Eye of the Tempest (Jane True)

by Nicole Peeler

  None of us missed the plaintive note in his voice, and Nell smiled at him.

  “Home you go, Caleb. Thank you for your help.”

  Caleb’s magic gathered as he gave Gus one last once-over before saying his good-byes. After which Nell apparated him back to Iris in a burst of magic, tousled-blond hair, and enormous schlong.

  Lucky Iris, my libido sighed, jealously.

  Then I nearly jumped out of my skin as a hand brushed beneath my hair to grip my nape gently. Anyan (to whom, I reminded myself for about the twentieth time, I need to attach a bell) tilted my head away from him to reveal the vulnerable shell of my ear, just a little, as he leaned down toward me. My whole body shivered.

  And not in a way that has anything to do with Graeme, my libido purred, although my brain was still swirling around discontentedly.

  “Don’t leave with the others,” Anyan growled into my ear. “I want to know what happened.”

  Trill got up from the chair, giving us some space as she gave me a cheeky side-eye. Then she went and whispered to Nell.

  “Can we leave Gus here for the night?” the gnome asked, nodding at Trill’s words as she stood up from her rocking chair. She walked over to the stone spirit, placing a small hand on his forehead. “I could apparate him, but he’s so peaceful. And I’m not entirely sure where he sleeps.”

  “It’s fine, Nell. Let him rest,” Anyan said as his hand began to massage the back of my neck in a way that neither my overactive brain nor libido could argue with. My eyes closed as my body relaxed. His touch was so strong and possessive, and I felt almost hypnotized by my desire to submit…

  Just like Graeme made me feel.

  I sat bolt upright, dislodging Anyan’s hand with the force of my movement. He cast me an iron look just as we heard a thud.

  Dr. Sam, giggling, had ended up ass over teakettle from where he’d tried to sit in Nell’s rocking chair. His long, scaly green limbs waved in the air as he chortled, his lei tangled around his head.

  Nell sighed and wiggled her fingers. Dr. Sam poofed out, no doubt apparated back to Amy and her famous five-foot glass bong. Then the little woman nodded her goodbyes to us and poofed away herself and the kelpie.

  Leaving me alone with Anyan.

  I raised my eyes, slowly, to meet his. He wasn’t looking at me like he was angry. Instead, his face betrayed a hint of confusion but also a stubborn look like he just wasn’t having any of what I was dishing out.

  And since what I was dishing out were undoubtedly the lies of a known psychopath, I couldn’t blame him.

  “Outside?” he asked, inclining his head toward where Gus slept. The little stone spirit had had enough drama for the day. He didn’t need to be involved in our little Graeme-inspired soap opera.

  I nodded, and we headed toward Anyan’s front porch. Once there, he took one corner of the railing to perch on, and I took the opposite side. Our knees were almost touching, and we could see each other’s faces, but otherwise we had space.

  “What’s going on, Jane?”

  Anyan was never one to beat around the bush.

  “I’m just skeeved out from my run-in with Graeme, earlier. He was in my head. I still feel… dirty.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll work on some mental shields for you. Graeme’s talent is rare, but dangerous. Now that he’s in the picture again, we’ll get you protected.”

  I nodded, avoiding his eyes. “Well, I always wondered how he did it. I mean, how he fed on the women he tortured, since incubi aren’t supposed to be able to feed on pain.”

  Despite my logical tone of voice, I shuddered. Knowing that Graeme had literally made his victims “want it” totally skeeved me out, on so many levels. It was an ultimate act of victimization that made me hate the incubus even more, if that were possible.

  “Now,” Anyan said, his voice low, “what else is going on?”

  I hugged myself tighter, unsure of what to say.

  “Spill it, Jane. I can hear those brains of yours crunching all the way over here. You’re obviously upset, and with me. Tell me what I did.”

  Shaking my head, I finally met his eyes. “You didn’t do anything. I promise. It’s just that Graeme said something. About you. Being like him.”

  “And you believe him?” Anyan’s voice, considering the fact I’d just compared him to a vicious sexual predator, was remarkably calm.

  “Of course not,” I replied. “I mean, I know you’re not like him.”

  “But?” Anyan asked, playing our old game, now gone horribly less fun.

  “But…” I paused to think, and then decided thinking wasn’t going to work. Sometimes, the best way to come at an issue was by babbling it into submission. “But you scare me, to be honest. Not the way Graeme does. I do know you’re nothing like him. But you’re still… still a lot. A lot to handle. I don’t mean your junk, obviously, as we’ve not gotten to the fondling-bits stage yet. And I can’t believe I just talked about your junk. Anyway, I’m not saying you’re not a lot to handle, in the junk department, but I meant ‘a lot’ more as in, like, ‘you.’ You’re a lot. Just… a lot.”

  I finally stuck a cork in it, amazed, once again, at how much absolute shite could fall out of my own face.

  Anyan frowned at me for a second. It wasn’t a look of anger, more of concentration as his brain scrambled to tease apart my word snarl. Then he smiled.

  Why’s he smiling? my brain wondered as I dropped my eyes downward, unable to meet the intensity of his gaze.

  Who cares? Lick him! my libido answered.

  Meanwhile, I sat with my hands in my lap, again feeling a bit like a bunny rabbit in the sights of a hunter.

  Only I kind of like it when it’s Anyan, I realized. So I forced myself to look back up at him. His eyes had grown hot, and I knew things were going to come to a head.

  You thought that on purpose, my virtue chided, as my libido chortled.

  Mmm. Head, was its only reply.

  “You know I would never hurt you,” he asked. His voice was rough with lust, and it made my spine quiver.

  “Of course,” I replied, forcing my eyes to stay on his.

  “But you’re afraid of me?”

  “That’s not it, really. It’s just… It’s more like… I’m just…” Scared shitless of this whole thing, I thought, not wanting to admit it.

  “So you’re not really afraid of me. But you’re afraid of something involving me?”

  I frowned. “Obviously, but that doesn’t mean…”

  “Are you afraid of how you feel? Of how I make you feel?” With those words, Anyan stood his long frame up from where he’d been sitting on his verandah railing and came to stand in front of me. He towered over me, of course.

  “Stop it. You always do that. You get up in my space and I feel… crowded.”

  Instead of moving back, he moved a step closer.

  “Is that all you feel?” he asked, doing his best imitation of Socrates. “Crowded?”

  Gagagagagaga, my libido supplied, helpfully. It also sent my blood skittering to all the organs my blood shouldn’t be in, if I wanted to think. And I did want to think, damn it.

  Thinking bad. Railing sex goooood, was my libido’s only response to my complaints.

  The feel of the barghest’s big hands on my thighs, right above my knees, jolted me back into awareness. My eyes traveled to Anyan’s wide mouth, his lips pursed in concentration.

  “Answer me, Jane,” he commanded, making me shiver again.

  “Stop telling me to do things,” I replied, sharply. He only smiled.

  “I like telling you to do things.”

  “Quit it. I’m not a little girl.”

  “No, you’re not. I know that. And you know I know that.”

  I kept schtum, unsure where this was heading.

  “You know that I think you’re brilliant. And brave. And strong,” he said, stepping closer even as his hands spread my thighs, just a little, to accommodate him. “You know I respect you, utterly. Which is why
you like it, despite yourself, when I do things like this…”

  And with those words, his hand reached behind me and did that knotting trick, where he gathered all my hair up in a rough queue, before tugging my head back, not quite gently. As if prompted to do so, my breathing deepened and lust poured through my veins.

  “Because you know it’s a game,” Anyan said, as his teeth bit gently into my neck, a lovely sensation that had nothing to do with Graeme’s cruelty and everything to do with pleasure, shared. His tongue licked at the spot his teeth had been, as if my skin were as sweet as ice cream.

  “A game?” I mumbled, unsure whether we were actually having a conversation or if we really were about to have railing sex.

  Railing sex! my libido exulted.

  “Mmm-hmmm,” the barghest purred, the sound muffled as he moved his mouth to bite the other side of my neck, a bit harder this time. The sting was delicious, as was the hand he moved to cup the bit of my bottom overhanging the railing. The grunt I gave at the feel of his teeth on my flesh gave way to a soft moan as his tongue again licked, taking away the sting.

  “A game,” he repeated, withdrawing his mouth so he could look me in the face. His eyes were latched on my mouth, his own still pursed a little in concentration, as if he were busy mentally enumerating all the filthy things he could do to me.

  I’ve got 150… more if we can source a goat, my libido challenged his, silently. My virtue warned that Anyan was probably more than up to such a provocation.

  And just like that, he moved his hips in tighter to mine, his body opening my legs farther until he was hard up against me and I could feel just how “up” for the challenge he really was.

  “What kind of game?” I squeaked, in lieu of humping him like a Maltese in heat. His big hands pulled me forward as his eyes went to mine. The look of desire I saw there took my own lust and magnified it a thousand times. The sight nearly took my breath away, and at that moment I wanted Anyan more than I’d ever wanted any man. Even Jason.

  “A game where you let me be the boss, in the bedroom. You let me take control. You let me show you just how much I want you. You let me take that sweet little body and make it feel.”

  Where do I sign? my libido asked, completely sold.

  “And then?” my brain forced me to ask, unsure whether it wanted to be anybody’s love slave, no matter how tempting the offer.

  “And then we can switch,” Anyan said, his lips twitching in a smile. “And I’ll be all yours.”

  I couldn’t help but smile back, and then giggle at the images that raced through my head: Anyan in a French maid’s uniform… Anyan wearing a saddle… Anyan in lederhosen, wielding an enormous sausage…

  “Just be gentle,” he warned. “I’m delicate.”

  “Delicate my ass,” I said, laughing outright.

  But all laughter ceased as his hands found my hair. One went to the nape of my neck, while the other got a firm grip on my hair. Then Anyan tugged my head back, so that my spine had to arch over his forearm, my face upturned to the evening sky. I knew he was giving me a taste of what he wanted from me—a kind of submissiveness that both excited and scared me.

  To be entirely honest, though, I was mostly excited.

  My heart crashed against my ribcage and I was barely able to breathe through my nervousness. All I could see was the moon hanging plump and ripe in the center of my vision. My hands moved to Anyan’s wide shoulders, my nails digging into his shirt as my fists clenched. I’d never felt so vulnerable.

  Which is why, when Anyan’s big hand moved my shirt up my body, I gasped. His calloused hands rasped deliciously against the soft skin covering my ribs, and then his fingers moved over the thin material of my bra—an admittedly rather serviceable cotton jobbie. I moaned, feeling my nipples harden, but still, when his mouth found my left breast, I nearly jumped out of my skin. First of all, it was patently unfair of him to go diving straight for my nipples. We’d never even kissed properly, and there he was, skipping entire bases. Second, I’d never before been touched the way Anyan touched me. His mouth on my flesh was hard, persistent, even through the thin material of my bra. Calloused fingers that squeezed around my breast accompanied his mouth as if he were taking possession of my body, as if he owned me.

  I’d only really been touched by two men in my life. And, while I know it’s not right to compare, I couldn’t help it. Jason had been all tender solicitude, and Ryu had camouflaged his delightfully filthy nature under the guise of being a gentleman. But Anyan’s touch was demanding, insistent—almost frightening, if I was honest. His mouth and his hands promised he was never going to back down, never going to yield, until he’d taken what he wanted.

  When he nipped at my breast, none too gently, I felt a rush of heat flush through my body. Then, after sucking away the sting, he moved his shaggy head over to latch that wide mouth onto my right nipple, but not before roughly pulling down the fabric of my bra, so that his lips found my bare skin I thought I saw stars as I wondered, belatedly, whether we were gonna need a safety word.

  It’ll be Geronimoooooooo… “Oooooooh,” I said, before my feeble attempt at self preservation dissolved into a throaty moan as Anyan released my hair to wrap his arms around me, pulling me forward as he suckled hungrily at my breast. I raised my head as I twined my own fingers in his hair, taking back a modicum of control by grinding my hips against his and causing him to release my flesh with a gasp.

  Then I was the one tugging on hair, as I pulled his head back. His eyes were closed, his lips parted. Zeroing in on his mouth, I moved forward to kiss him.

  If we are going to do this, we’re going to do it in the correct order, I reprimanded him mentally, as I stopped just short of a smooch to nuzzle my own nose against his. I couldn’t help it. I felt the tip twitch against mine, making me giggle. But my laughter ceased at the hungry look in his eyes.

  “Bad, bad puppy,” I murmured.

  Then his lips found mine. The first few seconds of our first real kiss were hardly movie quality: I had my mouth open, so our teeth clanged against each other like gongs. Then we had to figure out how my small mouth would fit against his wide one, which took a few moments.

  But then it all fell into place, and his kiss sent my world tumbling in a gyre.

  His mouth was hard, insistent, daring me to pull away. So I met his ferocity with my own, suddenly wanting to eat him up like pie. I was the first one to bring tongues into play, licking gently at his lower lip until his mouth opened to mine. Our tongues met on his turf, swirling against each other, his following mine back into my own mouth. I sucked at his tongue hungrily, suddenly desperately wanting to be filled by him, wanting to taste him, just wanting…

  And Anyan was happy to oblige. His body rubbed against mine as he pulled me closer. I wasn’t sure if I was even on the railing anymore, or if he was holding me to him. My legs twined around his waist, pressing the heat at my center against his hard abdomen, my heart thumping in my chest.

  Our kiss deepened, impossibly. It felt like I was feeding from him even as I fed him a bit of myself. I was losing myself in Anyan’s mouth, but my body was ready to move on. My own hand in Anyan’s hair pulled him back from me just enough so that I could reach to pull my plain, long-sleeved black tee all the way off. I felt the railing under my butt, again, as he put me down so his hands could move to fumble at my bra strap. While he worked, I placed my palms on either side of his face, as I feathered kisses over his eyelids and forehead, finally dropping down to suck just the tip of that ridiculously sexy nose.

  “Shit,” Anyan swore, under his breath. He was having trouble with my bra strap, which amused me no end.

  Who’s the dominant one here now, Mr. Let Me Take Control? I thought smugly, until the barghest resolved the issue by taking a firm hold of either side of my bra’s clasp and pulling till I heard a snap.

  Shit, it was my turn to swear.

  But before I could think any further on the demise of my delicates, Anyan’s hands were
at my bare breasts. His fingers squeezed my nipples while his palms cupped and I nearly swooned at the sensations.

  He used the opportunity of my head-thrown-back moan to find my neck again, kissing and biting his way down the left side until his shaggy curls tickled my chest. Then he kept kissing downward, working his way left till I felt his warm breath on my bare nipple.

  At least we have run the bases properly this time, my virtue acceded, completely overwhelmed by lust, along with all the rest of my systems.

  Then Anyan’s hot mouth suckled, and I thought I might overload on the pleasure of it.

  My right hand braced myself on the railing as my left found its way into his hair. Running my fingers through his curls as he suckled me, I looked down at him, feeling a curious mixture of possession and pride. I knew that part of my pleasure was from knowing that this was Anyan at my breast. I’d wanted him for so long, and was as elated at having him, finally, as I was terrified.

  He came up for air only long enough to steal a quick, hard kiss before attending to my other nipple. One couldn’t accuse this shapeshifting man-dog of not being thorough, bless him.

  While I was enjoying the barghest’s attentions immensely, however, I also wanted to do my own exploring. So I tugged, tentatively, on his hair. As if in approbation, Anyan bit the soft underside of my breast sharply, making me gasp. But he also moved his head back and up so he was, once again, towering over me.

  “I want to touch you, too,” I breathed, causing his lips to quirk either with a smile or desire, or both. I reached my hand under the bottom of his shirt, running my fingertips over his abdomen as he went to pull off the pesky bit of material separating me from my barghest chest.

  Which is when we heard the polite cough from the doorway.

  Anyan and I froze, both of our eyes wide. You’d think after being attacked, together, we’d have learned not to let our guard down.

  Or our brassieres.

  Anyan turned around, carefully shielding me with his wide shoulders as I peered about for my shirt. I didn’t see it anywhere, of course, and presumed the naughty barghest had kiestered it when I wasn’t looking.