Masked Possession

by Alana Delacroix

  With a single movement, he buried himself deep inside. Caro moaned into her arms at the incredible sensation of him and tried to move, but Eric pinned her down. “Stay still,” he said roughly. “Let yourself feel it.”

  “I thought I was in charge.”

  “You were. Now I am.”

  His grip on her hips was like iron and he stilled her softly. Caro nearly sobbed, craving the delicious friction that would free her. This was torture—lusciously sweet, but torture nonetheless. But she obeyed. With no movement, she could feel how much he stretched her, could feel his fire sink into her deepest folds. It was incredible. She gasped and opened herself to him even more, her flesh clutching around his hard shaft.

  He began to thrust, keeping himself deep and moving slowly. At the same time, he slid his hand under her body, finding the sweet spot that would put her over the top. “More,” she whispered. “Deeper.”

  “Yes.” His voice came from right behind her, as he bent his strong body over hers. His free hand grabbed her wrists and stretched them high over her head. She was pinned beneath him, unable to move and helpless against his relentless pounding. Her mind swirled, filled with nothing but impressions—his chest against her back, the tight grip on her wrists. He thrust hard and Caro screamed, spiraling down into a world of heat and light. Eric pulsed and groaned, collapsing against her back, his heart hammering against her skin.

  For a moment, they lay there panting. Then Eric pulled away and lay on the bed, lifting Caro with him.

  “Good game,” she said, running a lazy hand down his chest.

  He kissed the top of her head. “We’ll play again,” he promised.

  His answer came through a cloud and Caro feel asleep with a smile on her face, feeling safe and whole for the first time in a long time.

  Chapter 26

  “Impossible. Totally out of the question.”

  Caro seethed. Her gorgeous lover from the night before had turned into a bit of an autocratic asshole in the bright morning sun. All she had done was get dressed and tell him she was going to pick up some things from her apartment. After all, she’d agreed to stay here while she learned how to take on a masque. She wanted to collect a few personal items that she’d been too frazzled to remember the day before and avoid having a stranger rummage through her lingerie drawers.

  Was that asking a lot? It was not.

  Her phone buzzed again. Julien, for the third time this morning, and getting aggressive in his messages. She turned the phone off completely.

  Tom had arrived earlier and been briefed on Caro’s situation. He’d said nothing but she had the impression he wasn’t pleased about her being there, and in fact, wasn’t too happy that she existed at all. What had she done to him? Was he jealous? It wouldn’t be the first time that a man resented a woman coming into his friend’s life. She’d watched him carefully until he left to check on some of the security points around the city and noticed that he was constantly alert as to what she was doing. As a test, she quickly leaned forward from her chair. He instantly shifted into an attack posture.

  Caro got the hint. Tom was a watchdog and didn’t trust her. It made sense, even though he was being a dick about it. She settled back into the chair. It rankled a bit that the security chief considered her some sort of menace but she accepted that Eric was the leader of his nation and Tom needed to be on guard for threats, especially with Iverson around. It was still strange to her that Eric ran a shadow organization—Hierarchdom? What would you call it?—across the continent. He’d explained it to her over breakfast and the scope of it had left her a little stunned.

  The arcana had evolved with humans for eons, he’d told her over coffee and warm buttery croissants. Although unproven, and to many arcana it was anathema, it made sense to assume that arcana and humans shared a common ancestor. It was hard to tell which group had deviated from the rootstock more.

  “We used to live in peace,” Eric had said. “Or relative peace. We lived openly with humans. There was more interbreeding, though most matches resulted in stillbirths or infertile children.”

  Caro had sipped her coffee. “Chromosomal mismatch?”

  He had nodded. “Like other long-lived arcana, it’s difficult for us to reproduce anyway, no doubt to keep down our numbers. Anyway, in the end it was the masquerada who brought on the war with the humans. Increasing populations meant humans were being preyed on by all groups more frequently. It was a bad time. They were scared, and frightened humans react poorly.”

  “Massacres?”

  “And worse.”

  She’d leaned forward. “How was it the masquerada’s fault?”

  “Although I have no doubt that some of our ancestors were as annoyingly cocky as my current people, I think it was because we were the best able to blend in with the humans. They could never know if we were among them and that terrified them.”

  Caro could see the truth in that. “Was there a spark?”

  “The Xiao Xiao incident. A man in southern China, Ming dynasty, found his young daughter taking on a masque. He was a human traditionalist, and killed her. Then his wife, who the man blamed.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “It gets worse. His wife, Tan Yao, was from a prominent magistrate’s family. They were masquerada but had been living among humans for generations, growing in power and in wealth. It made the Tans a juicy target when they retaliated and the husband petitioned the Emperor for help, claiming that it was time to destroy the monsters.”

  Caro had felt how huge her eyes were. “What happened?”

  “It was the beginning of the end for open coexistence and eventually pulled in every arcane group. After twenty years, tens of thousands of arcana and humans were dead. Societies were created to hunt us down.”

  “So you went underground?”

  Eric brushed a few flaky crumbs off the table. “There were some places that still accepted us but for the most part, we knew it was time to disappear. Let the humans think they had won.”

  “All arcana?””Most. There’s a group called the Pharos who make sure we all stay true to it. The one rule.”

  “Keep secret from the humans?” she had guessed.

  “Bingo.”

  “You said most.”

  He’d shrugged. “Even creatures of myth have their stories. There’s supposedly some ancient arcana who simply went underground rather than sign. I’ve never seen proof of it, though.”

  They had both sat back for the rest of the meal, absorbed in their own thoughts. Wars. Intrigue. Betrayals. Her mind itched at the stories that she could write there. If she could write them. If she could still write.

  She wrenched her mind back to her current issue. No doubt thinking the discussion was over, Eric tapped away on the keyboard, his dark hair tumbling over his forehead. With his dark-rimmed glasses, he was the epitome of every steamy professor fantasy she’d had. Her mouth watered.

  This isn’t helping. Stay on topic.

  “What am I, a prisoner? Eric, look, all I want is twenty minutes to get my things from my apartment. I’m coming back.”

  “No worry there. You don’t need to come back because you’re not leaving.”

  Now Caro was irate. She was being extremely conciliatory and this is what she got for it? “Who do you think you are? You don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

  Stephan came in then and she managed to give him a polite nod.

  “Actually, I do.” Eric’s voice was calm.

  “Excuse me?”

  He looked up. Damn, the brainy smartness of the glasses combined with the lean, muscular body was sizzling hot. She decided to gaze out the window as he spoke. It was the only way she’d be able to focus. “One. It’s too risky. So I have the right as the person with the best knowledge of the situation.”

  “I am going in and out to get my things,”
she countered. “That’s it.”

  He ignored her. “Two. We can’t let Iverson know you’re here, if he doesn’t already. I have the right as the person who doesn’t want to put more people at risk.”

  “That same thing will happen if you send someone from here to my place,” she said firmly.

  “Counterpoint—they are trained and will be masqued so that renders your argument moot. Three. I’m your Hierarch, which means this is my show and you will obey.”

  Stephan groaned and waved his hands in a stop talking motion from the other side of the room as Caro felt herself turn purple. “What did you say?”

  Eric sighed. “Caro, I didn’t want to do this. I’m your Hierarch and this is a direct command.”

  “I’m sorry, are you off your rocker? You’re not my fucking king.”

  “Hierarch,” he corrected.

  “Whatever. I don’t take orders from you.”

  Stephan coughed. “Uh, actually, you do.”

  She spun and fixed him with a death glare. “Who the hell asked you?”

  “I’m clarifying the situation. As a masquerada, even a half-blood, you owe allegiance to the Hierarch. In return, you get protection and justice.” He paused. “Usually,” he muttered.

  “Where was Mr. Hierarch in my life until now?” she snapped. “Too busy bossing around the rest of you poor saps?”

  “You were latent and outside of our realm of authority,” Eric said. “Now that you’re masquing, you need to abide by the rules. I’m sorry, Caro. I know this is a lot to take in. The rules are set to keep statics safe.”

  “You have special laws?”

  “Masquerada laws, and they apply to all of us, even me. You can imagine what it would be like if we did whatever we wanted.”

  “Like Iverson?” The second she said it, she knew she’d gone too far. Eric didn’t react.

  “Exactly,” he said. He took the glasses off and laid them on the table before coming over to stroke her shoulders. “I know this is hard.”

  She thought. “What about a deal?”

  “No way,” he said promptly.

  “That’s not fair. How can you claim to be just when you don’t even listen?”

  “Actually, that was Stephan’s claim, not mine.” He mulled it over and appeared to concede the point. “Fine. I’ll listen. What?”

  Caro swallowed hard. Last night, learning to shift seemed to be the answer to her problems. Now, with the prospect right in front of her, it seemed to be a much less inspired plan than she had thought. Her mother had once told her that she was being foolish when she refused any training, pointing out that she was denying a fundamental part of herself that she would eventually regret.

  The woman Caro was now could admit that maybe her mother, even with all of her faults, might have been correct about this one thing. The fear of masquing was holding her back. It was time to let it go.

  “If I can shift into another masque, you let me get my things.” She blurted out the words.

  Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Caro, you haven’t even started training yet. You’re going to push things too far, too fast.”

  Her adrenaline was up now. “I’ve done it before, and you said the first was the worst.”

  “This is a bad idea,” he said flatly.

  She shrugged. “Then let me go as I am.”

  “Jesus.” He rubbed his temples with his fingers. “You’re driving me insane.”

  “Because you know I’m right. If you thought I was totally wrong, you would have said no.”

  “She has a point.” Stephan sat down on a chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. “The first deliberate shift is easier if there’s a purpose associated with it.”

  Eric groaned. “Not you too, Stephan.”

  “Sorry.” Stephan put his hands down on the arms of the chair. “If Caro wants to learn how to shift, this is a good opportunity. Tom can go with her.”

  After a long silence, Eric nodded. “Agreed. But Caro, Stephan and I decide if you pass.”

  She nodded, exhilaration fighting with fear. “What do I do?”

  Chapter 27

  Caro stood in front of him, body ready and expression relaxed. Her hands fell naturally to her sides. Only the rapid beat of her heart, visible through the trembling of her shirt, showed how wrought up she was.

  Eric sighed. Even if it was a bad idea—and his gut said it was—it was a way to get her masquing. At least he could help her when she needed it. If she needed it, he amended. For all of her scars and fears, Caro was a smart, tough woman. He’d back her before a hundred Iversons.

  “How do you shift?” she asked tensely. “I only want you to describe it.” She glanced at Stephan and nodded at Eric with understanding. She remembered his confession.

  He schooled his voice to stay steady. “Hierarchs shift a different way.”

  “How?”

  “We can access a more robust strength and can shift into both genders and choose from any kind of masque. Others can only shift into one or two, and there’s a wide range of ability between the two. We don’t know your boundaries yet, so I’m going to teach you the basic method.”

  Before she could machine-gun him with more questions, Eric pulled up an image on his laptop, then swiveled it to face her. Caro’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s Maria. My neighbor.”

  He turned the laptop away. “She’s a reasonable choice from a security standpoint since she has your keys. It wouldn’t be unusual for her to go into your apartment.”

  Caro started. “How do you know she has my keys?”

  “Tom’s efficient. Now, here’s what I want you to do. You can’t make yourself look exactly like Maria. Not an identical twin. It’s not allowed.”

  Her lip quirked. “One of the rules?”

  He nodded seriously. “We’re not allowed to shift into the masque of another recognizable living being unless we have permission.”

  “Which we don’t from Maria?”

  “No.” He put a hand on her hip to draw her in close. “Luckily, we have a workaround. You can look like her, similar to her, but not identical. So instead of working from a physical picture or a model, you’re going to shift into an impression of Maria.”

  “I’m going to pretend to be her. Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “No. You’re not going to do anything to take away from the real Maria. You’re also not supposed to try to enter any part of her life—to impersonate her.”

  She looked as if she was ready to argue some more, so Eric hastily pulled out a meditation bell, its bronze exterior blackened with age. “I’m going to ring this bell once. Then, for one minute, breathe in and out, deeply, while creating an image of Maria in your mind. Don’t worry about clothes. Think of her face, her hair. How she looks when she laughs.”

  “Got it.” Caro clenched her hands into fists. “Why a minute?”

  “It’s to give you time to think of the masque. As you gain experience, you’ll be able to shift much faster.”

  “Then what?”

  “After the minute, I’m going to ring the bell again. That’s when I want you to bring the image of Maria over you.” He thought hard. It was hard to explain this, like describing color to someone who’d never opened their eyes. Total frames of reference were missing. “Let yourself flow into the image in your mind.”

  “It sounds a little new-agey,” Caro said, her face filled with doubt. “Do you have better instructions?”

  “No.” He smiled at her and ran his finger along her nose before kissing her gently. “You can do it. Don’t let yourself think too much about it. Allow the change to happen.” He moved his hand around to her back and down to cup her ass. Gorgeous. “Then, when you come back, we can celebrate.” He pulled her in tightly, giving her lower lip a soft bite. She tasted tart, like the grapefruit she’d insisted
on for breakfast before the pastry. Caro pressed against him, no doubt forgetting all about Stephan until a soft ahem came from the door. Then she jumped back, her face flushed. She smoothed her hair.

  “Ready?” Eric asked. He made sure to smile, but his heart pounded. Could she do it? He couldn’t tell if it would upset her more to succeed or to fail.

  “Yes.” The word rang with confidence, and Eric nodded approvingly. Misgiving was fatal to masquing.

  Eric marked the time, then rang the bell. As the soft chime faded from the room, Caro inhaled. Eric watched her closely. He hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to simply stand back and watch. Dread rose in a distant corner of his mind as he began to picture masquing himself. Knock it off, asshole, this isn’t about you. Masquerada self-centeredness, as usual.

  At least he would be coaching her to shift differently than how he did. It was entirely possible that she would be able to turn into only the older blonde who had showed up at the house the other night. Most masquerada could take on only a single masque. He didn’t tell her that, though. There was no need for her to doubt herself.

  Also, there was the astounding physical strength she’d shown. Perhaps she would succeed. It would be interesting to know more of her family background. Strength was often, and he thought unfortunately, related to bloodline.

  Slowly, she shut her eyes and continued the deep breathing. A small frown caused a fine line to appear between her eyebrows and Eric knew she was trying to create the image of her neighbor in her mind.

  Caro’s eyes flew open. “I can’t remember every detail about her,” she said, frustrated. “Every time I try to focus on her, she gets hazy.”

  Eric nodded. This was common for new masquerada. “Don’t go for details. Think of the general impression of Maria. Your subconscious mind will fill in the details as you shift.”

  “The impression?”

  “I’ll give you an example.” He leaned forward and spoke so only she could hear. “This is the impression you leave with me. Light mixed with dark. Coffee-dark hair and big eyes that see right through me. A faint scent of flowers rising from your throat. Golden skin. The way you glance down for a second, before you smile at me. How I get hard watching you get dressed.”