“An automaton from the Outremer.” Exeter added, “It is possible there is a flesh-and-blood maker who manipulated the—let’s call it a wraith—from a remote location like Paris.” He ordered another cognac.
Mia pressed her lips together and remained neutral. She was quite certain he was avoiding being alone with her. And yet, some part of her knew . . . it was all he could think about. The thought not only gave her comfort—but strength. Mia rose from her chair. “Might I have the key?” He shot up from his seat and handed over her request. “Take your time, perhaps you might enjoy a cigar in the lounge car . . .” Clasping the key, she smiled a patronizing, wifely sort of smile. “. . . darling.”
She made her way down a narrow aisle to the door that matched the number on the key fob. Weeks ago, America had cautioned her. “Men love the hunt—the chase, whatever you wish to call it. If you truly love him, don’t deprive Exeter of the joy of capturing you.” Esmeralda Parker had offered similar advice.
A silver half-moon illuminated the compartment interior as well as the passing countryside. Mia moved to the window. It would not be long now, they traveled on Le Train Bleu, a luxury French night express train that traveled from Calais to Paris and on to the French Riviera. If there were no delays, they would arrive in Paris before dawn.
As the train crossed over a river, the image of the moon traveled with them, reflected in the calm waters below. “The Seine is quite broad here.” Even though Exeter spoke softly, she started at his words.
Mia glanced back. “Rather stealthy of you.” She returned to the river. “I’m a bit jumpy tonight, I’m afraid.”
“Mia, I never expected last night to feel so . . .”
“Awkward?” she offered, cynically.
“Right.” He was close—so close the word warmed the tip of her ear. He wrapped an arm around her. “All morning I’ve had to fight off a reverie of licentious urges—thoughts that might consume me if I let them.”
She leaned back against his chest. “Undo me, Exeter.”
Long, tapered fingers patiently unbuttoned and removed her dress. She unbuckled her bustle and stepped out of silk petticoats. Silently, in the moonlight, they performed the kinds of duties a husband and wife traveling without servants shared—a delicious intimacy suffused the air. “And how are you both?” He asked softly.
She pivoted within his arms. “She is aroused.” A blush flamed up her neck. “As am I.” Exeter lifted her hand to his chin, and rubbed playfully. “Untie my cravat.”
Gas lamps from a passing rail station briefly lit the side of his face. His heavy-lidded, primitive gaze spoke of a wildness inside him that matched hers—something she hoped to let loose.
She slipped the tie from around his collar.
“Hand it to me.”
Her gaze lowered to his mouth. “Kiss me, first.” Even in the dark she knew he smiled as he tugged the neck cloth from her grip.
“I believe you do need to be kissed.” He pressed against her camisole and corset, and her nipples peaked. “Hands together—in front.” He wound the cloth around her wrists and then lifted her arms overhead. He tied the ends of the cravat to the brass rail of a luggage rack.
Loosing her pantalettes, he pushed them down an inch at a time, until they fell below her knees. He wrapped an arm around her waist and she lifted one leg, then the other, stepping out of silk drawers. His hands skimmed her naked hips and buttock cheeks. Cupping her bottom, he brought her pelvis against him and rubbed in a lazy way—back and forth, as he nuzzled her neck. “Open your legs.” He whispered his demand and inserted his leg between hers. “Wider, darling.”
As he massaged her bottom, a finger slipped down between her buttock cheeks. “I want to know exactly how hot you are right now.” Exeter reluctantly backed away. “I think it’s time I take your temperature.”
Mia blew a few stray hairs out of her face and glared. “Take my word for it—hot.” Exeter struck a match, lifting the chimney on a wall sconce. The compartment glowed with warm flickering light. He blew out the match. “Not that kind of hot—I want a reading on your internal body temperature.” Exeter opened his bag and removed several instruments. He poured rubbing alcohol over his fingers and dried his hands with a sterile cloth. He shook a long thin instrument several times and held it up to the light.
Her lower anatomy was completely exposed; all she wore was the briefest camisole, corset, and striped stockings. And another thing—she was quite sure she was wet—dripping wet.
He dipped the glass temperature gauge into ajar, then wiped it clean. Exeter turned and ran his gaze up silk stockings, stopping at the apex of her legs—the dark triangle of her sex. “If it makes you feel any better, Mia, you have aroused me to the point of agony.”
Good God—this was so disturbing and yet . . . she was also aroused.
He approached her slowly. “I intend to make this as pleasurable for you as possible.” He tilted her head and kissed her lips—teasing out her tongue, with soft pillowed kisses. His arms went around her and a slick finger moved down between her buttock cheeks, where he gently circled the small tight opening. Her knees trembled as his finger penetrated her anus. A wave of pleasure shuddered through her body.
Exeter angled back. “Now, open wide and lift your tongue.” He inserted the thermometer into her mouth and flipped open his pocket watch. “Five minutes—keep your mouth closed.” Glancing up, he smiled. “You were expecting something else?” Mia thought better of a glare, flicking her eyes upward and away from him.
“I realize this is difficult, but do keep in mind—you are not alone.” He moved up beside her, nearly straddling her hip. “As the pleasure climbs and you find yourself at the edge, try to use the last waves of pleasure as a release—from her. Use the power of your climax to settle her down.”
His hand traveled lower, past her navel and through her curls. Expert fingers parted her labia, while his other hand stroked her bottom. “Four minutes.” His words buffeted against her ear and she swayed against him—gyrating her hips—she couldn’t help it. He answered her with a deep groan, as two fingers circled her clitoris. His mouth grazed her neck even as his teeth ravaged her earlobe. “I am going to explore every intimate part of you.” His gruff promise sent a shudder of arousal through her. “And you are going to give me access.”
He tilted her backside toward him. “Open.” His hand moved between her legs from the rear, collecting the slick essence of her arousal. As he pressed against her hip, his fingers invaded, from both sides. Stroking from the front, he circled the throbbing center of her pleasure, while gently tracing the seam between buttock cheeks, a single digit played with the small sphincter muscle, creating such a pleasurable sensation Mia wanted to release a great hiss, or growl. Instead, she whimpered softly, barely able to hold the thermometer between her lips. My God, my God—Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!
Three minutes. Mon panthère. Exeter answered.
She understood his words, yet she was quite sure he hadn’t spoken. Mia’s heart raced at the thought. She was aware of his thoughts. She was also aware of those skillful fingers coaxing out more pleasure, making her belly tremble and her hips thrust. Exeter looked as though he might eat her alive, just as soon as he got his temperature reading.
“Two minutes.” A slick finger probed deeper. He stood beside her and seduced with every touch. “Come for me, Mia.” His hands stroked and then teased, deepening the intensity of her arousal. Exquisite pleasure danced along the edge of her climax. His finger delved deeper and then pulled out—playing with the ring of muscle at her opening—all the while his thumb circled her clitoris. N’arrêtez pas! Her thoughts warned him not to stop, as he brought her arousal to yet another level of intensity.
Less than a minute. Engulfed in pleasure and barely aware of the world, she thought she saw the expression on his face move from joyful to aroused lover as he witnessed her surrender. He massaged lightly through the bucking and shuddering of her climax.
As her though
ts gradually returned to the world, she opened her eyes. “She obeyed, Exeter.” Reverently, he leaned over and kissed a latent belly quiver.
Righting himself, he tugged on the thermometer. “Let go, Mia.” She had not realized how tightly she clenched the glass tube in her mouth. She relaxed her lips and he removed the instrument, squinting at the glass tube. “One hundred point four. Nearly two full points.”
She wondered if she should tell him about the telepathy. Was it mutual? He had seemed to comply earlier with her rather emphatic order not to stop. But, if this ability was mutual, he wasn’t saying anything either.
“Was that really about my temperature?” Her voice was husky, dry.
Exeter stared at her. She returned his stare—in fact, she squinted. She was hoping to hear his thoughts—find out if there were hidden motives. Nothing.
“Even as your lips quivered and your belly trembled, you remained in control and held her back.”
She thought he looked slightly amused. “I’m going to get you back for this, Exeter.”
His eyes lowered to her corset. “I very much hope so.” She glanced down and noted rosy tips peeking over the lacy edge of her camisole. She swallowed. It was suddenly so obvious; he wasn’t done yet. He dipped his head and ran his tongue over the mound of one breast—then the other.
The small hairs on her neck and arms stood on end—the whistle of the wind outside the compartment windows grew louder—until the wind whooshed and snapped against the side of the railcar. Two intense green lights beamed through the glass and moved through the small room. Whatever it was searched the compartment methodically.
Exeter.
Without a word, he reached up and untied her bindings. Find Jersey and Valentine. Stay with them—do not come after me.
The beams of light moved over scattered garments, stopping momentarily on the open medical bag. Exeter slipped over to the window and turned the latch. A blast of chill night air rushed into the compartment as he lowered the window—papers and clothing fluttered about the small space. He pulled himself through an open section of window.
Mia crouched between the berths and followed the dual shafts of light as they searched in vain. Exeter was gone.
Chapter Nine
EXETER DROPPED DOWN ONTO HIS HAUNCHES and let the bracing cold air revive his sensory faculties. Wispy tendrils under the apparition’s shredded cloak appeared first, then dual beams of green light. He traced the rays under the hood to orbs hidden under the shrouded head. His powers sensed cameras capable of transmitting images, not unlike the holograms Tim Noggy received from his brother.
The swath of light found him soon enough. It seemed to Exeter the staring contest went on interminably. He rose to his full height, only to be struck down by a wave of potent energy—a force that traveled within the energy field of the light rays.
The pair of beams swung back and forth, searching for others. Exeter studied the ephemeral creature. An automaton, of sorts. And very large. Exeter was nearly two inches over six feet, and this creature towered over him. He reached deep and drew in enough potent energy to stop a charging rhinoceros.
The blast sent the ominous visitor sliding back down the roof of the railcar. He walked through shredded tendrils of garment—the substance of which was not made of cloth but particles of matter in constant motion.
The strange golem whirred and clicked as it reassembled itself. This being was no messenger; it was some kind of scout. No doubt this creature had been sent by Prospero to test their strength. Exeter’s pulse quickened. He had a good idea who the technology wizard was interested in, and he wasn’t going to get her.
“I am Exeter.” He peered directly into the beams of light. “And who are you?”
He silently gathered energy into his celiac ganglia and waited. For a moment, the luminous eyes drew him in. He made out a nose, mouth, and chin—even a hint of ear as the creature turned to face him. “Miss Jones.” On several occasions, Exeter had heard the demonstrations of the phonograph—the voices tinged with metal and a crackling hiss—like now.
“I’m afraid Miss Jones was unable to travel. Her pregnancy is nearly full term. I wouldn’t allow—”
The blast hit his solar plexus region and knocked the breath from his diaphragm. Exeter crawled to his knees, gasping for air. Before he could stand, he took a second hit—a blow to his side, which rolled him far down the roof of the passenger car. Finally, air rushed back into his lungs and he rapidly gained enough strength to stagger to his feet. He turned around to face . . . three of the creatures, all identical in shape and size.
“Reinforcements? Rather flattering, wouldn’t you say?” When in doubt, use bravado. A valuable lesson he’d learned from Phaeton. Exeter shot a bolt of powerful energy at the trio and leapt into the air, over the trio of wraiths. He landed several feet behind them.
His attackers turned in unison. He was also aware of yet another presence—something moved behind him. It would appear he was surrounded. Exeter hurled a ball of potent energy at the hooded trio and readied to make another jump. A black shadow emerged from between railcars and leapt past his shoulder.
It was the panther. It was Mia.
Stunned, he watched the cat knock the creature over and rip off the cloak. Claws and fangs slashed into the downed wraith. Exeter let loose a blast of potent force, sending the others sliding across the narrow roofline. He leaned over the cat as she tore off the wraith’s hood, exposing a metal skull and skeletal body. I’ll bring them down—you take them out.
In answer, the cat raised her head and hissed.
An orb of violet-colored particles swirled larger and larger in his hand. Exeter opened his palm and fired the ball at one of the wraiths trying to crawl away. Mia sprang from one kill to the next, using her teeth and claws to rip off bony limbs, scattering them across the roof.
“Save one for us.” Jersey and Valentine landed on the roof with a thud. Daggers drawn, the mechanized knives unfolded into long swords, crackling with powerful aether.
Exeter nodded toward a wraith staggering upright at the end of the carriage. “You can have him.” While the Nightshades sliced and diced, he and Mia finished off the other.
The fray was over as quickly and unexpectedly as it had begun. Nothing but the wind and chug of the train through the darkness—and the clink of disintegrating body parts. Even after the wraiths had been chopped to bits, they continued to shiver and slither about the roof. He picked up a disembodied arm and tossed it over the side. Easing back onto his haunches, he watched Mia chew on a glowing green eye until the light faded. Tentatively, he reached out for the lens mechanism and her lip curled. Risking his fingers, he opened his palm. Long, ivory fangs glistened in the dark. She dropped the dead orb into his hand. Exeter smiled. “Come, pussy.”
The sleek panther rose, lifted a paw, then hesitated. Jersey and Valentine edged closer, swords drawn. He signaled the Nightshades to stand down. She crouched, before the pounce. Gleaming black fur gave way to pale flesh as the shift happened in midair. A black cat leapt and a beautiful young woman landed in his arms.
He cradled the trembling girl in his lap. She was in a cold sweat, and her teeth chattered. She opened glazed eyes that held his. “We got them, di-didn’t we?”
Against his orders she had come after him. He should be furious with her. Exeter took in the ethereal beauty of her pale face—so innocent, so fearless. “That we did, Mia.”
Had she shifted at will? Or had the cat escaped? He had experienced every mewling whimper of her climax—he was sure the cat had been tempered. Exeter lifted her in his arms. Was this unprovable therapy working or not? He was inclined to hope so—for Mia’s sake.
“Over here.” Jersey stood at a juncture between railcars. Exeter hugged her tight, and followed the Nightshades’ lead, descending to the coupler bridge. The bodyguards cleared the aisle in the sleeping car, stopping at their compartment door. “Bollocks, the key is inside,” Exeter grumbled.
“As our rot
und Australian friend would say—no worries.” Jersey fired up the tip of his blade and ran it down the seam in the door.
“And as Mr. Ping would say—‘Open, O’sesame.’ ” Exeter gave it a kick and stepped into their compartment.
He turned back briefly. “Where’s America?”
“We’ve got her locked away somewhere safe, and she’s not happy about it.” Jersey grinned.
“Seal us in.” Exeter shut the door and closed the window. Working methodically and quickly, he lay Mia on the narrow sleeper bed and covered her in blankets, adding an extra coverlet from the berth above. A bit of color returned to her cheeks, but she continued to shiver uncontrollably. What she needed was a warm bath.
His fingers flew through the buttons of his waistcoat. He removed his waistcoat and pulled his shirt off over his head. She needed heat, something that would penetrate the surface level and warm the deeper muscles and tissues. He shrugged out of his suspenders and removed his trousers and drawers. Lifting the sheets, he climbed into the berth and took her in his arms. “Wrap yourself around me—tightly.” He melded his body to hers and waited. Gradually, the shaking muscles quieted, and her supple body clung to him. He ran his fingers through a tangle of soft brown hair—sweeping the waves off her face. “There, Mia.”
Her eyes barely opened, but she smiled softly. “I’m so tired.”
“You often go right to sleep when you come back.”
“Mmm.” A sweet breath wafted over his shoulder. Her hand lay against his upper body and her fingers softly brushed his chest hair.
One extremity at a time, Exeter rubbed down every part of her body, while she drifted in and out of sleep. Though he had no watch, he pressed his lips against her jugular vein. Her pulse had gone from scarcely perceptible to strong and steady.
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