, but dropped to his knees before She could undo his jeans. The split in her dress revealed the front of Her thigh so he kissed the bare skin. She tasted too much like nectar. Like a goddess, not a human.
If he hadn’t been so stubborn about not being like his father… Yet he was just like him: doing the bare minimum of magic and lusting after someone he shouldn’t. Was the Morrigu right and his blood line was corrupted?
If the Morrigu truly believed that, She would’ve cut his father off, cut him off.
She tugged Her dress aside as he kissed higher, the scent of Her arousal filling his lungs. His tongue traced the crease of Her thigh. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, but under a dress that sheer and close fitting any underwear would’ve been visible.
Her fingers threaded into his hair as he tongued the lips of Her pussy. She rocked Her hips and he clasped Her thighs to keep her close as he tasted everything She had to offer. Her nails pressed into his scalp as She came, a moan leaving Her lips. He pressed his tongue deeper into Her, wanting to bury himself in Her heat.
He stood, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, then spun Her to face the desk and the static hum of the screens. When he hiked up the dress, She helped, gathering the fabric in one hand. Her ass curved like a peach; the farther She leaned forward the more inviting it became. He finished unbuttoning himself and thrust into Her. Her pussy was hot and wet and She rocked back, meeting each thrust.
“Let go for me, Peyton. Show me what you can be.”
There it was, the temptation he never gave into. Today he unraveled. Lost in the moment. His precious self-control evaporated like tequila in the sun.
His skin prickled and his fingernails lengthened and hooked. He watched his hands change in horror but couldn’t stop it. Part of him didn’t want to. He knew the monster that lurked within. The Morrigu had shown him what he needed to be. If this was how he saved Alexis, so be it.
As the part-hellhound, part-human monster, he snarled. Lust drove him to fuck Her harder than he should.
“Yes.” Alexis-Freya tossed Her head back.
With a final grunt he came and She tightened around him, not bothering to bite back on a moan that should’ve drawn attention. There was a pulling in his chest as She took life from him, and he let Her. That was the deal. As soon as She was done with him, he stepped back, his hands clawed and his chest too furred to be his. His breathing sounded wrong…too much like panting. He touched his face, but it was less of a face and more of a muzzle with a cold wet nose.
His claws raked his face as if he could tear away his skin like a mask. He hadn’t realized the change would be physical, not just magical. He gasped as panic raced through him. This was the monster he’d always feared. Not man nor hellhound, but something stuck between the two. He tried to shake away the shift, but it wasn’t that easy. He was stuck.
A whimper escaped his muzzle that was more hound than human.
Alexis-Freya cupped his face. “Do you feel the power coursing through you? Even without your goddess, the magic of the hellhound is in your blood. Now it runs free instead of being caged.” Her eyes glittered. “I don’t need you as a witch…but like this, you can serve me well. So much life.” Her tongue traced Her lower lip, leaving no doubt about the kind of service that would require.
He suppressed the shudder. Seeing the naked hunger in Her cat eyes didn’t warm him. It terrified him. She’d hold onto flesh for as long as possible, killing Alexis and him in the process. He’d forgotten how destructive gods could be when allowed to play dress up in human skin.
“I can’t stay like this.” The words were hard to form, his tongue alien in his muzzle. He didn’t want to remain like this. Even though both goddesses seemed to want that from him. If he looked like this all the time, not even his coven could protect him from human hunters.
Alexis-Freya smirked as She watched him struggle. She didn’t care about anything but Her own pleasure.
As he stood there trying to find a way to shed this shift, he felt the magic of the hellhound. It was different to when he reached for the Morrigu’s power. Where Hers was smooth like polished steel, the hellhound was raw and elemental. And he was too panicked to wield it. He wanted to reach for the Morrigu, but there was nothing but the last whips of Her grace.
He had to do this on his own. Freya’s bright green gaze held him in place as She reveled in his struggle. He would not fail.
The hound didn’t want to slide away, but Peyton didn’t try to chain or cage it the way he once had. Instead he offered it space in his head. A place where it wasn’t far from his thoughts. A place near where he’d always been able to find the Morrigu.
As he calmed his heart, the shift melted away: the excess hair dropped off his skin and his muzzle and teeth shrank.
Alexis-Freya stepped back, the smugness gone from Her features for a second before it was masked. “You are a strong one.”
He hadn’t realized how strong. Maybe he could work with the hellhound if he stopped fearing the changes.
What was Alexis thinking trapped inside her own body? Was she horrified at the monster he’d become? There was no way to know unless he bypassed Freya. He could do that, but not while She was awake.
He did up his pants and picked up his shirt without looking at the goddess. “We should leave before everyone here realizes they lived their dreams and they clash with their reality. Let’s get a cab to my place, it’s closer.”
He understood the lure. But he also knew the danger. One did not mess with the power of the gods and walk away without scars. Even witches, who were built to channel that power, were never left unchanged.
He glanced at his hands. His nails were a little long but they were flat and human. He had been changed by magic, but he’d fought it for years instead of accepting it the way the Morrigu had wanted him to. Now he’d embraced the hellhound, would the Morrigu take him back or was his affair with Freya too damning?
Alexis-Freya hooked Her arm through his. “Lead the way. The fun here is over.”
Chapter 11
With Alexis-Freya finally resting, Peyton relaxed. She needed to rest or Alexis’ body would wear out faster. Fuck, he was going to wear out if She kept using Her magic on him. Was She taking months or years? He glanced at his watch: three in the morning. He should be sleeping too. He’d desperately wanted to close his eyes and curl against Her and pretend that everything was how it should be.
But nothing was and Alexis was too hot to cuddle.
And he was the monster again. Instead of trying to shake it off as soon as he was done, he was trying to accept this new form and see what he could do. He paced his apartment in only track pants. His toe claws silent on the mat, clicking on the wood. Every day that he let Freya hold onto Alexis and drain him weakened them both in body, soul and will.
Hellhound magic was untested. He hadn’t read anything on humans or witches wielding it, only horror stories of bite victims becoming hellhounds and going on rampages. That is what he’d been hunting when he’d been bitten.
He hadn’t even known hellhounds had magic, only that they were beings from another realm. He breathed in and let the magic flow through him. The magic was wilder, like a forest of thorns tearing through his blood and brightening every sense. Less magic and more raw energy.