He turned on the shower, stripped off, and stepped in. The water was a degree too hot but he didn’t care. It was good to feel warm once in a while. When he was done, he turned off the shower and then dried himself, all the while thinking about the demons that were after Lealandra and wondering who else was involved. Definitely a witch or at least someone who knew magic. There were plenty of people out there that couldn’t use magic but knew enough about it to have written the message on Lealandra’s wall.
A quick check with his senses placed Lealandra in the kitchen. Taig walked out of the bathroom, naked and unbothered by the possibility of Lealandra seeing him. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted her to see. He wanted her to take a good look and remember everything they had done together so she would want him again, so she would realise that she had been missing out because of her decision to go with Charlie.
Taig growled at himself for being idiotic enough to let her go with the bloody bastard. He should have known that her coven wouldn’t know how to look after her, that Charlie wouldn’t know. Taig traced the thin white lines on the inside of his forearm with his fingertips. They were a record of their time together than was inerasable. Marks for her, to feed her power and soothe it. It needed blood. Her genes were suitable for old magic, the kind that had been around long enough, passed from generation to generation, that it had cravings and desires, and if it didn’t get what it wanted, it was likely to go nuclear and take over its host and force them to do its bidding.
Lealandra needed blood.
He had caught her looking at the scars, each time with hunger shining in her eyes. Six years without blood would have left her magic desperate. She hadn’t flipped yet but she had almost lost it twice last night. He had never seen her magic respond like it had in the car and in the coven, and her reactions told him that she hadn’t either.
He turned his left hand over and looked at the cuts on his palm, jagged dark red lines from the broken glass. He could give her what she needed. Dressing quickly in black jeans and a tight black t-shirt, he mulled over the idea of offering Lealandra his blood. He didn’t want to taint her with it but she needed his blood. It would ease her magic and give her more control. No matter what he felt about it, he had offered her a taste as part of the deal. He curled his fingers into a fist and stared at it, making his decision.
Taig walked out into the living room to find her sitting on the couch. When he sat down next to her and held his hand out, palm up and open, her grey eyes fixed on it and her pupils dilated. Her soft pink tongue swept over her lips, dampening them and making him want to kiss her again.
“Take it.” He offered his hand to her.
Lealandra hesitated barely a moment before she grabbed his hand with both of hers and yanked it towards her. The feel of her mouth on his palm was divine, her tongue sliding sensually over his flesh, tickling and teasing him. Her warm breath stirred his blood almost as much as her steady gentle suckling. She moaned softly on an exhale and her grip loosened, her fingers stroking his wrist and thumb, tangling with his fingers in movements of sheer desperation. He tilted his hand towards her, giving her better access, and inhaled slowly, trying to control himself. She needed blood and he had promised it to her.
Blood and nothing else.
No matter how much he wanted it. When she was like this, the magic making her hungry, it wasn’t her in control. It wasn’t her who reacted to him in lustful ways. It was her magic. It wanted more than just blood. It wanted his power. It wanted his body.
Lealandra suddenly pulled back, releasing him and gasping at air. Her chest heaved with it, bosoms pressing against her rich purple corset top and threatening to spill over. He stared at them, watching the rough rise and fall, tempted to reach out and touch, to take this to the next level regardless of his knowledge that she was barely in control. Until the power in his blood was absorbed into hers, the magic held the reins.
She knocked the air out of his lungs when she slammed into him, her hands on his shoulders, gripping tight. Her mouth was on his before he could stop her, the taste of his own blood stirring his demon until it verged on taking control. He grabbed her arms and shoved her away.
Red eyes glared at him with pure anger.
“Lealandra,” he whispered and touched her cheek. The colour instantly drained from her eyes and they widened in shock. She sat back, fidgeting with her long black skirt, her focus intent on it.
Taig sat up and then stood, needing distance to stop himself from kissing her. It would take a few more minutes for his power to temper hers. He went over to the long black side cupboard that lined the back wall of his living room and opened the doors below the picture of his parents. He didn’t look at it. His gaze tripped over it straight to the guns in the cupboard. Sleek, black pistols greeted him. He took out his black shoulder holster and slipped his arms through it, and then grabbed his two favourite guns and slid them into the holster, one either side of his ribs. The weight of them felt good. He grabbed a couple of spare clips, in case tonight’s mark was less cooperative than he expected.
Lealandra was watching him when he turned around. The colour and life had returned to her face. His blood had calmed her magic for now but he wasn’t sure how long the effect would last. With the peak of her ascension approaching, it was only going to get more difficult for her to maintain command of her power. If she needed more of his blood, could he let her take it? He wasn’t sure. The thought of her taking his tainted blood into her body repulsed him.
“Where are you going?” She leaned one arm against the back of his black couch.
Trying to look casual. That amused him in a small way but he didn’t let it show. How many times were they going to do this merry dance before they finally gave up the fight against their desire? They both wanted it, wanted each other. He was normally a reach out and take kind of man when he wanted something, but this time he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Lealandra had to take the first step. She had to be the one who risked the fall because she had been the one to separate them.
“I have a job.” He walked past her to his bedroom, took his beaten up leather jacket from the wardrobe and put the clips in the inside pockets. Lealandra was still watching him when he came back out. “You’ll be safe here.”
He went to put his jacket on.
“No.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “No?”
She shook her head. This wasn’t the time for her to start with her stubborn streak.
“You need reminding that you’re high on someone’s hit list?” He finished putting his jacket on, tugging it around until it sat snugly over his chest. “You’re staying here where it’s safe.”
“No.” Lealandra stood, a scowl on her face that she didn’t wear well. He preferred her smiles to her anger. She hesitated and then cleared her long black hair out of her face, defiantly flicking it over her bare shoulders. Those shoulders shifted back and she raised her chin. Standing tall. A defensive posture if ever he saw one. “I’ll be safest with you.”
Taig waved a hand around his apartment, drawing her attention to the protective marks that covered the points of entry. “Here is where you’ll be safest. No one can get in easily. The moment I leave this apartment, all routes are closed. You’re staying here and I’m not hearing another damn word about it.”
“No!”
He sighed when she went and got her long dark red coat from the bedroom. She put it on, her steely look telling him that she wasn’t going to back down. He flexed his fingers to loosen up and realised that there was only one way of making her stay.
“I don’t want you to come. The last thing I need is your help.” He regretted it the moment he said it. Hurt filled her grey eyes and her shoulders sagged. He clenched his fists to rein in his feelings and then dragged a hand through his hair, tousling the wet black strands. “I’ll be distracted if you come.”
Lealandra huffed. “Worried. The word is worried, Taig, not distracted. I’m going regardless.”
“No!” He growled the word.
“God, Taig! Stop being so thick-headed about this. I’m going with you!”
He snarled now. “God has nothing to do with me, so don’t bother calling his fucking name.”
Rage pounding through him, Taig turned on his heel, grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, and stalked out of the apartment.
Lealandra followed.
It was pointless telling her to go back so he didn’t bother. If she really felt safest with him when he was on the hunt, then she could tag along. After all, she was paying for his services as a bodyguard.
Not that she needed to.
He would do anything for her.
He would protect her with his life.
CHAPTER 9
Taig’s breath left him in a sharp burst when he hit the side of the crypt. He growled, pushed himself back onto his feet and ran through the darkness towards the lit path and the man responsible. The slim man grinned at him and then turned towards Lealandra. Bloody immortals. Taig growled again and threw himself at the man, tackling him to the ground and trying to pin him there. The man hit him solidly across the jaw. The taste of blood filled his mouth but Taig didn’t back down. He closed his hands around the man’s throat, throttling him. It wouldn’t kill him, but it satisfied the deep craving for revenge crawling around Taig’s insides.
The man choked and Taig tightened his grip, grinning down at him. He hated immortals. They were a bitch to kill and this one had taken a fancy to Lealandra. A distraction. He had told her that was what she would be if she came with him and she was. He wasn’t worried about her. She could handle herself. But he wouldn’t let the immortal near enough to her in order for that to happen.
Taig frowned when the man rolled him over, landing on top, and pushed his hands down on Taig’s arms. He struggled to keep hold of the man’s throat and got a knee in the ribs for his effort. His hands slipped from the man’s neck and he was gone. A moment later, pain exploded in Taig’s right side. The heavy black boot swung towards him again and Taig caught it, pushed it up, and sent the man crashing to the ground.
Before Taig could jump him, Lealandra had shot a dazzling red bolt of power towards him, sending the man hurtling into the same crypt that had given Taig a headache. The stone shattered into a heap under the impact, burying the man. Taig dragged himself to his feet and breathed hard. It hadn’t been an easy fight so far but he was getting into now, and could sense that Lealandra was too. Her power flowed through him in tangible waves, ones that he could feel the strength in. She was far more powerful than she had been six years ago. Something told him that her impending ascension wasn’t the only reason behind it. Her magic had been growing in their time apart.
Grey rubble tumbled down the pile in front of them and the man crawled out of it. He stood, a scowl darkening his pale eyes, and calmly dusted down his black coat.
Taig readied himself.
The sharp rise in Lealandra’s power told him she had too.
The man carefully neatened up his brown hair and then ran at Taig.
Taig drew both guns, firing one round after another, each one hitting its target. The man kept running, blood streaming down his coat, drenching his pale shirt. Taig shot him in the head. The man hit the dirt.
Silence reigned as Taig waited, knowing that the man would get up again. Bullets would only slow him down. Taig needed to find a way to put the man out of action permanently.
Lealandra’s power rose another notch. Red ribbons spiralled around her hands and forearms. She was gearing up for a fight. The sight of her so focused on their mark, her eyebrows drawn tight and her lips compressed into a dark line, made him think of all the times he had hunted with her.
And all of their victories.
Arousal tightened his gut, heating him from the inside out as his body responded to the memories of making out with Lealandra.
He told himself that it wasn’t going to happen this time. Things were different now.
Or were they?
Lealandra’s gaze crept slowly over to him. Red ringed her grey irises. Her pupils widened into dark chasms of hunger that told him he wasn’t the only one thinking about victory sex.
Taig took a step towards her.
The immortal did one better. He shot to his feet and ran at Lealandra. She was too slow to turn. Unprepared. Distracted by him. Taig sprinted across the open ground to her, caught her around her waist and pulled her close to his chest. The immortal didn’t slow his approach. He threw a punch at Taig. Taig ducked backwards to avoid it, let his claws burst through the skin on his fingers and grabbed the immortal’s shoulder. His claws sunk deep into his enemy and he twisted with him, still holding Lealandra close, using the combination of the immortal’s momentum and his own strength to slam the man into the grassy earth. Lealandra gasped and Taig looked across to see her staring at his hand on her waist.
That was the trouble with needing his claws. He never had mastered the ability to change only one of his hands. The one holding her waist was now dark brown and scaly, his fingers transformed by thick armour and claw-like tips.
Taig released her, hauled the immortal off the floor and growled as he slashed his claws across the man’s throat and then snapped his neck with such force that his head came off. The immortal’s body dropped to the ground. Come back from that one.
Taig casually dropped the head, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His hands shook, the skin on his wrists starting to tear and reveal more of his true appearance. Panic threatened to overwhelm him but he tamped it down and slowed his breathing in an attempt to settle his heart and stop the emergence of his demon side. The skin on his wrists slowly repaired itself, meshing together with a new layer that appeared over the back of his hands.
Lealandra touched his shoulder from behind.
Taig turned towards her, raising his human hands at the same time. “All man again—”
He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. Lealandra’s mouth captured his and the force of her kiss stole his voice. Her tongue thrust between his lips and her fingers raked through his hair, mussing it and making him groan. Taig wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her flush against him, holding her so tightly that he was sure he would hurt her. He couldn’t help himself. She ran her long nails over his scalp and down his throat, and then looped her arms around his neck.
Her body pressed against his, rubbing in a way that had him aching in his jeans, hard and ready for her. He shifted, thrusting his hips into hers and she moaned into his mouth. Such a sweet sound. He ground again, eliciting another low sigh from her, and lowered his hands to her backside. Heat spread through him as he cupped her bottom, idly reacquainting himself with it while she kissed the breath from him. This felt too good.
He frowned and closed his eyes when her mouth left his and she pressed wet kisses along his jaw, her breathing rough and laboured, and her movements jerky and frantic. The desire to claim her as his again, to dominate her and make her surrender to him was too strong to ignore. He held her closer, pulling her possessively against him and letting her feel his strength. She moaned again and arched into him, tiptoed so the apex of her thighs was against his. Too good.
Her red nails scored his leather jacket’s sleeves and he growled. It seemed his little witch still liked it rough sometimes. He pressed his body hard against hers, grasping her backside so she couldn’t move. He could do it rough. He could do it any way she liked as long as he was back inside her.
As long as they were one again.
The tempo of her kisses changed when she reached his neck. They turned slower, deeper, showing all of her hunger for him. She devoured his throat with blunt teeth and groaned. Her warm breath tickled his skin, stirred the fire within him that burned with a desire to respond, to give her just what she wanted.
&
nbsp; Blood.
His mouth had other ideas.
“It’ll cost you extra this time.”
Taig closed his eyes the moment she pulled away, not wanting to see the hurt he could feel in her, and cursed himself for being stupid enough to say such a thing. The expected slap didn’t come. When he opened his eyes, she had her back to him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. He didn’t know what was worse—her hitting him for saying something cruel or the silent treatment.
Lealandra hunched up and lowered her head.
The silent treatment won.
He reached out to touch her shoulder and then thought better of it. She had a right to be pissed off and he was being a complete bastard to her by treating her so poorly. All he wanted to do was welcome her back with open arms, to drag her back into his life and never let her go, but whenever he got close, he remembered the night she had left him and the man she had left him for, and he couldn’t stop himself from snapping.
Withdrawing his hand, Taig sighed and then turned his attention back to tonight’s mark. The body was decomposing. Time loved to play catch up with immortals and the longer they had lived, the quicker it happened. Judging by the man’s rate of decomposition, he had been alive for centuries. Taig stooped and took the signet ring from the man’s finger as it crumbled. It would have to suffice as proof that he had done the job.
He stood again and looked at Lealandra. She still had her back to him. He walked over to her, hesitated a moment, and then wrapped his arm around her chest, drawing her towards him so her back was pressed against his front.
Ascension Page 9