The Passion Season

by Libby Doyle

  Press me, press me. I want to feel your skin. More, more, more.

  She leaned back, ran her hands over his gorgeous pecs, his rock-hard abdomen, savoring the grooves of his muscles, her breathing fast and shallow. When she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, Rainer crushed his face to her neck and emitted a low rumble from deep within his chest. The sound went right through her.

  Was that a growl? Oh, I am going to die.

  Rainer nibbled her neck and growled again, low in her ear. His fingers traveled along the top edge of her pants until they reached the front and undid the button.

  “God, yes, take them off me.”

  He slowly peeled back her pants, sliding down to place gentle kisses on her belly. Zan was in a frenzy at the thought of what he seemed about to do when Rainer raised his head.

  “Someone is coming. Another boat. I had hoped they would take the larger channel to the left of the island.”

  Zan groaned. Rainer looked around. “Your shirt,” he said.

  They couldn’t find it, and the boat was coming up on them fast. Rainer’s shirt lay at their feet so he picked it up, shook it out and gave it to her. She pulled it on and they sat on the engine box waiting for the boat to go by, his arm around her.

  “Hopefully, they will pass quickly.” Rainer seemed nervous, but Zan pitched into him and started to laugh, which made him laugh, too.

  The boat, a fiberglass 24-footer, had slowed to pass. At first, Zan thought the driver was trying to avoid a big wake, but the craft pulled up so close it had to have been deliberate. When the boat was right beside them, the occupants—young men with red plastic cups in their hands—started hooting and yelling, “Hey, bruh, don’t stop now, we want to watch,” and “Show us your tits!”

  A growl of a different sort came from Rainer. His eyes blazed like a fire doused with gasoline. He shot upright, hopped onto the engine box and leaped across the roughly eight feet of water onto the swim platform attached to the rear of the other boat. The young men dropped their cups and grabbed the sides as Rainer’s weight made the boat lurch. He strode onto the deck and glared at his penned quarry, nostrils flaring. They huddled against the backs of the seats.

  “That was tasteless. And rude.” Rainer’s voice was not loud, but so filled with bass that it carried, a sound more felt than heard. He loomed over the young men until one of them whimpered. “I will go back to my boat, and you will leave,” he said, slowly enunciating each word. “Or, I will rip out your tongues.”

  Rainer jumped back into the boat beside Zan. She held onto the side to stay upright as it rocked. The young men sped off as fast as their fancy vessel could take them. Rainer scowled after them as Zan erupted in laughter.

  “My god, you’re completely nuts!” she said between guffaws. “Who does shit like that? You’re totally out of your mind!”

  “In a way you like, evidently.”

  “How could I not? Those little bastards. The look on their faces was priceless. They were so scared. And there were five of them!”

  “Yes, the odds were against them.”

  Zan opened her mouth, amazed at his demeanor.

  A lunatic and a badass. He is fabulous.

  “And that voice! I wish I had a voice like that to use on criminals, so I could make them freeze to the spot in abject fear.” Zan retrieved her shirt and bra from under the steering wheel, put them on, then gave Rainer his shirt.

  “You’ve got quite a temper there, don’t you?” she said, watching wistfully as he covered himself. “You better hope those guys don’t remember the registration number on the side of your boat because, um, you’re actually not allowed to do stuff like that.”

  “Phfffft. They were far too terrified to think clearly. Besides, who cares about some slight consequence? They disrespected you.” He looked at her earnestly. “No one is allowed to disrespect you.”

  She almost teared up.

  Where did you come from?

  “Perhaps those idiots did us a favor,” Rainer continued as he put his arms around her waist. “I was overwhelmed. I lost my senses in you, but we shouldn’t do that here. I have to leave in a few hours, and after our first time, I want to wake beside you.” He drew her closer and spoke low in her ear. “For our first time, we should be somewhere warm, comfortable and private, where I can take off your clothes and explore every inch of your skin, very, very slowly.”

  Zan’s body shuddered. “Oh, yes,” she murmured. He squeezed her tightly and sucked on her earlobe, causing heat to rage through her body.

  “Mmmmmm, anticipation is the sweetest pain,” he whispered.

  “Rainer—” Zan had to stop, thunderstruck by wanting.

  They held each other in silence for a time, enjoying the light. When it grew dark, Rainer fired up the engines and headed home. As they approached the city, Zan concentrated on the feel of the wind on her face as she tried to come down to Earth.

  CHAPTER 9

  THE TWO COVALENT stepped out of the rift and walked the hundred yards or so to Barakiel’s house. Pellus enjoyed the power of his bond with the warrior, though it quickly faded. He could not imagine what it was like to feel that way all the time.

  When they crossed the threshold, Barakiel spread his arms wide. “Ah! Home sweet home!”

  Pellus gave him a sideways glance. “What has gotten into you?” he asked. “Remiel said you outdid yourself on the battlefield. At our business meeting, you were slapping everyone on the back. Now, you are overjoyed to be back here.”

  “It is Wednesday. I am one day closer to Zan. She is coming here on Friday and I am very much looking forward to it.”

  “I suppose it was inevitable,” Pellus said with a weary exhalation. “You want her and you will have her. I just hope you are prepared to deal with the fallout.”

  Barakiel glowered. “She is not like the other women. To be with her feels like home.”

  Pellus wished he could un-hear what he had heard.

  Guardian save me. Is he falling in love with her? This is unprecedented. This is terrible.

  “Please, try to keep your head.” Pellus exuded his best air of calm reason. “As your power grows, I know you feel the impulse to share it, but think about what you are doing. You cannot make a home with this woman. The Council is willing to overlook a little fun, but a relationship with a human is against Covalent Law. If you allow this to become serious, they will imprison you.”

  Barakiel snorted. “How would they know?”

  “I am not the only traveler who can come here,” Pellus said, his eyes darkening. “I would not put it past them to spy on you.”

  “Eh, so what? They could fling me into the deepest pit and it could not be worse than this acid loneliness.” Barakiel strode to the window and yanked open the curtain. “They banished me from Covalent society. I see no reason I should obey their laws. I will live my life.”

  “You have been living your life. What about your friends with the orchestra?”

  “It is hardly the same.” Barakiel’s voice fell low. He stared out at the late afternoon. Pellus never knew what to do when the deadly warrior turned vulnerable. He always felt like he was failing him somehow.

  “I never stop trying to convince them that your exile is unnecessary. Never,” Pellus said.

  “I know, my friend.” Barakiel grimaced, although Pellus thought it had been an attempt at a smile. “But you will never succeed so long as I am Lucifer’s son.”

  “That is exactly why you must be careful!” Pellus threw up his hands. “Do you want to give Abraxos the satisfaction of casting you into the Wasteland Dungeons? If it was up to him, you would be dead. He would have had you killed as soon as you showed the slightest chance of being as powerful as your father. Abraxos fears you will join Lucifer, and he is not the only one who fears this. If not for Ravellen and your mother’s other allies on the Council, he would have his way.”

  “I know all that, Pellus. I know that you and Ravellen have protected me my whole life out of
love for my mother and at great risk to yourselves.” Barakiel walked over to put his hand on the adept’s arm. “I am more grateful than I can show, but I want this. I want Zan, and demon take the consequences. Abraxos may find I am harder to kill than he thinks.”

  Pellus studied the warrior’s determined face. More than 4,000 phases had passed since he and Ravellen persuaded the Council to allow Barakiel to fight from exile. They should have known this limited duty would satisfy him for only so long. They were lucky he listened to anyone.

  All I can hope is that this relationship does not become a disaster.

  “Just mind yourself, please,” Pellus said. “Proceed cautiously. Will you do that, at least?”

  “I am afraid cautious does not describe the way I am feeling.”

  The streets teemed with people out enjoying the warm evening, sitting on stoops or talking in groups by the bodegas on the corners. Occasionally someone would shout a greeting out to Elena as she and Zan walked to the bar a young man had told them about the week before. Zan mused over her luck. When she’d asked Philly PD for a contact, she didn’t expect to get someone so trusted in the neighborhood.

  The bar owned by Hernan Gutierrez was a festive little place. Lights strung along the back mirror reflected cheerfully off rows of bottles stacked three deep. Bright-colored posters from countries of origin covered every inch of the walls. For Mr. Gutierrez—or Mr. Hernan, as everyone called him—that country was Honduras, although his clientele was as varied as the neighborhood.

  Elena inquired after Mr. Hernan with the bartender. He came out of the back, a short barrel-chested man with a chubby face who grinned so infectiously it made Zan grin as well. Elena said her niceties in Spanish and introduced Zan.

  “Nice to meet you, miss, but I think we should not mention it again, who you are. Bad for business, right?” He chortled and asked them to follow him to the office in the back. It was packed floor to ceiling with plastic containers, but the desk was neat. “Sorry I have no seats to offer you, ladies, but at least it’s quiet.”

  Wasting no time, Elena asked Zan for the photograph of the dead man. She spoke Spanish to Mr. Hernan. Zan could only assume she thought it was better for him to hear the story in his native language. Mr. Hernan stopped grinning. He took the photo from Elena and surveyed it with a horrified look.

  “Yes, I know him. Emanuel Morales, from El Salvador. He used to come here all the time. He had a problem, you know, with the drinking,” Mr. Hernan paused and closed his eyes. “Vaya con Dios, Mani.”

  Zan glanced at Elena, who took her meaning. “Would you be willing to answer a few questions about him, Mr. Hernan?”

  “Whatever will help,” he said. Zan asked if he remembered the last time he had seen Mr. Morales. He was not certain, but he thought not since last summer. Mani used to come in with a group of friends. They all worked at a fancy Center City restaurant, but Mani had been fired from that job. Then he stopped coming around. Mr. Hernan asked his friends once. They said Mani had been kicked out of his boarding house because he couldn’t pay and they didn’t know what had happened to him.

  Mr. Hernan didn’t know where Mani had lived, but he said he would ask the friends when he saw them next. They still came in.

  “That would be extremely helpful,” Zan said. “One last thing. Did Mr. Morales seem like he was involved in anything bad? Something that would get him killed?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I don’t think Mani would do anything like that. He was a quiet man, gentle. It was hard for him, this life here. Hard for him to leave his home and work all the time.”

  “I can only imagine,” Zan said. “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time, Mr. Hernan. Thank you very much for your help. May I call you in a week or two to find out if his friends knew where he lived last?”

  “Yes, miss. Feel free. I would like to know what happened to Mani.”

  Friday. Finally Friday. Zan’s work week had been so intense that she’d managed to restrict her thinking about Rainer to when she was lying in her bed at night, but oh, how she’d thought about him then. Now, the time had come. In a fit of uncertainty, she was getting on her own nerves.

  Should I dress up? No, no, people don’t dress up to eat in. Maybe I’ll wear jeans. But then he’ll think I didn’t make an effort. Maybe I’ll wear a dress. What if he thinks I’m trying too hard? Oh, for fuck’s sake. I need to make up my goddamn mind.

  Zan hated falling into this kind of nonsense, but the week had seemed so long. Their time together on the boat seemed less real each day. She forced herself to settle on a simple mauve dress paired with a sharp leather jacket. She refused to look at herself again. Clearly, this man was making her mental.

  On the drive over she blasted music, trying to distract herself. At a red light, she held her hand up to her eyes. Her normally rock-steady hand was shaking.

  What the hell is wrong with you, O’Gara? He’s just a man. Just an exquisite man who is going to peel off your dress and run his beautiful hands lightly down your back.

  Okay, that’s a good way to get in an accident.

  She gripped the wheel and concentrated on the road. Before long, she was standing at his door. She rang the bell.

  Rainer let her in with a sultry hello. She couldn’t see him well at first because of the low light. The fireplace had a nice blaze going. Flames danced light off the mosaic above the mantle, but the track lighting in the kitchen was dim. When her eyes adjusted and she could see him looking at her, she forgot all about the pastries she had brought. She forgot about the light and her clothes and dinner and breathing.

  Oh god, please touch me. Touch me now.

  She dropped her pastries on the floor, rushed to him, and raised her hands to his face. He enveloped her in his arms, kissing her greedily and exploring her body. Zan turned her mouth over to him and put her hands under his untucked shirt. When she felt his skin a rolling tingle made its way up her arms. She moved her hands over his strong back. Rainer inhaled deeply as he pressed his face to her hair.

  “Slowly, I want to go slowly,” he whispered. “I want to savor you.” He moved behind her and slipped his fingers under the collar of her jacket, running his hands along her shoulders as he removed it. He faced her again, his eyes reflecting the warm light. Softly, he kissed her, before tracing his fingers gently down her face and neck. He ran one hand down her back and pressed her close. She arched against him as he encircled her with his other arm. He tilted her back and licked the little hollow at the base of her throat.

  “Mmmmmm, Zan.”

  “Do that again,” she said. Rainer complied, licking and nuzzling her neck and returning to her mouth, kissing and nibbling her lips while he slowly unzipped her dress. Zan unbuttoned his shirt. When her dress fell to the floor he removed her bra and pressed her to him. The feel of his skin on her breasts sent a flutter between her legs. She swayed slightly while he kissed her, long and deep. She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. Rainer’s growl began very low, building to a vibration she could feel in every inch of her body.

  When they had removed the rest of their clothing they stood looking at each other in the firelight.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said. Speechless for a moment, she regarded him, a body both muscular and lithe, at ease with the consciousness of strength.

  “So are you,” she whispered. Rainer placed his hands on her thighs and moved them around, pulling her to him. She felt him throbbing against her. He kissed her neck, softly bit her, and growled again.

  That is so fucking sexy.

  He surprised her then, deftly picking her up and holding her breasts to his mouth, tenderly sucking and licking her nipples. He held her completely suspended without the least bit of effort. She spread her arms behind her when a wave of delicious lust traveled up from within, making her body strain.

  Setting her on the couch by the fire, Rainer knelt. He ran his hands along her thighs, pulling her slightly off the cushion as he kissed her breasts. He pushed
his tongue against her nipples and slowly circled before dropping to plunge his tongue into her navel, humming his pleasure in the task. His hands never ceased to flow along her skin, exploring her contours, flitting softly along the V of her pubic hair, making Zan squirm. He slid his hands down to her knees and spread her legs, leaned slowly in, kissing and gently biting the velvety insides of her thighs. She could feel his breath on her and her pelvis surged forward as if it had a mind of its own. He began to slowly lick her skin.

  Oh please oh please oh god. Stop teasing me.

  He pressed his wet, soft mouth into her cleft and gently explored, one hand drifting up her side to caress her breasts as he murmured small sounds of satisfaction. She threw her head back and moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair. As his tongue massaged her, he reached beneath her and held her to him as she undulated with pleasure. She couldn’t help herself.

  No man has ever touched me like this.

  When he pushed his mouth snug into her, rapidly flicking his tongue, she convulsed in orgasm, writhing as the waves took her. Rainer accepted what she gave him. Her orgasm lasted longer than she thought possible. When the waves had subsided, he slid back up her body and whispered, “You are delicious.”

  You are unreal.

  He gathered her in his arms and pulled her down with him on the couch, pressing her body to his. His cock pulsed against her, right on the verge of where it belonged. He kissed her and caressed her arms.

  I need him to put it in me.

  “Do, uh, do you have a condom?” Her heart was beating so fast and hard she felt out of breath. He sat up and reached into the end table to produce a condom in its packet. He handed it to her.

  “Would you like to put it on?” His eyes burned with lust. Zan felt like it was raining all over her like sparks from a steelworks. It felt wonderful. She opened the packet and unfurled the condom over all his uncircumcised glory.