Dangerous Seduction

by Diana Rose Wilson

  Marcie couldn’t get that lucky.

  “Spry old bitch! She got loose,” Anthony shouted from the distance. “Here she comes.”

  The old woman wasn’t giving up her prized weapon and spy without a fight. For a moment, nothing happened, and then brighter red flared around them. The air vibrated as though a great gong had sounded. It sent a rattling ache through Marcie.

  “She is mine! I keep what is mine!” the voice wailed, trying to drive barbs into Marcie. They didn’t pierce through the strange red mist, but the impact slammed into her with a bone-rattling agony. Beatrix screamed in pain and then, her voice filled with rage, she said, “I will cripple her! I will strip her down to the bones! If I can’t use her, no one else will!”

  “Like your son and your nephew, she is protected by the tribe!” The words rose over the shrieks and the wind. Barbara’s voice echoed through the clamor of sensation and sound.

  ”Savages! She will never reach her potential. She will never embrace her spirit form.”

  It felt as though a lion grabbed Marcie’s skull in its jaws. Pressure crushed her head as agony tore through her with white-hot fire.

  Beatrix emerged through the fog with all the terrible power and glory of the Valkyrie. Her beautiful face was twisted with rage. The woman tried to snatch her from Mano, yanking her ethereal form. He was much stronger. His gaze caught Marcie’s through the darkness, blotting out everything else. The gleaming silver of his eyes flashed in the ruby light. In that look he assured her that he would never let go! No matter the cost, he would always hold her close and safe. He angled downward, moving them closer to the voices. Together they spiraled down through the void in an attempt to shake off Beatrix.

  “Release her, or we will do worse than blind you.” A lance of fire speared directly into Beatrix Engel’s shadowy forehead. Anthony’s voice was so calm, as though he were telling a child not to touch a hot stove.

  They didn’t give her time to threaten or protest. They didn’t give her time to withdraw either. Making good on the threat, they applied fire to her eyes. The blue-white flames consumed her features and Marcie turned away. She didn’t want to see the orbs bubble in her skull. The sizzling sound was more than enough.

  “Do you know the best thing about the traditional Wallace breakfast? Aside from the fact that it tastes fantastic, it is also laced with protective magic. Recipes are not handed down through generations without collecting energy. This one in particular carries all the elements of an extremely powerful and complex spell.

  “Fire, earth, water, air. Made and served with love. It is the most powerful magic. It’s also full of blood. You have the protection of blood in you. Not harvested in some distant slaughterhouse with millions of other pigs, but a boar’s blood with a primal connection to the earth, selected special from Harris land. Old land. Protected land.” Mano’s words whispered against her ear. He angled their fall into a steeper dive, trying to shake the flaming Valkyrie off Marcie. They were falling like a comet through the darkness.

  The protection was strong but even it was not adequate to fully shield her against Beatrix’s strength. The magic kept the Valkyrie from pulling Marcie from Mano’s grasp, preventing her from being shredded and tossed into the dark. It didn’t shield her from the pain, however, and when Beatrix realized her hold was slipping, she changed tactics.

  Marcie felt the fragile, beautiful connection she held with Mano began to unravel. It was worse than the pain in her head. The delicate threads melted under the Valkyrie’s brutal focus. It began at her palm, right where her mark covered her skin, and swiftly burned toward her heart.

  ”She will never feel anything. She will wish I killed her. Then I will deal with the guard and the seeker and address their betrayal,” Beatrix threatened.

  It was one thing to hurt her, but completely different to threaten her friends. Her family. Her love.

  Too much of her life had been wasted at the mercy of this woman. She wouldn’t let anyone else get hurt to protect her. This fight was hers!

  She was no rabbit.

  In her heart, she was a lion!

  “Do what you want to me. But you will leave them all alone!” Marcie cried into the roar of flames. Let it burn her down to the roots. Let it take all she was, as long as Beatrix went with her.

  Beatrix was clearly not expecting Marcie to retaliate. She shrieked out in agony when Marcie released her hold on Mano and twisted toward her. Even in the dark, she could see the horrific burns the kiss of fire had left on Beatrix’s features. Marcie yanked her hand away from the woman’s grip, crying out as she tore free of more of the connections. She clenched her hand into a fist and slammed it into the charred face.

  All those precious links lost! Torn from her, leaving raw, empty holes.

  If the fury had not frozen her emotions inside her chest, she would have cried for her loss. Hers was a frosty, vengeful anger. Her wings fanned open, brilliant white feathers blazing with diamond light through the mist as the bandages burned away.

  Beatrix tried to jerk back with a choked sound of terror. She attempted to twist away and escape, but Marcie held her. Even without functioning eyes, Beatrix responded to the radiance that cut her stained, ugly shadows.

  Marcie felt stripped raw! In the places once overflowing with joy and happiness, there were only frozen caverns.

  “Mercy! Mercy!” the woman burbled weakly in fear.

  Marcie wanted her to feel this torment forever! She needed her to suffer the same vast emptiness, but she remembered Mano’s words.

  That sort of thing can leave a stain on you forever.

  The tears didn’t come. Even as grief drowned her, there were no tears. They crusted into snowflakes before ever trickling free. She sagged as she released the ruinous creature. Mano pulled her tightly to him, feverishly hot against her frozen body. It did nothing to comfort her.

  She would never be free of the numbing cold.

  “Let me go. You should let me go!” Marcie cried. The emptiness inside her stretched on forever. She couldn’t live that way!

  “Never!” Mano growled and prevented her from pushing away from him. “Let me—”

  “You don’t understand, it’s too much to bear! I cannot do this!” Living forever in this cold? How could he wish that on her? She held up her hand to show him the blackened and curled fingers, the ruin of the lovely threads that once held her to him. “I want to die.”

  “Don’t you ever fucking say that! You are stronger than this.” He covered her hand with his, the smallest prickles unpleasantly stabbing her, but it was a sensation. It was better than the numbing horror. “I have stood watch. I have guarded. I have searched. I have protected. I don’t fucking give up! I waited my whole life for you, my soul-bound love. You are never free of me, so that means you fucking fight! Because I can cross the threshold and I will come for you.”

  She felt his forehead press against hers, the stinging rain of his tears falling on her cheeks.

  Through him, she felt every second of his patient waiting and the agonizing weight of the obligation he carried year after year. Without question. Without faltering. Without complaint. She didn’t understand why, but she knew that same determination would drag her through this horrible, cold place and into the warmth if she met even half his effort.

  Even as she formed the thought, she felt the tingling stir against her palm and grabbed for it, protecting the tiny spark about to be extinguished. The moment her attention focused on it, the little connection blazed. The small, delicate warmth felt like a burn after the moments of the frozen void. She wouldn’t let the bitch win! She wouldn’t lie down without a fight.

  Mano kissed her so softly and lovingly—a single caress of his lips over hers. “That’s right. Because it takes more than a jealous Valkyrie to unravel you, Dama Poderosa.” Powerful Lady. “My Santa Muerte.” Holy Death.

  As the silvery warmth spread to gold around her fingers and drove into her palm, she remembered her mother. Beautiful
and haunting, the woman had sat at her bedside, stroking her fingers. She’d carried such a heavy burden and Marcie could see it in her lovely features, but had not understood. How could a child grasp what it must have meant for her?

  When you are older, I will tell you everything.

  Marcie was never old enough before her mother passed away. She assumed the heavy sadness was from the loveless marriage with Marcie’s father.

  Marcie was looking at her mother’s hand, comparing their twin hourglass marks. “Death is not the end. It is only the beginning. You see, the hourglass can be turned over. We begin again.” Her mother’s voice soothed a younger Marcie and whispered across time.

  “I love you,” she called to Mano over the wind, feeling the tears melting in her eyes, feeling her heart swelling and brightening enough to blind her.

  “I love you, too!”

  When she started to curl her arms and legs around him, she realized they were still flying, his wings stretched wide, catching whatever ethereal wind there was there.

  “All right, lovebirds. We need to go!” Anthony’s voice called out through the elements and the darkness.

  Go? Marcie looked around, but she could not see anything except the gray and Mano, directly in front of her.

  “Right.” Mano sounded amused as he growled into her ear, “Wake up!”

  Chapter 4

  Love

  Love!

  Marcie woke feeling wrapped in warmth, both physically and emotionally. She found herself lying in a tiny bed and sat bolt upright. The quilt she’d been bundled in was sewn in bright gem colors. It created multiple compass stars in various sizes, each one fitting together perfectly. Like the map of a strange sky.

  To guide you home, wherever you may roam. So you will always find your way, brother. An unfamiliar woman’s voice whispered through her. That memory, which didn’t belong to Marcie, filled her with both kindness and sorrow.

  The moment she sat up, Mano came into view, striding quickly across the room toward her. Matching the bed, the space was small, the walls undecorated. The only furnishing was the single side table. The reality that his bedroom was only ever a place to snatch a few moments of sleep tore at something inside her.

  “Hello, love. How are you feeling?” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand.

  She clutched onto him, sliding her fingers around his, relishing the steady thrum of their connection.

  “Hello, love.” Her voice caught on the word and his fingers tightened around hers. She felt herself smiling. “Thirsty. Starving.” But whole! Better, she was free of Beatrix’s wretched hooks!

  He only had eyes for her. “I’ll take care of your every craving,” he promised, and the way he said it made fire spread through her from the place their palms touched to her heart and down, to curl in her belly and sex. The need to have him eclipsed the hunger and thirst. She ached for him to put his marks on her and claim her all over again.

  Leaning closer, he kissed her. A chaste caress that brushed over her lips as though he were afraid she would splinter, or worse, she might fly away from him. The evergreen warmth of him drew her in and her arms slid over his shoulders and up through his long, unbound hair. She tightened her fingers in the silken strands to keep him from escaping her.

  She wasn’t going anywhere! She would only shatter with him!

  His arms slid around her, his fingers raking along her hip and lower back, and she realized she wore one of his T-shirts and nothing else as he pushed the thick quilt away from her. It felt so good for him to cover her and pin her down. She responded with a pulse of need at the familiar weight of him. Keyed exclusively to his touch, her sex tightened in anticipation as his fingers pushed up the shirt and he slid his hands along her naked skin.

  When she parted her lips in a gasp, he teased her lower lip with his tongue, moaning her name as he tightened his grip on her, shuddering. Her tongue darted forward, flickering across his before retreating, emboldening him to thrust into her mouth and catch hers. They wrestled together with mingled growls of hunger. With that simple sound, he rekindled her desire for him into a bonfire.

  He, too, wore only a T-shirt and instead of jeans, a loose-fitting pair of shorts, the soft fabric nuzzling her inner thigh as he rubbed against her. The thin fabric between them offered nothing to conceal his body’s response to her. As he pressed against her, she felt the thick curve of his manhood nuzzle her hip. Under the soft cloth his cock was pure steel, straining as he rocked toward her. Despite it only being hours, it felt like a lifetime since she’d touched him. The fear that they might never connect again terrified her.

  Her fingers clawed up his back, pushing the shirt up until she felt his wings and feathers tickling her skin. At the same time, his hands pushed up her shirt and he broke the kiss to press suckling bites along her jaw and throat, licking toward her breasts. And his strong fingers curled around the arms of her wings. The sensation sent a tightening pleasure lower, down into her stomach to knot there.

  “You make me want to hurt you in the most delicious ways, Mano,” she growled low in her throat.

  Heat smoldered in his gaze in an echo of her need at her words. “How would you hurt me?” Her glorious barbarian arched into the removal of his shirt. His eyes rolled back as she scratched down his chest and finally it was as bare as hers. She ran her tongue over his naked shoulder, tracing the curving tattoo.

  “Bite you,” she murmured, demonstrating with a nibble along his collarbone that made his body stiffen above her as he tipped his head back to give her better access. “Scratch you.” She explored his tattoos over his muscular chest with her fingernails. “Put my marks in you.”

  “Fuck!” he groaned thickly as she pulled his head back with one hand wrapped in his hair.

  “I don’t think anyone has dared hurt you before.” She arched an eyebrow up.

  “Only you, Mistress,” he groaned and sagged when she withdrew the touches. When she lightly feathered her fingers over the welts she’d created, he growled. “More!” His voice dropped into a seductive purr.

  She vibrated with hunger for him. “Beg,” she whispered, baring her teeth as she hissed out the word. “If you really want it, you have to make me believe you.”

  He shivered as her words struck a chord of yearning in him. His voice lowered into a husky rumble, “Please, cruel Mistress! I need you to hurt me!” Golden eyelashes swept low at the intensity of his words.

  Wrapping her legs around his hips, she arched and rolled with him. The small bed provided hardly enough room, but he skillfully adjusted with her to keep them from rolling completely off the edge. The movement was graceful and elegant, as though they’d been doing it forever.

  His blazing gaze flicked up through his lashes. “So much better in reality,” he whispered, as though he’d dreamed of the moment, and the reality of that fact made her heart hammer.

  She was the first woman in his bed.

  She used the shirt to twine around his wrists and he stretched back under her, his golden wings fanned open on either side of him, glinting in the morning sun where they were pinned under their combined weight. Running her fingernails along the tattoos accenting his hard abs made the muscles flex and jump. His breath hissed out through his teeth.

  “My handsome angelfish,” she whispered, grasping his nipple between her fingers, pinching on the dusky rose flesh.

  He groaned in response, his smile fierce. His cock responded, pulsing as she scraped a line around his nipples. She traced the whorls of jagged markings and scale-like patterns.

  Rocking his hips upward, he tried to grind against her, but she shifted away from him, avoiding the touch. A violent shudder ran through him, probably a mixture of need and frustration at being denied the little satisfaction.

  She licked the dark vees down his chest. He tasted spicy and hot under her tongue, with the stronger tang of evergreen wilderness. It was impossible to get enough of his taste. Growling into his skin, she caught the fles
h at his ribs between her teeth, running nibbles and bites along his tribal marks hard enough to leave welts, nearly breaking the skin in her hunger for him.

  He gasped at her rough play and uttered a soft string of curses at the erotic mixing of pain and pleasure. His body lurched, and his hands gripped at the tangle of the T-shirt, as if longing to reach and touch her.

  His cock swelled thicker as she explored his body with her mouth and tongue, teeth and fingers. When she reached his waistband, she released the grip on his hair so she could tug the clothing down his powerful hips. Her thumbs scratched over his hipbones and then she kissed his chest as the shorts slid down his legs.

  Glistening pre-cum trickled from the slit at the crown as she teased his nipples with licks and then sucked one while pinching the other. She scratched up his chest and down his sides, touching everywhere except his glorious cock.

  “Mistress! Please!” His voice became husky and raw from his moans for more.

  “Please what, love?” she whispered, drawing away from the torments to gaze down at him.

  His restraint dangled by the most delicate of threads. She loved the sight of his cock bobbing in time with the pulse throbbing in his throat.

  “Touch my cock. Oh, fuck. Love, please!”

  Purring in delight at his desperation, she curled her tongue around his nipple and then trapped the bud of flesh between her teeth, lashing her tongue across him. There would be sweet payback for this. She felt it in the back of her mind. His silvery eyes cut into her, yearning for her. Needing her.

  His body strained toward her touch. As she smoothed her hand down his stomach, he gasped, pleading for her as more pre-cum made his thick cock head slick. She sensed that he’d never felt this before. Somehow those urges had been switched off, preventing him from suffering from blue-balls.

  His voice broke, the begging becoming more frantic for her to end his suffering. She cupped her fingers over his balls, lightly squeezing the potent sac and the swollen orbs within.