Wicked Kiss

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Her stunning blue eyes widened. With her purple-streaked blond hair tumbling around her shoulders, she looked like a wild child on the way to a concert. “Nothing. Why?”

  His patience frayed. “I don’t have time for games, Victoria. Whatever you’re planning, stop. Now.” He crossed his arms.

  She rolled her pretty eyes. “You’re paranoid.” One purple nail tapped against her lips. “I guess at your age, I mean, after so long on earth, paranoia probably sets in, right?” Her voice couldn’t be any softer.

  He eyed the purple nail, wanting his mouth on those lips. “You’d do well not to cross me.”

  “Cross you?” Her eyebrows rose, laughter in her eyes. “How old-fashioned. Cross you.” She chuckled, the sound low and throaty.

  Oh, the hellion was asking for it. “Victoria.” He allowed his voice to deepen to a threat most animals instinctively would catch. “I already spanked you once. Do you want another for good measure?” He hated threatening her, but there wasn’t time for this nonsense.

  She lost her smile. Her head tilted to the side. “Well now, I’m not sure. Do you know how to properly spank a woman?”

  His mouth dropped open. What the holy hell? “Excuse me?”

  She smiled again, flashing her teeth. “I love a good spanking as much as the next woman, but only from somebody who knows what he’s doing, you know? Relieves the tension.” Her gaze swept him, head to toe. “You’re kind of uptight and probably way too rigid. So I guess I’ll have to pass. It’s kind of you to offer, though.” She clasped her hands together.

  “Oh baby,” he murmured, truly enjoying the challenge she’d hurled. Victoria Monzelle was one of a kind, without question. She met his gaze, amusement and a glittering triumph in her eyes. He smiled, wishing they had all day to explore just how rigid he could be. But the second he put his hands on her, it was over. He knew it. By the curve of her mouth, she knew it, too. For some reason, she wanted to goad him. She’d misread him if she thought he’d back down. “You really do like playing with fire, don’t you?” The irony, considering he could create fire, only amused him more.

  “I truly do.” She moved his way, no fear anywhere in her. “But we both know you’re all talk, don’t we?”

  “The second I stop talking, we’re both in trouble,” he said honestly. “Yet trouble is something you seek.”

  She moved into his space, and the scent of wild orchids, the kind growing abundantly around his childhood home, washed over him. “I love trouble.”

  Aye. He got that. What he didn’t understand was why he was fair game all of a sudden. Did she truly think he had that strong a grip on his control? The idea was a bit flattering and immensely disconcerting. A part of him, one he didn’t much like, wanted to forget the control and teach her a lesson. Yet that was exactly what she wanted, now wasn’t it? The very second he lost control, she gained it.

  And she knew it.

  “Off screens,” he ordered, keeping her gaze. The computers, unlike the woman, obeyed him instantly. “The second we leave here, you stay on my six. If I tell you to move, you do it. Got that?”

  Her smile was cheeky. “Of course.”

  His chin lifted. The animal inside him, the one he kept tightly tethered, stretched awake. He was a Coven Nine Enforcer, a primal male, and turning away from a challenge didn’t sit well. He’d been as noble as he could be, and he was done. Finished. “All right, Victoria. Here it is.”

  Her head tilted. “Here what is?”

  “The truth.” He slid his hands casually into his jeans to keep from grabbing her and taking her down. “You’ve played little domination games? A fun slap and tickle once in a while?”

  A light pink tinged her cheeks, and her chin firmed with pure stubborness. “Who hasn’t?” she asked flippantly.

  Yeah. That’s what he’d thought. “You like games. I get it. Games are fun.”

  Her smile wavered.

  “But I don’t play games.” He leaned in, gratified when her breath caught. “If I dominate you . . . you will submit. Not out of fun or play. Truly submit.”

  Her pupils dilated.

  He didn’t release her gaze, noting she hadn’t twitched a muscle. “I bet you never have, have you?”

  She blinked.

  “That’s what I thought.” He let his fangs show. “You challenge me again, and I’ll meet it. I won’t stop until you’re begging.”

  A rosy flush wound down her neck. Her nostrils flared just enough to prove her interest. “Begging for what?”

  He retracted the fangs. Did that flush reach her full breasts? “For whatever I want you to beg for.”

  Defiance played across her face.

  He shook his head. “You have a plane to catch. Do you want to go home, or do you want to challenge me again? Right now and right here.” He jerked his head toward the bedroom, allowing no expression on his face. His body heated. His cock pounded. “If we stay, we’re staying for quite some time.” His lungs compressed like he was standing on a cliff, ready to dive. “Home or bed, Victoria? Your choice.” He meant every damn word.

  Her gaze flickered to where the door should be and then back to him. Indecision and frustration all but rolled off her. Along with need. She swallowed. “Home.”

  He nodded, disappointment flashing through him with relief on its heels. “Wise choice.”

  * * *

  Victoria leaned against the metal wall of the hangar after having changed into jeans and a soft blue sweater. Once they left the safe house, Adam had her in a car and at the private airport within half an hour. The drive had been made in silence. Her mind still spun, and her body continued to riot. She couldn’t grab a thought. Worse yet, Adam Dunne had made her back down.

  Nobody in her entire life had made her back down.

  She watched him from beneath her lashes as he finished speaking to the pilot of a small airplane. The pilot was a thirty-something guy with a crew cut and pressed clothes, and next to Adam he faded into nothingness. It was futile to explain to either of them that no way in hell was she flying anywhere. So she waited for her chance.

  Adam, still in his worn jeans and wrinkled T-shirt, somehow looked more put together than Tori ever would. He nodded at the pilot and jogged around the plane, taking inventory of the machine. He ran his hand along the nearest wing, and she fought a moan.

  If she had met his challenge, she would’ve had that hand on her. Her nipples pebbled, and her abdomen heated.

  She’d enjoyed goading him, sure he wouldn’t follow through. She’d been wrong.

  He looked up, his dark gaze catching her. She swallowed. Why the hell she always felt like a naughty kid caught in the principal’s office around him she’d never understand. Which was why she’d tried to take him down. She’d mistakenly thought she could mess with him, embarrass him, and stop feeling like that.

  Again. Wrong.

  He straightened and moved toward her, his steps graceful and smooth. As a child on a field trip, she’d seen a jaguar in a zoo, and it had moved the same way, as if casual was just temporary until it decided when and how to pounce.

  Adam reached her. “I have a meeting across town and need to go to avoid an internal witch war. The pilot is finishing up the paperwork, and then he’ll fly you to Paris. You’ll catch another private plane there to Miami, and from there, to Seattle. Kellach and your sister will be waiting in Seattle to get you underground.” He rubbed a hand through his short hair. “I expect you to cooperate all the way home, Victoria.”

  Wasn’t he a bossy pants all of a sudden? Give the guy one good victory and he thought he had her. A girl had to have some pride, and she really didn’t like the rein of control he’d drawn tight since they’d left the safe house. Time to play with fire again. It was safe in the small hangar. She leaned up into his face, her lips hovering less than an inch from his. “I understand, oh dominant one.”

  His eyes glittered. Warning gleamed, hot and bright. “I don’t think you do.” His brogue rolled out with th
e words.

  Oh, man. She couldn’t help it. Her lips tickled into a small smile, and she flattened both hands across his wide chest. Raw power shifted beneath her palms. At the first touch, her knees went weak. He just felt so damn good. She went up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth against his. “Thank you for rescuing me yesterday,” she whispered, teasing them both.

  His lids half lowered.

  The devil had her. That had to be it, because she slowly sank her teeth into Adam’s bottom lip. She just couldn’t help herself.

  The muscles in his chest contracted and swelled, vibrating against her. He growled, and the sound dug deep into her abdomen. She blinked, reality brightening the day. What in the hell had she just done? She dropped to her feet and yanked her hands away as if burned. Had she been? She wasn’t sure. “Um.”

  “Um what?” he asked, his voice darker than chocolate and rougher than rock salt.

  “Oh.” God. Get out of there. Run. Retreat. Drop dead in a faint. But her knees wouldn’t move. “So. Well. Bye.” She moved to go past him.

  He moved with her, blocking her way.

  She stopped breathing, her gaze lifting to his.

  Hunger. Raw and feral, it glowed in those dark eyes. Her legs stopped. She tried to hitch around his other side. He easily moved with her in an odd dance that she definitely was not leading. She took a step back. He matched her step. Mad. That should make her mad. She dug deep for some anger, but only awareness filtered through her, setting her nerves on fire. “I should go,” she whispered.

  “Think so?” he asked silkily.

  She winced.

  “I warned you, Victoria,” he rumbled.

  Yeah, he had. She shook her head. “No committing battery here in public. Sorry, buddy.” Her butt clenched.

  His low chuckle echoed against her, surrounding her with the sense of male. “You think I need my hand on your ass to get submission? That’s my least favorite way, baby.”

  Oh man. Way out of her depth. Why couldn’t she breathe? Her damn lungs weren’t working. So she lifted her head, forcing bravado. “Eh. Gotta go. Sorry.” Did she wheeze that sentence? Hell. She had wheezed. Wheezing wasn’t tough. No. A brogue was tough. Yeah. She needed a brogue like he had.

  He moved into her, not fast, not slow, just deliberately.

  She tried to back up, but the metal side of the building stopped her. “Adam.”

  “Aye.” One knuckle lifted her chin.

  Her legs trembled.

  He leaned down and pressed his heated mouth against hers. His hand speared through her hair, holding her in place, and he kissed her. Liquid heat poured from him to her, swirling and catching her on fire. He didn’t touch her anywhere else, keeping her captive with his mouth, with his tongue. He took everything she had, and she wanted to give him more. Gladly.

  He was gentle and firm, fire and lava. All male, all-consuming. It was seduction in the smoothest sense, and he used not one ounce of his superior strength to subdue her. His kiss, alone, did that.

  She may have whimpered in denial when he released her.

  He gazed deep into her eyes. “There it is.” Releasing her hair, he ducked and tossed her over his shoulder.

  The world spun, and she still couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even think. Within seconds, he deposited her inside the plane. Turning her gently, he patted her on the ass until she continued inside. “Have a nice trip, Victoria.” Whistling, he turned to go.

  She blinked and all but fell into a leather seat. What the hell had just happened? Her mind cleared, and fury swirled through. Oh, she’d kill him. Leaning toward the nearest window, she saw him stretch into his car and drive away from the airport.

  The pilot jogged up the stairs, a smile on his broad face. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Only if you want to die.” Her survival instincts kicked in. Finally. She stood and moved to leave the plane.

  He grasped her arm. “My orders are clear.”

  She nodded, turned, and kneed him hard in the balls. He cried out and dropped to one knee, falling forward on the carpet. “You’ll thank me later,” she muttered, running down the steps and toward the parking lot. She had probably five minutes until the guy called Adam. Time to move.

  Chapter 5

  Wrong side of the road, damn it. Tori ignored the blaring horn and jerked the steering wheel to the left. Why did they drive on the left here? She gulped. Okay. No wrecks. She couldn’t get pulled over, either. What was the penalty for hot-wiring and stealing a car in Ireland? Her brow creased. Probably jail in one of their castle dungeons somewhere.

  So far, her odd curse hadn’t caused the engine to turn off. That was good. Rare, but not unheard of. Sometimes a car worked all day for her.

  The drive took almost thirty minutes, but she reached Dublin and abandoned the stolen car near a park. There were tons of parks in Dublin, so it seemed like a good place to leave a car so it’d be found eventually. Who the heck knew?

  A light rain started to fall, dotting her sweater. She ducked her head and hustled around a wrought-iron fence, moving into a small store. She paid for a green knit cap with money she’d found in the stolen car. Man, she was messing all over with Karma today. Tucking her hair up, she grabbed a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and perched them on her face on the way out.

  Okay. Just a phone place. That’s all she needed.

  She wandered the busy streets of central Dublin, crossing several times to avoid construction. Apparently, they were putting in a new public transport system. For now, she used the barricades and walls to her advantage. Finally, she came across a small electronics store. Dodging inside, she made her way to the back. “I need a temporary phone with minutes,” she told the proprietor, an elderly man with grizzly white hair and multiple age spots across his weathered face.

  He reached for a box and shoved it toward her. “Take your pick.”

  She grabbed one still in the plastic that had two hours and handed over the rest of her money. Giving him a nod, she ripped it open and left the plastic on the counter before hurrying back into the rain. Keeping her head down, she plowed through crowds toward a series of alleys, trying to stay away from any cameras. Finally, she leaned against the ancient rock of a building, her gaze on a deserted park on the other side. She rapidly punched in numbers.

  “Agent Franks,” came a low female voice.

  “Franks. It’s Victoria Monzelle.” She clutched the phone to her ear, her fingers going numb.

  Franks was silent for a moment. “Where the fuck have you been?” she snapped. “I’m one day from putting a BOLO out on you.”

  Yeah, right. Like the agent cared about her safety. “Yet you didn’t,” she snapped right back. “I’m in trouble.”

  “You’ve been in trouble for months,” Franks returned. “I’ll send a car to get you.”

  Tori rubbed rain off her face. “That might be a problem. I’m in Dublin.”

  “Bullshit. You have an hour to get your ass in here or I’m going to pull the plug. On everything. Say good-bye to your sister.” Rustling paper came over the line.

  Nausea slammed into Tori’s stomach. “I’m not joking, you twit. It’s a long story, but I’m in Dublin, and you have to get me out of here. Preferably by boat. There are cruises that leave Dublin, right?” It’d take time, but it was the safest way for her to go.

  Pounding boot steps filled the day. Oh God.

  “Monzelle? Stop fucking with me,” Franks bellowed.

  Movement showed around the corner. A shadow. “I have to go,” she whispered. “I’ll call back as soon as I can. Find a boat for me.” She clicked off and threw the phone on top of the roof, turning to run. More rain slapped down and she hustled, winding crazily through alleys until finally coming out to a busy street. She looked frantically for a bus to jump onto.

  A gloved hand wrapped around her arm. She partially turned to see a man in black combat gear, his face carefully blank. Shit. She opened her mouth to scream, and he plunged something into her a
rm.

  Then . . . she couldn’t move. He picked her up as if she were fainting and walked easily toward a car waiting at the curb. Her eyes were open, but her mouth stayed shut. She couldn’t move her hands. What the hell had he given her? Terror filled her. He sat in the rear of the black vehicle, holding her on his lap, looking straight ahead. As they left the city, he moved slightly, and a blindfold dropped over her head. She tried to scream, but only a mewling came out.

  “You’re safe for now,” he said, his brogue deep. “The location of our headquarters is confidential. That’s the only reason you’re blindfolded.”

  So he didn’t want to hurt her. For now. Yeah. She’d caught that. Her eyelids fluttered shut. Good. She breathed deep, trying to shove whatever drug he’d given her right out of her system. Soon her fingers began to tingle. Then her toes and legs. Then her arms started to move. The car stopped, and the man lifted her out of the vehicle, carrying her through the rain and inside an extremely quiet building. A few more twists and turns, and he set her down on what felt like a soft sofa. He removed the blindfold and quickly exited the room.

  Fifteen minutes later, she stumbled to her feet, shaking out her arms. “Thank God.” She said the words out loud, just to make sure she could speak. The drug wore off quickly, at least.

  She moved forward and patted down the plain stone wall that had been a doorway a few minutes ago. Nothing. No grooves, no dents, no rough patches. Smooth rock. The damn kidnappers had found her again.

  How?

  She turned and viewed the cell, if the opulent room could be called a cell. A purple velvet divan took up one entire wall, complete with brocade pillows. It was a divan and not a couch. Wealthy people called them divans. An oil painting, stunning in its vibrant colors of a sunset over a stormy ocean, hung above the furniture. She squinted and moved to read the signature. Brenna Dunne.

  She liked Brenna, who was Simone’s cousin.

  A bathroom, complete with marble and gold accents, lay at the other end of the room that no longer had a door.

  Tori had to get out of there. Could she use her odd gift against fake walls? She pushed against the wall. Nothing. Taking several deep breaths, she centered herself and rubbed her hands together quickly until her skin hurt. Then she placed her hands on the wall again.