The sharpness of pain mixing with pleasure made her anticipation spike. She gripped his arm, tried to pull him closer, make him give her more. Excitement billowed within her, the last few hours had pushed her too far for caution or care. She moaned, shoving her hips forward to force him deeper inside her.
He groaned as he hilted himself in her pussy. “Jesus. Christ.”
“Hurry.” She rolled her pelvis, wanting more, craving it with a ferocity she hadn’t felt in damn near forever.
Drawing back until she felt the head of his cock catch on the edge of her channel, he plunged deep. Her nails bit into his bicep, but she didn’t protest the swiftness of his thrust.
No, it was exactly what she needed.
He kept up that rhythm, slowly withdrawing and then shoving back in. Her sex clenched each time he pushed into her, which made him groan, but he wasn’t going fast enough to tip her over into orgasm. She tightened her leg around his hip, tilting her hips to take him even deeper. “Faster. More.”
“Yes.” He shoved into her pussy, gave her what she demanded. His thrusts picked up speed and kept that intense force. He hit her in just the right spot each time. Moving with him was as natural as breathing, and her heart hammered so loudly she could hear its pounding in her ears.
The feel of his rougher skin against hers was erotic, and every time he entered her, a wave of magic blasted out of her, fire and lightning that arced and wound around them. His breathing hitched, but his movements remained steady, hard and fast and just what she needed to push her to the breaking point. Her nipples rasped against the hair on his chest, the stimulation perfect. When he rolled his pelvis against her clit, she mewed in delight.
“Jack!” She twisted against him, so close to that edge she could taste it.
He gripped her knee, pulling her even wider for his thrusts. “This is so fucking good.”
“Yes, yes!” And it was. Considering how long she’d been sexually active, that was really saying something.
Their skin slapped together with each movement, the mattress squeaking beneath them, sweat gliding down their bodies. Everything about this became a sensual stimulant, the scent, the feel, all of it.
His lungs bellowed, his breath rushing against her ear. She shivered at even that subtle contact. He turned his head and nipped at her lobe. Stars burst behind her lids, and her body locked in shock. “Jack!”
Pleasure exploded deep inside her, burst out in pure magic, and sent her flying into oblivion.
He shouted as the spell wrapped around them, lightning dancing over their skin. Shoving his cock deep, he ground himself against her, jets of come filling her for long, protracted moments. Then they collapsed, sweat sealing their skin together, hearts pounding. Every bit of tension leached from her body.
He rolled to his back and pulled her against him. “How are you?”
“Peachy. How about you?” She draped her leg over his and relaxed bonelessly in his arms, her voice slurring as if she’d gotten drunk on the endorphins. Maybe she had. The thought made her grin. “Pleasure spells didn’t fry your circuits or anything?”
His palm drifted up and down her arm, a low chuckle rumbling from him. “Nope, but if you want to be sure, you can feel free to check my circuits any time you want.”
She laughed softly and stroked her fingertips up his thigh. In a few minutes, she’d take him up on that offer. Right now, she wanted to savor this. She sighed and let her eyes drift shut, bliss unfurling inside her. There really was nothing like a good orgasm to take her mind off what ailed her.
Yeah, this was exactly the kind of distraction she’d needed tonight. A satisfied grin tugged at her lips as she slipped over the edge into unconsciousness.
3
She bolted upright in bed when an air raid siren went off. For a second, she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming about being a nurse back in World War II. But she was clearly awake and the siren kept wailing. “What the fuck?”
Shoving her hair out of her face, she tried to figure out where the hell she was. A door flipped open, flooding the room with light. She flinched back from the brightness, throwing a hand up to deflect the glare.
“Ah, shit.” Jack jogged out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and snatched up his cell phone. “Laramie.”
It was all she could do not to drool, watching those muscles flex as he moved. He was freshly shaven, and she wanted to feel that smooth skin against hers. His dark hair was damp and disheveled, beads of water slipping down his flesh and clinging to his chest hair. She’d seen hundreds of gorgeous men in her life. Thousands, even. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d reacted this strongly to one of them.
It was delicious.
It made no sense, but she didn’t give a damn because it felt great. Last night had been a lot of fun, and that was something she didn’t have much of anymore. She grinned and let herself enjoy the view.
His blue eyes darkened as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Yeah. Okay. Got it. I’ll be there.”
Tapping the screen to end the call, he gave her a wary glance. She snorted. “I’m not going to freak. I’ve had work interrupt things before. You have to leave now?”
“Immediately, if not sooner.” He flashed a relieved smile, then bent and scribbled something in a small notebook on the nightstand. He tore off the sheet and handed it to her. “The security code that will lock the house up behind you. You don’t need to rush out. Feel free to sleep in, shower, grab some coffee before you go. I have a pot brewing in the kitchen. I’m really sorry about this.”
“You’re trusting me with your alarm code?” Her eyebrows arched, and she couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice.
His grin widened. “I’ll change it when I get home. If I’ve been robbed between now and then, I know where to find you for questioning.”
“True enough.” She lay back in bed and folded her hands behind her head. The blanket slipped so that her breasts were bared, but she didn’t bother to straighten it.
A low growl rumbled up from his chest, and he bent down to draw her nipple into his mouth. She choked on a breath, her torso arching under the sudden lash of pleasure.
“Jack!” She drove her fingers into his hair, twisting tight.
His hand closed over the other breast, the calluses on his fingers rasping against her sensitive flesh as he tweaked and twisted the tight crest. His tongue swirled around her nipple, then he sucked hard and bit down. She sent a pleasure spell streaking down his scalp, and he shuddered and released her breast.
“You’re a dangerous woman.” His gaze glittered with hard lust, his thumb still chafing her nipple. “I have to go. I don’t want to, but I have to.”
“I understand.” She did. She’d been called in before in the middle of sex, not just the morning after. That had been awkward. Yeah, that guy had never graced her bed again, more because he’d been an ass about it rather than his unwillingness to sleep with her.
Jack pinched her nipple, recapturing her attention. “Have dinner with me tonight. I want more of you.”
She thought about it for about a half second. This wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a one-nighter, but the chemistry was great and he’d made her laugh. Why not let this thing ride for a bit? Good sex was hard to find. She’d had enough bad sex to know.
“Sure. Give me your phone.” He handed it over with no hesitation. She punched her number into his cell, which set hers to ringing in her purse ... which was out in the living room somewhere. “There. Call me when you’re done and I’ll let you know if work hasn’t messed with my day too much.”
“Perfect.” He bent down to brush his mouth over hers, the kiss soft. He tasted like minty toothpaste and sexy male. Not a bad combination. Drawing back, he shook his head. “And here I had plans to get up and make some breakfast for us before going another couple of rounds.”
“Hold that thought for tonight. You can make me dinner.” Why bother going out when
they both just wanted to get to the main event? Might as well get down to getting down.
“Do you like French toast? That’s about the only thing I can cook well.” His grin was self-deprecating as he shucked his towel and pulled on clothes.
She yawned and nodded, soaking in the sight of all those muscles before he covered them up. “Sounds good to me. I’m not picky.”
“I’ll see you later.” He kissed her lightly on his way out the door.
“Okay.” Her body hummed from the aftereffects of sex. She grinned and stretched before she sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. Time to get up and get home. Despite his offer to sleep in, she didn’t care to stay here while he wasn’t.
Her cell phone went off, and she jogged into the living room to fish it out of her purse. She punched the button to answer, pressing it to her ear. “Yes, sir?”
“The FBI just called. Kingston’s got a crime scene he wants you to look over.” The captain’s voice was rusty from sleep, and he sounded grumpy as hell. Then again, he always sounded pissed off. “Something you worked on before, I take it. Go see what you can do.”
He rattled off an address, which she scrawled on a notepad Jack had on his coffee table. “I’ll be there in half an hour, sir.”
“Good,” he barked before he hung up.
She had no idea what case she’d worked on with Merek that he might need her help with. Her former partner could handle himself in any situation. But what was he doing at a crime scene on his wedding night? Curiosity got the best of her, which was one of the reasons she’d done well as a detective. She liked a good puzzle, a challenge.
Getting back into her skintight dress was a bitch, but she didn’t bother to zip it all the way. She hustled out to her car, grabbed the gym bag she always kept in her trunk—or at least since the first time a junkie suspect had thrown up on her—and jogged back into the house.
The bathroom was tidier than she would have guessed for a bachelor living alone, but she wasn’t about to question that bit of good fortune. She twisted the knob to turn on the water and spent a few blissful minutes under the hot spray while she soaped, lathered, and rinsed. Wrapping a towel around herself, she fished a toothbrush and comb out of her bag and made quick work of her teeth and hair. One of the things she loved about modern hairstyles was that she could wear it really short. Easy and low-maintenance. So much better than when women had had to keep it long and wear it coiffed.
On her way out the door, she grabbed a travel mug from the kitchen cabinet, filled it to the brim with the coffee Jack had left, and screwed on the lid. Within moments, she’d keyed in the security code to lock the doors behind her, and she was in her car, heading for the address she’d been given. Taking a swig of coffee, she sighed when the caffeine began to buzz through her system. She’d have liked a little more time to sit and enjoy it, but no such luck.
“Crime waits for no man. Or woman.”
The place was pristine. The living room was freshly dusted, the wood floors polished to a high gleam.
Usually there was an air of something not quite right about a crime scene, but this apartment? Was spotless. Nothing looked out of place.
Until Jack turned the corner into the hallway. There, the house turned into a gruesome mockery of the cleanliness he’d seen before. Here, the stench of blood assaulted his nostrils and he coughed. Broken pictures dangled from nails on the wall. A large round hole showed where something had been shoved through the drywall. If he were going to hazard a guess, he’d say it was someone’s head that got slammed through. A tooth had been knocked loose from someone’s mouth and lay in the middle of the gore-splattered carpet runner.
Whatever had happened here had been unmistakably brutal, with unspeakable rage behind it.
In the bedroom, he found he was right. Crime scene analysts swarmed the room, collecting evidence. Hairs, fibers, fingerprints. Every inch of the place would be gone over, using human technology and Magickal spells to decipher any clue that might tell them who ... or what ... had done this.
But Jack’s gaze skimmed over the other agents and went straight to the bed. A petite blond woman’s dead body lay sprawled facedown on the mattress, her pajamas soaked in her own blood. The damage in this room was even worse than in the hallway. She’d been shot twice, and that was just the start of her wounds. Twin puncture wounds scored the side of her neck, with dried crimson stains trailing down from the gaping holes.
Her face seemed locked in an expression of horror, her blank eyes open and staring.
One of her front teeth was gone, a bloodied socket in its place. Her lips were split and swollen, and huge bruises slashed over the pieces of skin he could see. The rest of her flesh was sickening in its ghostly paleness. A blackened mark was burned into one bare arm, and Jack knew the sign of dark, evil magic when he saw it.
“Welcome to the party.” A redheaded woman shot him a glance as she set down a kit to collect evidence and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Tess Jones, the MCU’s new medical examiner. Also the maid of honor at the wedding the day before, though her finery had been exchanged for sensible pants, loafers, and a jacket emblazoned with FBI on the back.
She was probably one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, and she was smarter than she was pretty, which was saying something. Still, when she’d stood next to Selina in the wedding party, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of the slender elf.
“What happened?”
The redhead arched her eyebrows. “I just got here, but it looks like a vampire drained her. Completely.”
“Black magic.” He nodded to the mark he’d noticed.
“Yeah, I saw that.” Tess’s gloved hand motioned to it. “Usually the fanged races can’t cast spells very well, but it could just be the darkness of the Magickal who did this.”
“Magic can be funny that way.” And the vampire would have to be one dark SOB to leave that kind of mark behind without casting a spell. Jack tugged a pair of gloves out of his pocket and pulled them on. Stepping closer, he crouched down to get a better look at the body. The woman appeared to be in her midthirties, but age in Magickals could be deceiving.
Aside from the dark mark, the blisters down her arms and legs were obviously from one of the Magickal allergies. Werewolves reacted this way to silver, vampires to sunlight, witches to bronze, and Fae and elves to iron. The scorched, broken flesh over her body meant she’d been worked over pretty thoroughly. A few puncture marks indicated she might have been stabbed by the metal she was allergic to.
Her nails were broken and bloody, multiple bruises standing out on her too-pale skin. She’d put up one hell of a fight.
“Are we looking at sexual assault?” She wore clothes, but those could have been put on postmortem.
Tess took a breath. “I don’t think so, but I won’t have anything conclusive until I run some tests.”
“Luca said over the phone that the FBI was called in because she’s a federal official. A bureaucrat, not a field agent, though. He didn’t give me a name. What do we know about her?” He turned to look at one of the CSUs who was dusting for prints. The man nodded and silently handed over a wallet that had been sealed inside a plastic bag. Washington State driver’s license. Credentials that said she worked for the Bureau, but he’d never met her. “Mary Winston. Age thirty-three. Or so this ID says.”
“She’s not thirty-three, that I can tell you.” Tess scraped whatever skin cells there were out from under the victim’s fingernails. She might have clawed her attacker in the fight, which would give them some DNA to work with. “The Bureau database and the All-Magickal Council will have her real age and any other aliases they’ve issued her to cover her real identity from the mere mortals of the world.”
Jack cast her a wry glance. “Well, this mere mortal will run down her information with the FBI and the Council later.”
“I was a mere mortal not long ago.” The redhead flashed a small, tight grin that showed a hint of an extended we
rewolf canine.
“I know.” He refocused on the body decomposing before them. “What race of Magickal is she?”
Not one of the fanged races, he didn’t think. She would have healed too quickly to still be showing this amount of damage. Not an elf, because her ears didn’t have that subtle point to them. Since there were only five races of Magickals, that left witches and—
“Fae.” Luca stepped into the bedroom. “I’d guess Fae. That’s what her blood smells like to me.”
A palpable tension filled the room, as it always seemed to when Tess and Cavalli were in the same vicinity. On the one hand, Tess was the best coroner Jack had ever worked with, so he could see why Luca had insisted she be assigned to the Magickal side of the FBI rather than let her stay with the Normals. On the other hand, there was a certain level of masochism on his boss’s part that Jack didn’t even want to contemplate. As long as it didn’t affect their work—and both were too professional to let that happen—Jack tried to ignore it. The rest of the unit was doing the same, as far as he could tell.
He didn’t even want to think about the way Peyton had been holding her on the dance floor the night before.
Jack broke the heavy silence first. “This tells us two things. First, whoever did this knew her well enough to know she was a Magickal.” He lifted his fingers to tick off his points. “Second, he knew what kind of Magickal she was, because he used the metal she was allergic to.”
Tess looked away from the big vampire and met Jack’s gaze. “I can tell you he also used rounds made of the metal she was allergic to.” She indicated the flesh around the bullet holes. “See how it’s blackened at the edges with some blistering? Regular Magickal bullets wouldn’t do that. They have a shell casing that looks like a normal bullet. They’re explosive and armor-piercing rounds with fragments of all the allergen metals, as well as loaded with a sunbeam spell to fry the vampires when they explode. So Magickal ammunition wouldn’t have caused an allergic reaction until it burst inside of her. This bullet was made of iron.” The redhead shrugged. “That’s all I’ve got for you for now. I’ll be able to tell you more once I get her body back to my lab.”
Night Games Page 4