"You're under dressed for snow," he said frowning.
She laughed up at him.
"Good Morning to you too. I have a coat in my bag. I'll worry about the weather when we land," she said, her husky voice washing over him in a trickling a swift wave of heat down his cock.
Narrowing his gaze on her overly sweet smile, he wasn't fooled. She was up to something.
"Good Morning. I have a car waiting to take us to the airstrip."
Her smile wavered and she raised a brow at him.
"I was hoping to have breakfast here before we left."
"We can eat on the plane. The schedule is too tight. Darius makes his announcement tonight and we'll need to stop off in New York to refuel."
The plump curve of her lips formed a perfect pout, before she flicked her hair of her shoulders and stepped over the threshold.
"Fine. My bags are on the bed," she said as she brushed passed him.
He bit back a groan when she lingered a moment, her breasts teasing against the thin material of his shirt.
Someone wants to play.
She leaned in close, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.
"I'm not going to forget about last night you know," she said.
Her eyes glittered with maniacal glee in the sunlight.
"I should hope not."
He turned slightly, placing a hand at the base of her back, bringing her tight against the erection that never ceased to be present around her. Despite the clear arousal he saw in her gaze and felt in the softening of her body against his, her lips quirked into a smile that sent a shiver of both dread and anticipation down his spine.
"Good, I believe in forewarning. And unlike you I also believe in fair play," she said as she pulled away from his grip and continued down the walkway.
"I'll go check out and meet you in the lobby."
He stared after her, watching her hips sway in a tantalizing rhythm down the walkway.
The woman was going to be the death of him, and damn if he wasn't primed in anticipation.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he entered the room and bit back a groan. The room was heavy with the scent of her and reminded him that they had a twelve hour flight where he'd be in a sealed jet with her.
He smiled at the thought.
The confinement may test his control, but had the makings of breaking Georgia's first. The opportunity to grow closer to her was a bonus to a situation he considered less than ideal.
Whatever was forcing Darius decision, was serious. Before leaving his room to approach Georgia last night, he'd received a phone call from The Council. They were sending in Sergei to witness the alpha announcement.
He didn't surprise easily, but that bit of news had done the trick.
Sergei was an enforcer like himself, yet his skills ran in a different direction. The stoic Russian was a hybrid just like Georgia. However his birth was due the union between two different types of shifter—a werewolf and bear shifter. Instead of dealing with the dual nature of his human and wolf sides, he had the added complication of a temperamental bear. Whereas Marcus excelled at tracking, Sergei specialized in total destruction.
His triple nature made it easy for Sergei to slip into a berserk mode that was awesome and terrifying to witness. If the Council had decided to send him in, there was indeed more to the situation than Darius was telling him.
Lifting Georgia's bags from the bed, her turned to leave.
Whatever the situation brewing, he knew one thing for certain—he had no intention of letting anything happen to Georgia or her pack.
Three
Georgia looked around the cabin and tried not to let her surprise register on her face. The small jet was in a single word-swanky.
She stood in what looked like the main cabin. Four large, cream colored leather seats were arranged in the center, mimicking a room in an upscale clubhouse. A small table jutted out from a wall between two chairs. Several covered dishes sat waiting on it. Steam snaked up from the tops and the distinct aroma of smoked bacon teased at her.
The center isle led to a closed large, wood inlaid door and on the opposite end, in front of a smaller door stood a petite blonde woman dressed in a white blouse and navy blue pencil skirt and a tall gentleman wearing a small hat, pressed navy slacks and matching dress shirt.
"Good Morning Mr. Legrand," the woman said.
Marcus nodded his head in acknowledgment.
"Georgia, this Janet, she'll be our attendant for the trip and that's George our pilot."
Georgia whispered a soft hello.
The pilot tipped his hat at her before speaking to Marcus.
We're all clear with air control. If you can start to settle in we can get ready for takeoff," he said
"Just give us a few moments. I'd like to show Georgia around first."
Marcus grabbed her elbow and led her down the aisle.
"You have a pilot," she said.
"Yes, it's part of the whole point of having a jet."
She blinked at him and wondered just how much a Council enforcer actually made.
"There are two bathrooms on the plane one up front and one in the sleeping cabin," he said pointing towards the large wooden door.
"Sleeping cabin?"
He opened the door and this time she didn't bother hiding her shock.
A plush king-sized bed filled the adjoining room along with a small desk and chair on one side and chaise on the other.
Pulling the door closed he led her back to the leather seats and table set for breakfast.
She sank down into the chair, biting back a sigh at its softness.
Marcus sat across from her and leaned back. Re pressed a small button on the console of his chain then unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled them back.
Her gaze followed the movement lingering on the patchwork of tattoos crawling up his arms.
How far do they reach?
This was the first time she'd gotten a closer look at the markings. The night they'd gone after the rogues, she'd been too focused in controlling her own shift and had turned away before she could watch him change. She could only recall the size of his massive wolf after he shifted.
Dressing conservatively, he didn't seem the type to have a tattoo, let along what looked like two full sleeves worth.
She opened her mouth to ask about them, but shut it quickly when the flight attendant walked back into the cabin pushing a small cart.
The woman filled their glasses with orange juice and another set with water. She then lifted the silver covers from each dish before retreating again behind the door at the front of the plane.
Georgia lifted her fork and speared a strip of bacon.
"Sleep well?"
She tried not to sneer at his question.
"Like a baby."
"Glad to hear it."
"I'm sure you are."
"Ask."
"Ask what?"
"Whatever you wanted before Janet came in."
She remained silent for several minutes, moving the food around on her plate. Sitting back she nodded down at his bare forearms.
"What's with all of the ink?"
His hand clenched around his utensils for a moment before placing them down on the table. He leaned back and crossed his across his chest.
"Not a fan of tattoos?"
She shook her head in denial.
"More curious about why you have them."
"They help me remember."
"Remember what?"
He shrugged.
"To be human."
She scrunched her nose in confusion.
"But—"
"I've been an enforcer a very long time. It's too easy to leave your humanity behind when you have to make the decisions I'm forced to."
She tilted her head and traced the line of one feather with her gaze.
"So why feathers?"
He unfolded his arms and placed his forearms on the table.
"Each one repres
ents a decision made, a sentence given and a life taken."
Blood rushed in her ears as she took in the number of quills revealed by his rolled up sleeves.
"My God," she whispered.
Her gaze flew up to meet his eyes. His look remained cool as if assessing her reaction.
What did he expect her to say? She knew what he was, but faced with the reality of it was jarring.
He pressed the call button again and a few moments later Janet returned to the cabin and cleared away the rest of the food. Finished loading her cart, she bent and folded the table down. When she was done it lay flush against the wall leaving an open space between the two chairs.
Watching the woman retreat she wished she could raise the barrier again and give her more time to process what Marcus had revealed to her.
"I don't regret who I am Gigi."
She nodded her head at his statement.
"You shouldn't."
Surprise flickered across his eyes as he watched her.
"You say that but you look terrified at the same time," he said.
She snorted.
"You don't scare me Marcus. Cut me some slack here. You can't sit there and say you’ve killed dozens of people and expect me to say 'Cool, pass the salt'."
He remained silent. Sighing she pointed to his shirt.
"Show me," she asked.
He lifted his hands and began to unbutton his shirt. When the light blue fabric parted and revealed the rigid plains of his chest, she licked her lips.
Her breath froze when he shrugged the garment off his shoulders.
She left her chair and knelt in front of him, mesmerized by the intricate lines laced along his flesh. The feathers encompassed both arms entirely, curling up and over his shoulders. With his hands down by his sides he looked like a dark winged angel.
"I know who you are Marcus," she said reaching a finger up to touch one delicate quill on his biceps.
His muscles bunched beneath her touch and she smiled.
"Everyone knows that the Ma'at are necessary. No one denies that you keep us all safe," she said.
He grunted a response, but she could tell that he didn't believe her.
"I don't need your pity Gigi."
She sat back on her heels and glared at him.
"Don't be an ass. The only thing I pity about you is your obvious lack of finesse and inability to understand the words 'Go Away'."
He frowned down at her.
"Are we having a moment?"
She rolled her eyes and stood up.
"If we were it's officially dead and done."
That will teach me to be nice to the enemy.
She'd never seen a grown man pout but watching the downward tilt of Marcus' lips, she had a feeling that was about to change.
"If you'd like, I'll let you kiss each one to help me feel better."
He grabbed her wrist and tried to tug her down to his lap.
Her tongue snaked out to lick her bottom lip at his suggestion. Her forgotten heat beat back through her body in full force and with it she remembered a promise she made earlier. If he needed to punish himself so badly with memories, she had no problem giving him something to lament.
She pulled away and took another step back.
"Where's my carryon bag?"
There goes that pout again.
If he were anyone else she'd label it cute. But on him it just looked wicked.
"In the sleeping cabin."
"Perfect. Do you remember what I told you earlier Marcus—at the hotel?"
His eyes narrowed and she smiled.
"You do."
Reaching behind her back she grabbed the zipper of her dress and lowered it down slowly. She held the bodice to her chest, letting the straps graze her shoulders.
She stared at him as she walked backwards to the sleeping cabin, allowing the dress slide a little more with each step.
"I lied you know. I couldn't sleep at all last night," she said.
"I was wet and aching all night."
His nostrils flared and her body responded as she knew it would, tightening and throbbing, eager for him to touch.
"I thought about how you would feel inside me, filling me, riding me."
A growl rumbled up his chest and she clenched her thighs.
She could see his erection tenting his pants, and she swallowed imagining what he would taste like. She allowed her imagination free reign for a moment, her pussy flooding at the images of them together.
She wanted the scent of her arousal to bring him to his knees.
Her back brushed against wooden door.
"And then when I opened the door and saw you standing there..."
Almost there.
She reached behind her, turned the nob and pushed the door open.
Crossing the threshold, she let the dress drop to the floor exposing the lacy underwear she wore underneath.
She could see it in his eyes—the combination of hope and dread swirling around in a mess of need.
"And then I remembered what vibrators are for."
Smiling sweetly she closed the door and turned the lock.
Stumbling to the bed she kicked off her shoes, shed her bra and panties, and crawled between the sheets.
Snaking her hand down her stomach to between her thighs, she stroked herself in fevered movements—once, twice, then came in a muffled shriek.
Breathing heavily she curled onto her side.
Payback was a double edged sword, but recalling the look of lust and resignation stamped across Marcus' face she couldn't hold back a smile.
Pulling a pillow close she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Four
Georgia, drifted awake in a slow languid haze. Stretching her arms above her head she arched her back up and let out a long sigh. Opening her eyes she blinked several times, disoriented at her surroundings.
"You're awake."
Gasping she sat up in the bed.
"What the hell!"
Marcus sat just at the foot of the bed, staring down at her with a strange look on his face. The shirt he'd removed earlier was back in place, its crisp lines covering the markings she'd seen underneath. She shivered when she thought of what each one meant.
"You look cute rumpled."
His gaze flickered lower.
"And topless."
She growled, pulling the sheet up to cover her chest.
"Have you ever heard of knocking?"
"I did, but you were sleeping soundly. Besides I didn't want to interrupt the show."
"You're a pervert."
"At your service."
He bowed his head in a mocking salute.
"What do you want?"
She raised her hand at his wicked smile.
"Forget I asked. What are you doing here?"
"You've been asleep for a while and I thought, you'd like some lunch."
Her stomach chose that moment to growl. Sighing she swung her legs over the side of the bed.
"Sounds like my stomach agrees with you. Give me a few moments to freshen up and I'll join you."
"No need to dress on my account."
Wrapping the sheet around herself she stood and threw him a derisive look. Glancing around she saw her clothing folded neatly on the chair next to the bed.
She looked at him again, noting the gleam in his eyes.
"I wouldn't want to upset your refined sensibilities,” she said drawling the words as she leaned over the chair and retrieved her clothing.
"I'm enjoying the view."
"Get out Marcus."
"Afraid to let me stay?"
Shooting him a glare over her shoulder she turned her back to him and dropped the sheet.
"Not at all," she said bending forward to pull her thong up her legs.
She dragged the silky material up in a slow glide up her thighs before settling them on her hips. She slipped into her wedged heels and leaving her bra on the chair, she picked up her dress.
&
nbsp; The skin on her back tingled. She could feel his eyes on her and she enjoyed making him suffer as much as he seemed to enjoy provoking her.
She stretched up and pulled the dress over her head and let it float down her body. Turning, she walked to him, enjoying the lust she saw glittering in his light gaze.
Be careful what you ask for.
"Lend me a hand will you," she asked showing him the back of her dress.
"You're an evil woman Georgia Walker," he said, his voice coming out in a raspy rumble as he pulled the zipper closed.
She locked her legs against the slow caress of his knuckles brushing against her skin.
"And you're an ass Marcus Legrand. I'm so glad we understand each other," she said reaching for the door knob and walking back into the plane's main cabin.
His soft chuckle followed her out.
"More than you know Gigi. More than you know."
She plopped down in the seat she vacated earlier that day and frowned at him.
"Do you ever get tired of being so cryptic?"
"Do you ever get tired of being so contrary?"
She grinned and snapped her seat belt shut.
"No."
"Then I guess we're at an impasse."
Shrugging her shoulders she looked out of the window.
"Where are we?"
"JFK."
"When do we get to the gate?"
"We don't. We've only stopped to refuel. We'll be back in the air in a little while."
He pressed a button at the console before taking a seat across from her.
"Janet will be in to serve us lunch shortly."
On queue the woman walked into the cabin pushing a small cart. There were two covered plates just like earlier, but this time Georgia smelled the savory aroma of roasted chicken and vegetables. Her stomach growled again and was thankful when Janet extended the small table from the interior wall and placed the food in front of her.
"Rosemary chicken and roasted potatoes. What can I get you to drink," the woman asked.
Georgia glanced up at the breathy sound of Janet's voice. For the first time she noticed a deep blush staining the woman's cheeks and the hitch in her breath.
What was her problem?
Georgia titled her head and stared at the woman, taking in her dilated eyes, the pulse beating rapidly at her throat. Sniffing discreetly at the air it hit her and a growl slipped from her lips.
Midnight Dare Page 2