Fresh clean air swept down the steps, and Nicolas paused to savor it.
“Move!”
Shoved from behind, he stumbled toward the doorway.
“They’re in there. Don’t try to escape.”
Nicolas shared a quick curious glance with his brother, then stepped into the room.
Two people waited inside.
Nicolas’s gaze landed first on a woman swathed from head to foot in a dark cloak. She held a thin veil over her face. Only her almond-shaped brown eyes were visible. He was put to mind of the Saracens’ women. Beautiful, mysterious creatures who smelled of sandalwood and exotic perfumes. As this one did. His sex stirred, and he shifted his stance.
Wide-eyed and curious, her gaze swept over him, pausing on the wayward flesh that strained against the threadbare cloth covering his groin.
His chin lifted at her immodest stare.
Amusement glinted in her eyes, and she turned to his brother. A quick sweep of her dark lashes, and then she turned to glance back at the man standing behind her. She nodded slowly.
Only then did Nicolas recognize the man behind her. “Simon!” he gasped.
Simon Jameson strode toward Nicolas, opening his arms to give him a strong hug. He pulled back and kissed both his cheeks, seemingly impervious to the stench.
He offered the same to Armand, but his embrace wasn’t quite as warm. Nicolas and Simon had forged a bond deep as any two who’ve fought with their backs to each other in a pitched battle.
“You are looking well.” Nicolas murmured, not mentioning that Simon must have recanted early in the Inquisition.
Simon’s cheeks were tanned, his brown hair sun-streaked, his scent fresh and healthy. “I am well and just returned from Palestine.”
“You went back? Why? I thought you’d enough of sand and heat.”
“I returned for something more important than my comfort.”
Nicolas held his gaze, knowing there was more to what he said, but aware of the ears pressed to the door outside the small room.
For the first time in months, his senses sharpened, his mind settling on something…intriguing. “Why are you here?”
“I would like to offer you and your brother a chance to escape this hell.”
Nicolas sighed, trying to dampen the hope starting to knot his stomach. He’d had so many disappointments. “We will not recant.”
“You will not be required to.”
“But how? Father Guillaume will never agree to free us.”
“He is willing to turn a blind eye if you are willing to undertake a solemn duty—one approved by Pope Clement.”
Nicolas’s interest was piqued. “I take it this will be a dangerous undertaking?”
“Perilous to your lives and your souls,” Simon whispered.
While Armand and Nicolas stood in stunned silence, Simon told them of a sarcophagus he’d retrieved from Palestine that imprisoned a demon.
Nicolas silently scoffed, no longer believing in heaven or hell—or creatures more cruel and deadly than kings and Popes who betrayed men for power and wealth. But he listened, recognizing a chance for freedom—one his zealot of a brother would embrace.
“You will be guardians of a monster who can never be released.”
“His jailers?” Nicolas asked. “Does he really need that when he’s sealed inside a coffin?”
“He’s devious. Not easily confined. And immortal.”
Immortal? Another myth. Nicolas could see the jaws of their trap yawning wide. How simple just to agree. “Why us?” he had to ask.
“Because I trust you.”
Nicolas shook his head. There had to be more. “Why choose Templars? Why my brother and I?”
“Because you are loyal to each other. Loyal to your Order. Willing to sacrifice.” Simon’s gaze seemed to reach inside him. “I know you don’t believe me, Nic, but I can save you. We were friends, and I know enough about you to trust that if you say yes,” he said, his gaze sliding to Armand, “you will never abandon your oath.”
Armand nodded. “For a just cause, I would agree—and so long as I do not have to recant my vows to my Order.”
“I will not ask that, but there is one stipulation.” Simon looked to the woman.
Her black eyelashes lowered, and her head canted. A dark, slyness entered her gaze.
Nicolas stiffened. Would the price be too high after all?
“You will not have to recant,” she said, her soft musical tones rang with a steely authority, “but you will have to give up your life…as you know it now. This will be the least of the trials you will face.”
Simon drew a deep breath, his lips tightening. “Nicolas, may I introduce you to Ina—”
“You must give up your vow of celibacy,” the woman interrupted. “Will you do that?”
Her voice wrapped around him, cloying, enslaving. Nicolas felt a moment’s alarm at her unusual allure. His body tightened as it had not in years. “As long as my brother does not have to, I’m willing.”
“Her name is Inanna,” Simon said, a hint of warning giving an edge to his voice.
Nicolas swept away his concern, so enraptured was he becoming to the sensual promise glittering in her dark eyes.
Inanna let go of the veil, allowing it to fall away from her face.
His breath caught and held, so stunned was he by her beauty. His body stilled; his cock filled fast.
He’d been right about her origins. Dusky, creamy skin, full red-brown lips that stretched wide as he stared. Her face was a perfect, delicate oval.
Her amusement was matched by the flare of arousal he sensed in her deepening breaths and flaring nostrils.
They became lovers before she gave him to Anaïs.
Present Day
Chessa stirred, wakening slowly as fingers softly glided up her belly and cupped a bare breast.
Nic. She rolled, trying to snuggle closer despite the muggy heat in the apartment, but he slipped away. Not willing to open her eyes and lose the lazy lassitude that gripped her, she drew up her knees, determined to sleep a few minutes longer.
However, strong hands gripped her thighs, tugging them down, pulling her body to lie on her back. Then his heavy body came over her, settling softly on top of her.
She squinted and wrinkled her nose, pretending an annoyance she didn’t feel. “I was sleeping.”
“Now you’re not.” His face, shadowed by the deepening darkness of the room, hovered just above hers.
“I ache. You were a little rough.” Not that she truly minded. She just didn’t want him to know how much she’d liked the way he’d taken her—roughly, possessively. Already her body blossomed with a fragrant heat he couldn’t miss.
One of his large, slightly roughened palms cupped her cheek. “If I tell you I’ll be gentle this time…”
“I won’t believe you. Gentle isn’t in your repertoire.”
“You think I’m incapable of gentleness?”
“Where I’m concerned, yes.” And she was glad of it.
“Shall I prove you wrong?” His voice slid as softly over her as the caress of his palm to her cheek.
Something new? A wicked torture she’d endure before he unleashed his passion? Chessa turned to press a kiss into that wide palm. “I’m ready to be surprised,” she whispered.
“This isn’t a game. I’m not playing.” His thumb brushed lightly over her lip.
Faint alarm rang inside her. He sounded so serious, but she wasn’t ready for the next “stage” of their relationship, whatever that might be. “Just fuck me,” she said, surprised by the tremor in her voice.
“You play at being so tough. Why?”
“Who’s playing? It’s who I am.”
“Liar,” he whispered. Then his mouth came down on hers. But instead of a deep, demanding kiss, his lips glided once, then lifted.
She raised her head off the pillow, unwilling to let go. Her mouth pressed hard to his, trying to incite his desire. His cock stirred against her bel
ly and triumph filled her.
But he lifted away, leaving the invitation of her lips and moved down her body, his mouth landing on her chin and following the deep curve of her neck down her chest to the slope of her breast. He nuzzled her nipple before tracing a slow, wet circle around its circumference.
Confused and growing angry, Chessa gripped his hair hard and pulled. Tenderness wasn’t what she wanted—wasn’t something she’d accept from him.
A growl erupted, vibrating on her breast and she gasped, clasping her thighs together at the answering ache. “Dammit, Nic! Suck it hard.”
The tip of his tongue lapped around the tip of her nipple, just a soft, teasing caress—nothing like the biting, animal frenzy she’d come to expect.
She pulled his hair again. “I never expected you’d bore me,” she groused.
His hands shot up and grabbed her thumbs in his hair, pulling them back until she winced and let go. Then he raised his head.
His expression was dark as the thunderclouds had been a day ago.
Inwardly she sighed. She had him now.
His cock jerked against her tummy. “Think you can manipulate me so easily?”
“Of course not,” she lied, breathless as she waited for him to unleash his anger all over her.
His jaw tightened, and the look in his eyes, for just a second, revealed a bleakness, a sadness she felt all the way to her stone-cold heart. He rolled away and sat on the edge of the bed. “We should dress. We have to leave soon.”
Wondering what the hell had just happened, Chessa blinked away the moisture welling in her eyes. Damn him.
Knowing she’d disappointed him somehow, she watched as he rose and picked up clothing from the jumble of clothes on the floor.
She ached all over. Her ass was sore from the wild reaming he’d given her before. Her pussy was swollen and wet from unabated arousal.
Her chest tightened, and her anger spiked higher. Quietly, she left the bed and stalked him. When he turned, she sank on her knees in front of him and grasped his cock.
“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding tired.
“What do you think? You’re the one who woke me up. If you don’t take care of me, I’ll have to jump the first man I meet.”
“I’m not going to fuck you.”
“What if I fuck you?”
His stillness told her he was listening. She’d never initiated sex with him. His hands settled on his hips as his expression hardened. “I don’t want to be jerked off.”
“What do you want?”
“To fuck your mouth.”
Her nod was quick, sharp. “Okay.”
“I won’t get you off afterward. This isn’t quid pro quo.”
Nicolas had never left her wanting before. She counted on the fact he wouldn’t start now. Planning to drive him out of his mind, she cupped his balls with one hand and trailed her tongue down his cock.
She gasped when his fingers threaded through her hair and tugged hard. Her mouth open, she let him guide her up his cock to the blunt, thick tip.
Quivering with rage, she understood now. No games. No reciprocal expectation of release.
He really was going to fuck her mouth and leave her wanting. With tears pricking her eyes, she opened wide and accepted the long glide of his cock as he pushed inside, sliding over her tongue and deep into her throat.
Without a demur, she relaxed the back of her throat and let him enter deeply, taking all of him, fighting the urge to gag and wondering what he’d do if she threw up on him.
Probably wouldn’t faze him a bit. Hard, rigid anger radiated from his body as he stroked in and out.
The sharp, manly scent of his cock and balls nearly made her weep, so strong was the arousal building in her body. She settled her aching pussy on one heel and rubbed, trying to ease her arousal as he pumped into her mouth. When his strokes quickened and his breaths grew harsh, she cupped his balls again and squeezed gently, encouraging him to come.
His hands tightened around her skull and he sharpened his strokes just before salty, musky cum jetted onto the back of her tongue. “Dieu! Fuck!”
She swallowed, greedy for the taste, her throat clasping around the head of his cock as he came.
When he’d finished, he let go of her and backed away from her mouth. “Do you have a toy?”
“A toy?” she asked, feeling a little dim-witted with her overwhelming arousal. She licked her lips and gave him a helpless stare.
“A sex toy. I know you have them.”
Beneath the biting edge of his anger, her confusion cleared. Of course, she did. She’d avoided sex with men for years, but she hadn’t been able to resist altogether relieving that particular hunger.
Rising unsteadily from her feet, she circled him, heading to her nightstand and pulled out her bottom drawer. He reached around her, stirring her collection of dildos and vibrators until he found what he wanted.
A small silver bullet. Her favorite. Five speeds—from a gentle humming pulse to a raucous, roaring vibration that never failed to get her off.
“The remote?”
Her hand shook as she dug for it and handed it over.
“Go pee, but don’t flush. There’s no water pressure left.”
Obediently, she headed to the bathroom and lifted the lid, settling down to relieve herself.
Nicolas entered, standing by the door.
“I need a little privacy,” she gritted out.
“There’s nothing you won’t share with me.”
Except tenderness.
She left it unsaid, but let her flow fill the basin while she glared daggers.
When she stood, he stepped close and lifted his hand between her legs, inserting the cool egg-shaped metal object into her vagina. “No underwear. And you can’t take it out.”
“It’ll fall out. I won’t remember to squeeze.”
“Sure you will.” He hit the remote button and a gentle throb tightened her inner muscles.
God, she was gonna kill him before the night was over.
Nicolas felt a smile tug at his lips, but tightened his mouth. Chessa looked ready to skin him.
With her mouth still swollen from being stretched around his cock, he felt a deep satisfaction that he’d managed to restrain himself from taking her to the floor and fucking her hard the way she’d practically begged him to.
But she had a lesson to learn. He wouldn’t accept any rebellion from her. Nothing withheld. Not her body, not her emotions.
If she couldn’t give either freely, he’d force her to accept everything she needed—from him. Her eyelids drifted down and a whimper tore from her.
He slid the dial of the remote to “off.”
Her eyes slammed open. Rage burned in two hot, twin circles on her cheeks. She jerked past him and entered the bedroom, muttering as she drew clothes from her closet and tossed them on the messy bed.
Nicolas drew a washcloth from the cabinet and poured water from a bottle he’d taken from her refrigerator then tapped the dispenser to add a dab of rose-scented soap. “You need to bathe before we go out,” he said, as he stepped behind her.
Her back stiffened. “I’ll take a shower at the station.”
“You aren’t stepping outside that door smelling like sex.”
“I thought you liked that, seeing as I smell like you.”
“It’s not just my scent all over you.”
“Give me the goddamn cloth,” she snarled and reached for the cloth in his hand.
He held it above his head and waited until she realized he wasn’t done.
Her eyes closed and her whole body trembled, but she stomped her feet, widening her stance—giving him the access he demanded.
The first touch of the cold cloth to her hot, swollen cunt left her gasping.
Nicolas knelt in front of her, opening her lips with his fingers and washed her slowly, dragging the rough terry cloth over her tender flesh.
Her legs trembled, and her breaths gusted softly. When he
r hips began to follow his slow, sliding circles, he stopped and efficiently washed the insides of her thighs. “Turn around,” he said, forcing his voice to remain light.
When she turned, he spread her cheeks and washed between them, spending more time than necessary to cleanse her delicate little asshole.
His cock jerked, filling between his legs, but he ignored his own arousal and tossed the cloth into the bathroom behind him. “Get dressed,” he said, this time not able to hide the hoarseness of his tightening throat.
They had work to do tonight. A demon to capture.
That he planned to teach her a little lesson about obedience along the way was just…icing.
CHAPTER
7
Chessa was slipping her belt through the loops of her jeans, doing her best to ignore Nicolas’s brooding presence, when the doorbell rang.
Before she could raise an objection to his highhandedness, Nicolas flung it open.
Alex stood on the threshold, his eyes lighting first on Nic, his gaze sweeping down Nicolas’s bare chest. Then he glanced beyond, raising an eyebrow at Chessa.
She had to hand it to him, he didn’t blink an eye at further evidence of her lurid life. Lord, he had to think she was a total slut. He’d never believe in a million years that before a few days ago, she’d been sexless for a decade.
Not that she cared what he thought.
She buckled her belt and sat on the edge of her sofa to pull on her leather boots. “Wasn’t expecting you here, Alex, and I know I didn’t give you my address.”
“Byron gave it to me, along with a satellite radio. That way we won’t have to check in.” He walked past Nicolas without another glance and flopped down on the chair beside her.
Byron? She didn’t call her boss that even after all the years she put on the force. Not that she’d ever looked to be bosom buddies with the man. “What couldn’t wait?” she asked, leaning back to pull the second boot over her heel.
“Another murder. This one’s more interesting. Your ‘family’ man needs to have a look,” he said, lifting his chin toward Nicolas.
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