CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nick studied the golden glass sphere in his palm.
Though doubtful on exactly how it might guide him to Abia, he was following her whispered instructions.
Just hold it.
The size of a baseball, he curled his fingers around the sphere. Immediately, it grew warm and glowed, somehow urging him from the palace suite where he’d lived the past week.
He’d been granted unlimited access to the castle’s interior, and Abia had assured him other mystics wouldn’t notice he wasn’t one of them unless they cast a specific Power Revelation spell, which they’d hardly have reason to do to a man who’d been given such privileges.
The ball urged him down the hall to the right, then a sharp left turn halfway down and up several sets of staircases.
After admitting to his multi-layered investigative technique, he had a brief concern that she might lead him to a dragon’s lair or something equally terrifying, but the memory of their sizzling kiss kept his feet moving where the ball directed.
He’d never been inside Abia’s suite of rooms, though he knew she was housed near the Queen. Until his impulsive kiss earlier, she’d treated him with professional respect and a certain amount of distance. Since all his waking moments had been consumed with his training or working with the spell tracking team, he’d managed to tamp down his hunger for her.
But the thrill over the scepter hunt had overwhelmed his senses—or maybe it had been her cleavage peeking over her deep red ruffled blouse. Certainly too much work, coupled with erotic dreams when he managed to catch a couple hours of sleep, equaled low tolerance in her presence.
He’d never before been tempted to grab a colleague during an investigation. (Though, admittedly, most of his partners had been men, and he didn’t swing that way.) But he’d always prided himself on devotion to the job, to giving everything he had to the victims he’d been charged with finding justice for.
Should he lift one above all others?
Maybe not, he acknowledged, as the sphere urged him to stop at a plain wooden door. But, given his need for Abia, he didn’t see how he had a choice.
As he lifted his hand to knock on the door, the wood dissolved, and the golden ball rose, spun and exploded like a firework. When the lights cleared, Abia stood in front of him.
Her deep red hair flowing to her waist, she wore a long, clingy sapphire blue satin gown with a slit nearly to her hip. More lingerie than clothes. His knees grew weak at the sight.
“Wow,” he stammered. “You’re—”
She threw her arms around his neck, her lips fusing with his.
Perfect, he finished, gliding his hand down her silky hair and clutching her against him.
Locked together, they shuffled toward the bedroom, where he glimpsed an old fashioned, four-poster bed with gauzy curtains of blue, green and purple cascading from the top railing to the floor before she tugged him to the mattress, and the hangings surrounded them, enclosing them in another world.
He stripped off her gown and tossed it on the floor, followed by his own clothes. Apparently not in the mood to dawdle, she provided condoms—purple, naturally—and welcomed him into her body with a throaty sigh that intensified the need shimmering through his body.
Her figure was trim and muscular, her skin silken perfection, her hair spread around her head like a fiery halo. As he moved, her hardened nipples brushed his chest, and her eyes darkened to fathomless pools of green. She clutched him to her as his strokes inflamed her need. An answering burn smoldered in his belly. He gritted his teeth to keep from coming.
He wanted her to crave him as much as he did her. He wanted his name on her lips as she peaked.
Clutching her hips, he shifted the angle of his thrusts, driving deeper, with long, hard strokes. Every move clenched her inner walls around his erection. She met him with crashing need. She took utter possession of him.
She arched her back and wrapped her legs around him, capturing him, holding him, urging him. “Faster,” she breathed.
Sweat broke on his brow as he increased his pace.
“Damn, that’s—” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers sinking into his hair, her body pulsing around his erection in unmistakable ecstasy. “Dear spirits...Nick.”
Her climax inspired his. Every hair on his body rose instantly as the explosion rocked him. He relished everything she offered as much as he gloried in his own surrender.
Breath heaving, he collapsed on top of her.
Her heart hammered beneath his ear. “Absolute pleasure.”
He found the strength to smile, and since her breast was so easily accessible, he moved aside her silky hair and pressed a kiss to her smooth skin. Part of him, he knew, clung to her as a lifeline for the wild changes in his life. But he also acknowledged the changes she’d brought about weren’t ones he could go back on.
He’d been a cynic about anything that didn’t fit in the practical world where he’d been raised. He’d become complacent with his job. He’d been bored easily by women.
“I’m still your supervisor, you know.”
You’re certainly not bored now.
Lifting his head, he laughed at her formal tone. Couldn’t they wallow in bliss another thirty seconds? “Yes, Commander,” he teased, saluting her.
“Sorry.” The flush on her cheeks deepened. “That was abrupt.”
When she didn’t elaborate, he propped himself on his side. Something in her eyes told him this wasn’t idle pillow talk. “There had to be a reason you said it.”
“I’m the Queen’s niece.”
“And she has a sexual code of conduct?”
“No, but I’m watched. As a member of the royal family and the leader of the IPSF.”
Relieved, Nick brushed his lips over hers. “I have no problem with discretion, Abia. If you want our relationship to remain private, then it will.” He glided his hand down her stomach, pausing before he delved between her thighs. “In the meantime, wanna play cop and prisoner?”
Heat filled her eyes. “Is that what you do with your lovers? Play games?”
“I do whatever they like.”
“I like sex to be impersonal.”
The woman must love throwing him off-balance. “How in the world do you manage that?”
“Carefully.” Her gaze held his. “I’m uncomfortable with loss of control.”
Since she’d lost control with him less than two minutes ago, he found this hard to believe. Could he possibly be the difference? She’d certainly changed him. “Intimacy can be stimulating.”
“Or career suicide.”
He dipped his fingers into her wet heat. “We can separate our jobs from this.”
Her eyes fluttered closed; pleasure danced across her face. “I’m not so sure.”
“Me either.” Nick flopped on the soft cotton pillow, tucking his hands behind his head. “But if you need to assert your dominance, I’m in your hands.”
~~~
Faced with the naked, sculpted length of Nick Westin, Abia didn’t precisely know where to start.
His body was like the warriors of the old days, when battling dragons were a rite of passage. Contrasting with her paleness, his swarthy skin glowed with vigor. Desire exploded from his gray eyes.
She licked her lips.
He groaned. “Please touch something.”
Startled by the sound of his deep voice, she glided her hands across his chest. So broad and smooth, with a light sprinkling of dark hair in the center. His muscles twitched in response to her touch.
She liked having him at her disposal. Her past lovers had either been selfish royals or intimated by her title. But she met Nick on an equal plane.
It was a stimulating thought.
Moving her hands down the sculpted muscles of his stomach, she was emboldened by his growing erection. With a single fingertip, she stroked him.
He tensed, sucking in air between his teeth. But he didn’t shift his position. He let her
explore, let her take control.
She cupped him fully, sliding her hand down, then up to the reddened crown and gloried in the way his muscles stiffened and his breathing became choppy. Repetitive strokes made him moan.
Pleased with his excitement, she gave him a long, hard kiss before she tortured him by slowly rolling on protection.
Still, he didn’t shift his hands from behind his head.
Though the veins in his neck stood out with the strain of holding back, he let her sink onto him, joining their bodies, sending shivers of delight down her spine.
She rocked, glorying in the pressure on her inner walls, thrilled even more by the dark smoke in Nick’s eyes. He let her set the pace, and kept his hands to himself with such infinite control, she finally grabbed his wrists and placed them on her hips.
He lifted her, then shoved her down again, and his erection pushed deeper, causing her to clench around him and a cry of pleasure to explode from her throat.
Harder was his unspoken plea.
Need was overtaking her senses.
She leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head, changing the angle, increasing her speed.
The shift touched off the beginning of an orgasm that shot through her like quicksilver. Arching her back, she pressed down with all her strength, desperate to catch the trail.
Nick must have felt her combination of pleasure and frustration as he squeezed her hips and drove upward.
Her once-subsiding pulses rose, and she climaxed with greater force. Bracing her hands against his stomach, she rode the high of delight, knowing this bond between them, and the depths it might travel, would change her life forever.
Nick’s muscles clenched as he followed her into ecstasy. She matched his rapid, deep-thrust rhythm and enjoyed his pleasure as much as her own.
Was this the intimacy Nick claimed existed? Was such a thing possible between a Crossover and a witch? Could they straddle two worlds as easily as they straddled each other?
Trembling with satisfaction, she slumped forward onto his heaving chest, where his heart beat, strong and sure.
~~~
“I still haven’t seen the outside of this place.”
Weak and bleary-eyed, Abia lifted her head to stare at Nick. “Huh?”
He kissed her, lingering to the point her body, miraculously, stirred for him again.
What magic did he possess that she didn’t understand? Why him? Why now?
Her uncle might know the answers, but Great Merlin, she wasn’t, ever, ever going to ask him to clarify the phenomenon.
“Let’s take a walk,” she said as she leaned back, her senses buzzing. “I need to clear my head.”
“We might be seen.”
“Not this time of night.” Realizing how that sounded and seeing the brief tic of disappointment on his face, she added, “It’s your safety I’m concerned with, not my carnal reputation.”
“You have a carnal reputation?”
“Sure.” She scooted off the bed and headed toward the bathroom. “Palace gossip is practically a royally-sanctioned sport.”
After braiding her tangled hair (somebody really might see them, after all) she dressed in a pair of fitted black trousers, pleated teal blouse and cropped jacket.
Nick appeared in the doorway wearing his worn jeans and black t-shirt.
“We’re going to have to do something about your wardrobe.” She waved her wand and transformed his clothing to charcoal pinstriped pants, crisp white shirt and a matching pinstriped vest.
“Really?” he complained, holding out his arms. “I look like a Dickens’ character.”
She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. “I think you look rather smart,” she said, though she selfishly preferred his caporal clothes. There was something raw and compelling about them, much like the man who wore them.
“Mystics dress like this” —he twisted his wrist to view his watch—“at two a.m.?”
“Ones who want to blend do.” She linked hands with him, and he squeezed her palm in return. To remind her of their connection, or acceptance of her logic?
Regardless, they next appeared in the shadows of the door outside the palace’s rear east entrance.
The winding Mystic River, azure during the day, had turned sapphire under the blackened, star-strewn sky. Glowing lanterns dotted the smooth stone path bordering the water.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Like the Caribbean sea.”
“I’m glad you approve, since we have to cross it to get a good view of the castle.”
She headed for the bridge, and unbelievably passed a member of her team on the way. “Commander,” Suman said, nodding. His gaze dropped briefly to her and Nick’s joined hands. “Lieutenant.”
“Showing Nick the grounds,” Abia said, hating the urge to explain.
“Have a good evening.”
“Is he the ex-lover who betrayed you?” Nick asked when they moved on.
“I don’t sleep with members of my team.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Technically, you’re not on my team. You’re—” What he was precisely was a complete mystery to her. “Could we talk about something else?”
“How did the gold sphere you gave me know where to find you?”
“I encased a spell inside, one that would respond to your touch.”
“Sounds complicated.”
She actually knew of no one else who could perform anything similar, but she’d long ago stopped questioning her advanced abilities. They allowed her to do what was needed, and she admitted only to herself that she’d wanted to impress Nick with her talents.
He’d certainly impressed her with his.
“It’s convenient at times,” she said, her gaze drawn by the rocky shore on the other side of the bridge. Crystals had been placed around the boulders, highlighting their jagged edges.
Stability. Natural power and strength.
Yet, with her wand, she could lift them, drop them, make them explode. She was used to ruling her surroundings and her destiny.
Nick’s appearance had changed everything, made her vulnerable, and she wasn’t sure she liked the feeling.
CHAPTER TWELVE
As he and Abia exited the bridge, Nick turned to get his first full view of the castle.
Smooth, pale gray stone comprised the structure, dark red tiles the roof. Multiple turrets of varied heights showed off its massive proportions, and towers were topped by bronze spikes and colorful crystals. Golden light glowed through the windows. Sparkles bounced from seemingly everywhere but without a logical source. There was no doubt of its magical contents.
He stroked the small of Abia’s back. “Spectacular.”
“Better than the liberty statue?”
“Statue of Liberty,” he corrected.
The great lady of the harbor was something else entirely. A proud and dramatic symbol to be sure. But one from another world. Another...life.
“Not better,” he answered finally. “But certainly different.”
Beside the road, they passed a copse of tall plants with purple, pink, pale gray and white blooms. Drawn by their exotic shape and colors, Nick moved closer. Even a foot away, the amazing scent washed over him.
They smelled like Abia.
“Jaschids,” she said, running her finger across a lavender petal. “A cross between a jasmine and an orchid. The Queen’s landscaper was one of Malburn’s students and loves experiments.”
“And he made you lotion or perfume from the flower.”
“She. And yes to both. Even when you’re a kick-ass commander, sometimes it’s nice to smell like a girl.”
Nick brushed his lips across her temple. “Fine by me.”
She leaned into his touch briefly before pulling away. A metaphor for their relationship? There and gone in a blink?
“This is the merchant district,” Abia explained as she led him further down a deserted stone street that angled away from the river. “Families gathe
r here for dinner at restaurants or to buy goods from specialty shops. Bread, wine, cheese, fruits and vegetables can all be found nearby.”
Impressed by the carts and tidy shops down the lane, Nick had the impression of a small English village from the past, where neighbors helped each other and life was comforting and intimate.
New York City had more indifference, simply by the sheer numbers of people to deal with, the expense and hardships of living and working in the city. But many neighborhoods were as close-knit as any small-town community. “Where do the shop’s raw ingredients come from?”
“In the hills beyond the city, we have cattlemen who raise livestock. Farmers grow fruits and vegetables. We buy from caporal suppliers when needed.” She gazed in the direction of the hills she’d spoken of. “It’s a good, peaceful life most of the time.”
“One Gardiff’s threatening to spoil.”
“For something as petty as power.”
“You have power, were born to it, in fact. I imagine you’d never understand.” Her gaze came back to his when he paused. “I had to work for mine.”
“But you used it to help others.”
He’d been born to that, he supposed. “For some dominance is a drug, usually because their greatest fear is helplessness. They’ve been a victim themselves, so they have to make sure they never are again.”
“Super. Once we arrest him and throw him in the dungeon, you can have long talks with him about his pitiful formative years.”
“I’m not saying his past excuses his actions, only pointing out a likely source. Know your criminal, know your crime.” He kissed her lightly. “Besides, I’d rather celebrate his capture with you.”
Taking another cautious look around, she urged him down a side lane. “Let’s walk down to Giseppe’s. He’s closed, but he won’t mind if we use his view.”
After traversing a couple of alleys, they wound up back at the river-bordered street. The deserted wine and tapas bar she directed them to sported umbrella-topped patio seating, so he and Abia sat in the shadows, their hands linked beneath the table.
Though he didn’t need a silly social media post to broadcast the change in their relationship, he wondered how negatively their closeness might affect her “reputation,” despite her assurances that she didn’t care about the talk.
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