“Well, we know that Magda killed Penelope. Could she be a rogue lament singer who turned her back on the Morrígan? Are you sure the lament singers are born into a family like spirit shamans?” Bryan frowned. “Shapeshifters for the Morrígan are always born of an Irish family; in fact, there are three clans of us dedicated to her service. But not everybody born into our clans and family is destined to be a guardian.”
“Just as there are three lines dedicated to spirit shamans. Does that mean there are three families born into the service of lament singing? Nine is a sacred number, and so is three—three times three. And if so, then how is the Volkov family part of that, given their last name is anything but Irish?” I worried over the pieces, but then it clicked. “Last name wouldn’t matter! If the blood comes through the mother, then she could have married anybody anywhere, as far as I know. So that wouldn’t matter.”
“Volkov . . . Volkov . . . that means something in Russian, I’m sure of it.” Bryan leaned forward.
Peggin’s fingers flew over her iPad. “Here it is. Volkov—it is Russian and it derives its origins from the word volk . . . or wolf.” She hunted a little more, then shook her head. “That’s all I’ve got.”
“Tonight, I’m pushing Ellia to tell us everything she knows. She’s hiding something.” I frowned. “And that’s only going to lead to somebody getting killed.” With a sigh, I glanced at the clock. It was almost five thirty. “Pass me the egg rolls, please.”
Peggin flipped her iPad closed. She leaned back, playing with the hem of her dress. Black polka dots on white, it cinched her waist while flowing out into that retro-style skirt she liked so much.
I rubbed my temples. I had the beginnings of a headache but didn’t want to take any aspirin because I wasn’t sure how meds would affect the ritual I had to do. “Peggin, can you stay here this evening while we meet Ellia? I’m worried about Leon or Heathrow breaking in, and you have a gun, which would be very effective against human intruders. Also, Aidan will be showing up around eleven and if we’re not back by then, I’d like to have someone here to meet him.”
She snorted. “I’d like to see someone get through me and Molly.” At my look, she shrugged. “So, I named my gun. She’s Molly, like a gangster’s moll?”
At that, Bryan broke out laughing. “You’re perfect, Peggin. Never change.”
She winked at him. “Anything for you, honey chile. And say, if either of you knows anybody single and sane, I’d be up for a blind date. I broke up with a guy three months ago and haven’t had an evening out in ages. At least, not one that ended in a good-night kiss.”
Bryan cleared his throat. “I know somebody and I think you’d get along great, but you have to be open-minded.”
“Oh, that sets this up to be oh-so-good. Um . . . just who do you have in mind, do I know him, and is he a serial killer in the making? If the latter is yes, I’ll pass. And if he’s a mama’s boy, I’ll pass, too.” Peggin liked her men like her coffee—strong, energetic, and with a kick.
“I don’t know. Not at all. And not even close.” Bryan hesitated, enough for me to know that whoever he was about to mention was going to elicit a reaction. I was right.
She grumbled for a moment. “All right, already. Spill his name.”
Said very flat, with a hint of don’t hit me—“Dr. Divine.”
Peggin inclined her head, just enough to stare at him over the tops of her glasses. “You did not say the name I thought you said. Did you?”
“I told you that you need an open mind.” He shrugged. “I think you’d hit it off.”
I hadn’t met—or even heard of—Dr. Divine. “So, what am I missing here?”
Bryan sidled me a glance, begging me to shut up, but I wasn’t about to see my best friend thrown to the wolves. So to speak.
“Seriously, who is he?”
Peggin coughed. “An artist. We think he may be human, but the votes aren’t in on that yet.”
Bryan snorted again. “He’s human, all right, though he does seem to have a curious ability. But he’s really quite shy beneath the butt-length cornrows and the goggles.”
“Goggles? Really?” I turned to Peggin. “Who the hell is he talking about?”
She rolled her eyes. “As he said, Dr. Divine is an artist. He sculpts and paints. He moved to Whisper Hollow about six years ago. Dude came in on a visit and just never left. He bought that huge old house on the lakefront that used to belong to the Carters before the granddaughter moved away. Every now and then, one of his creations gets away from him. Don’t ask how—nobody knows. But when he builds something, or paints something, now and then it takes a notion to go gallivanting around town. His creations take on a life of their own.”
I nodded. Of course Whisper Hollow would have an artist whose art came to life. That seemed only too fitting. “But . . . goggles?”
“He’s very steampunk. Wears a top hat, goggles, and an ankle-length duster that looks like something out of the Wild Wild West movie. Belts with gears and gadgets attached to them . . . who knows what else. I’ve never gotten a good look at his face, though.”
“I have. Good-looking guy.” Bryan was making a serious plea here. “Don’t be too quick to prejudice yourself against him. He’s brilliant and he lives all wrapped up in that mind, but he’s very kind, really, when you get to know him, and he’s funny and interesting. And he has good table manners.”
“You sound like you’ve had him over to dinner.” It suddenly occurred to me that Bryan’s acquaintances would include a number of people I’d never met.
“I have. He’s human, all right, but he just has a gift—or a curse, at times—with his art.”
Peggin sighed. “Fine. I’ll give him a chance. But if he gets weird on me, I’m blaming you. Weird being relative, of course.” She stood, stretching. “I need to go home and feed Folly and Frith before I guard your house. I also want to make sure Molly is cleaned and ready to go, and I want to get out of these clothes if there’s even a remote chance the bad guys are going to show up.” She giggled. “I feel stupid using that term, but I guess that’s really what they are.”
As she headed out the door, she glanced back at Bryan. “Dr. Divine. Really?” At his nod, she shrugged. “Okay, I’ll give him a fair shake. Set us up, maestro. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” And with that, she was out the door.
* * *
After she left, I turned to Bryan. “You promised an encore of this morning. I know it’s been a weird day, but I’m hungry for you.”
He met my gaze. “Come here, wench.” He held out his arms and I snuggled into them. He was warm against my body and smelled of all things dark and delicious. As I burrowed my face into his sweater, he let out a soft sound and leaned down, sweeping me up into his arms.
As he swung into the hallway, carrying me back toward the bedroom, he hit the switch to flood the hall with light. “We don’t want to be interrupted by your friend the Shadow Man.”
Hell, I’d almost forgotten about that. “I need to turn on the lights in the rooms so he can’t get in.” I couldn’t keep the lights blazing all day, every day, but until I figured out a permanent way of keeping him out, I was afraid to let the cats go into any room that didn’t have some semblance of light in it.
“Here.” Bryan stopped at the bed, then gently set me down on it. “I’ll go. You just get out of those clothes.”
I reminded him to make sure the light was on in the attic, the pantry, and the secret room. With a salacious grin that made me want him that much more, he took off.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I slipped out of my clothes, setting them aside neatly. I didn’t like mess or clutter. It wasn’t conducive to a clear mind. I opened the dresser to fetch one of my black nightgowns with sheer panels interspersed with the satin, and while I was at it, I prepared a couple of condoms, setting them on the nightstand, open and ready for use. Slid
ing it over my head, I gasped as the lace brushed against my nipples, making them harden and ache.
With a soft sigh, I ran my hands down the sides of my hips, feeling the moist heat rise between my legs. Yes, I wanted Bryan and I wanted him now. The thought of his chest against mine, of his firm hands holding me down, of his body pressed against mine made me hungry to the point where I whimpered. I’d always loved sex, even when I wasn’t with a regular partner, but now I realized he set me to craving it. To craving him.
Pulling back the covers, I bounced on the bed, eager for him to return. I gave myself a very light spritz of one of my favorite perfumes and finally leaned back against the headboard. Another moment, and I was getting antsy, and a little nervous. Was he okay? Had the Ankou been lying in wait? I frowned, wondering how long he had been gone. It couldn’t have been that long, could it? I glanced at the clock. Five minutes? Ten?
But then, just as the butterflies were hitting hard, he popped back around the corner. “We don’t have long. Peggin will be back in less than an hour. But I stopped to feed the cats. I don’t know when you give them their dinner, but they were complaining loud and clear, so I thought I’d take care of them first.”
And with that sentence, he won over another part of my heart. I slipped out of bed as he began to remove his shirt and pants, and walked over to him, stopping his hand. “Just . . . quiet. This time, you be quiet.” As he stared at me, a quizzical expression on his face, I began to unbutton his shirt, easing it off his shoulders and arms. I held my finger to my lips, then pressed my mouth to his chest, leaving a trail of kisses down the center of his six-pack, heading toward his belt as he let out a satisfied moan.
At his belt, I paused as I stared at the silver buckle. A silver wolf’s head, fierce and daunting. I glanced up. “According to legend, werewolves can’t touch silver.”
“I’m not a werewolf. I’m a shapeshifter—vastly different thing.” He lifted my chin. “I’m your shapeshifter.”
“Mine,” I whispered, as I slowly undid his belt and pulled it through the loops, dropping it to the side. His jeans were taut, straining to contain him. I could see the hardness against the front fly, and I took my time, teasing as I slowly unzipped him. As the waist opened, the front of his briefs were stretching to cover his erection and I leaned forward, pressing a kiss against the soft material. Bryan gasped, his hand bracing himself against the bedpost. With one quick tug, I pulled down his jeans. He had already taken off his boots while he was turning on the lights, and so I slid the jeans over his feet and dropped them to the side. Then I slid my fingers under the waistband of his briefs and tugged them down, too, watching as his hard, stiff cock bounced lightly as the material slipped over it. That elicited an even louder groan.
Laughing, I tossed his underwear to the side and then decided to get up close and personal. As I rolled the condom over his penis, I traced the veins, starting at the balls, and followed the engorged shaft up its length. Even through the latex, his flesh was warm and pulsing beneath my tongue. He let out a grunt, then fisted my hair with his free hand, holding my head as I fit my lips to the head of his penis and tightened them, forming a lovely suction as I slid my lips down his length. With one hand, I held him firm. With my other, I braced myself by wrapping my arm around his legs.
“Kerris . . . don’t stop . . . don’t stop.” He leaned his head back, and I flickered my gaze up his perfect chest as I felt his ass muscles tighten. He thrust into my mouth, though gently—not hard enough to hurt—and I rode his cock with my lips, bobbing up and down, forcing him deep as I relaxed my throat muscles enough to take him up to the hilt. He was wide, and fully engorged, and the pulse of his blood pounded even through the condom. Another moment, and he pulled away, his eyes wild and feral.
He grabbed me up, tossing me on the bed, and I landed with a laugh. I slid one of the spaghetti straps of my nightgown down, exposing my breast, and began to brush the nipple, rubbing around and round, gliding over the areola, then cupped my breast, stroking the taut flesh. My breasts were large and full and he stared at them like a hungry man staring at dinner.
“You want them?” I taunted him, and he was suddenly against me, pressing me back against the pillows, his lips teething against my nipple, sucking deep as he caressed the arc of my breast. His touch was electric, a shock wave rippling through me, and I let out a gasp as the moist heat between my thighs became a raging fire. I struggled to pull up my nightgown and suddenly it was around my waist, and his hand was between my legs as he stoked the flames, his fingers brushing my clit, sliding inside me to spur on the hunger.
He brought his fingers up to his lips and slowly, as I watched, licked them. “I love your taste, I love the scent of you, the feel of you. Your cream is salty and sweet, like caramel, and it drives me wild.”
“What are you going to do to me?” I whispered low, wanting to hear the words, wanting to know what he was thinking.
“I’m going to fuck you so deep, so hard that you scream my name and only my name. I’m going to ram my cock in up to the hilt, drive it home to the center core of you so you forget everyone and everything else. I’m going to slide my finger up your ass and watch you squirm and scream for more. By the time I’m done, you’ll be so wrung out, you won’t remember your own name.” His eyes were feral now, a wild light racing through them, and the sound of my heart racing matched the need and ache in his voice. “You want me, Kerris? Tell me you want me.”
A wave of pain rushed over me—the pain of needing someone so much you can’t stand it. I wanted him in me, wanted him to take me, claim me, own me for his woman. “Yes, I want you. Please, please fuck me.”
With a rough laugh, he pinched my clit just enough to send me spiraling into orgasm, then replaced the condom with a new one, fire burning in his gaze.
I let out a scream, unable to keep my pleasure silent, as he was suddenly inside me, driving deep, plunging with a fierceness that made every fiber of me cry out in delight. I laughed, unable to hold back as he thrust again and again, the friction of his girth sending a ripple through my body. I came again, and he suddenly withdrew and flipped me over, coming in from behind. As he held tight to my hips, gaining even better purchase to leverage against my body, the tension began to build again and I suddenly felt his fingers as he reached down between my legs to massage my clitoris as his penis drove deep into my pussy. On fire, I came yet again, and as I climaxed, he carefully worked one finger into my ass, deep enough to make me moan.
“Do you want me there? Do you want all of me there?” His voice was rough and harsh with the crazed hunger that was fueling us both.
Aching, but wanting more—wanting him to explore every inch of my body—I nodded, almost crying. “Yes, please . . . yes.”
He slid out of my pussy, and I heard something. I glanced around to see him lubing up the condom with gel. Another moment and he had hold of my hips and I braced, gritting my teeth as he began to work the head of his penis into my ass. Slowly, not in any rush, he inched it forward, holding me steady when I began to squirm. He eased it in as he grunted low with pleasure.
Every inch of my body was feeling stretched, and I was ready for the pain, but none came as he gently eased into me until suddenly, he was full in my ass, up to the hilt, his balls bouncing against the back of my legs. With a slow sigh, he eased back and then gave one long, sliding thrust, and then another, and another until I couldn’t help it, but had to reach down, to rub my clit furiously as the tension built again. I moaned, falling into the sex haze, feeling the tension mount again, driving me up until there was nowhere to go.
Forced into a corner, the ache grew and then, with one last long plunge into my ass, Bryan let go. He cried out so loud that it echoed through the room. His pleasure mingled with mine and I pinched my clit hard, and once more, the orgasm raced through my body, shaking me to the core as I tumbled into the darkness of pleasure, coming harder than I’d ever come i
n my life.
CHAPTER 17
We were back in the kitchen five minutes before Peggin arrived, gun in hand and dressed for business. She promptly took control of the remote, the living room, and the fridge, and—after warning her not to turn off any of the lights or night lights—Bryan and I headed toward my car.
“Hold on one sec. I’ll be right back.” Bryan dashed toward his house as I warmed the car.
In Lila’s Shadow Journal, she had detailed the preliminary ritual for someone who had been taken by the Lady, when their body hadn’t surfaced. Apparently, this was common enough, and it was also common knowledge that if the Lady of Crescent Lake claimed you, chances were your family would never see your remains again. I had everything I needed in the doctor’s bag.
When Bryan reappeared, he was carrying a sheathed short sword.
I stared at the weapon as he climbed in the front seat. “You know how to use that?”
“Yes. Remember, I was born before modern weapons. I learned how to fire a rifle, sure . . . and a revolver, but I also learned how to use one of these. I can gut an opponent before he knows what’s happening.” The cool tone in his voice made me shiver.
Softly— “Have you ever?”
A slight nod. “Yes. I’ve had more than one occasion to bring this out.” He paused. “After seeing my father murdered, I swore no one would ever take me by surprise. No one would ever hurt another person I loved. And I’ve made it my business through the years to learn every method I could for preventing that. Kerris, I’m a natural-born marksman, with both bow and gun; I can wield a blade, I can use my body to take down a man twice my size without a blink. If anybody’s cut out to be your guardian, that would be me.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head.
There was nothing else to say. I kept quiet until we reached Ellia’s. She was waiting out in the street for us, violin in hand. How the woman braved the chill nights, I did not understand, but she seemed unfazed by the cold weather.
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