by Emma Alisyn
He snorted, surveying the crowd. It was a mix of after work goers, university students, and couples. “Does this place have good food?”
“The fish is fresh. I’m not sure how, since we aren’t near water.”
“Florida isn’t that far a drive if he has a hook-up with a truck and a company.”
Someone bumped into her and turned, yellow eyes glowing. “‘Scuse me, sorry.”
Jezamine smiled, but Donato placed his hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. The wolf glanced once at Donato and hurried away. He wasn’t a celebrity, just a successful business man and a member of the city council. It was enough, combined with him being a dragon, to earn him a measure of recognition and interest. Jezamine shook her head, sighing as they headed towards the bar. The drake was throwing signals left and right and every shifter in the place would be talking about it. Felicity Falls had its own kind of gossip magazine, and who in society was dating whom was frequently a topic of speculation.
“Stop it,” she said. The last thing she wanted was her name or picture on a local blog or in the hot sheets.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Here. Two seats just opened up.”
She bet they did.
Aura was a short woman who compensated with outrageously high stacked heels. Jezamine knew, because she’d seen the bartender come from behind the counter once, dragon sculpted boots on her feet imported from Hollywood with a wide base that must have been six inches. She wore her dark hair in a high ponytail and a red leather waist cincher wrapped over her plain white tank accentuated ample curves. She also had the quickest hands Jezamine had ever seen, and she had no idea whether Aura was human, shifter, or a mix of something else. The woman’s aura was wrapped up tighter than a bank vault, and Jezamine had taken that as a sign not to pry.
“Whatcha drinking?” Aura asked, glancing at them with slanted dark eyes.
“Just a glass of white wine,” Jezamine said. “And maybe a sampler platter.” She was a little hungry since she’d been distracted from eating her dinner, despite the decent-sized burrito, half of which was still sitting in her fridge. Oh, well. Joshua would eat it. “Donato?”
“Vodka, splash of orange juice.”
Aura nodded and put in the order, moving away to make the drinks, interacting with other customers as she did so. She spoke in low tones, flashing a grin here and there, and whatever she was saying must have been funny because people would laugh.
Their drinks were placed in front of them moments later. “Platter will be up soon,” Aura said. “You wanna move to a booth to talk?” She glanced at Donato. “I’ve got coverage for as long as we need.” A black clad male, tall and slender, bald head covered in tattoos, slid behind Aura and began serving the customers. “I’d take you to the office, but I need to keep eyes out here. Rumor is the wolf clans are at it again, and this is one of their spots. Some pup might take it into his head to start a fight.”
“That’s fine,” Jezamine said.
After finding a booth, Aura and Jezamine discussed the particulars until they were both satisfied with the order. At some point, Jezamine opened her laptop and began crafting ingredients for three signature blends, Aura inputting her ideas for flavor combinations that would complement her drink menu.
They ended with an order and a delivery date for the first batch, and Aura slid out of the booth. “Nice talking business. Feel free to hang out, the Howlers are playing in about an hour.”
“The Howlers?” Donato asked Jezamine.
“Umm . . . country grunge rock, I think.”
“Interesting.”
Jezamine grinned, and popped an hors d'oeuvre in her mouth. Cheesy, fried, greasy goodness.
“Do you come here often?” Donato asked, watching her. “And how can you eat that processed non-food?”
“Because it’s soooooo good.”
He grimaced, but didn’t reply. Not that she would have heard him because the DJ for the night chose that moment to begin playing, coming over the loudspeaker to engage an increasingly enthusiastic crowd. Music blared, and in seconds, the dance floor was full.
No witch could resist the pull of music for long. She scooted out of the booth. “Watch my laptop, okay?”
“Where are you going?”
“To dance.” She grinned at his expression and dove into the crowd, soaking up the crackle of heightened energy. She found herself near a cluster of women, a redhead in a loose shift dress and boots and her friends. The redhead smiled, and Jezamine accepted the silent invitation. As she neared, her vision shifted just a little, out of habit.
Witch.
Damn. She’d done her best to stay away from witches because technically she was supposed to check in with the local coven, but so far no one had tracked her down. The woman didn’t seem interested in her, though, any more than one would be in a casual new dance floor acquaintance, and Jezamine relaxed.
She drifted away from the group eventually, as the beat of the music changed and with the natural flow of the crowd. Once or twice she caught green eyes glowing at her. Donato didn’t seem at all inclined to join her, but he didn’t stop watching either. She was deciding whether or not to issue him an invitation, when a presence at her back distracted her.
Jezamine turned. The male was taller than her, and wore a silk hoodie, one of the latest fashions among warlocks. Her senses caught up to her moments later as hands reached for her.
“Wife.”
She jerked backwards out of reflex, then lunged forward, swiping at his outstretched hands. The projection didn’t waver, but she saw the curve of a smile mostly hidden deep in his hood. He had to be close, probably right outside the building, if he was able to cast a projection this strong.
“Who is it?” Donato growled in her ear, suddenly at her back, hands around her waist pulling her backwards.
“Dahl. My ex.”
The projection disappeared. “There was no scent.”
“He’ll have to be close.” Suddenly, the enjoyment of the evening, the pleasure of closing a deal, evaporated. “I need to call Joshua.”
“He’s at my house.”
“What? Never mind.” She’d have a talk with her son. He couldn’t keep spending his evenings over at Kayla’s when he had homework to do, and he was supposed to be helping more with the business.
“Let’s go.” Donato ushered her towards the booth where her things were sitting and they left. “A minute.”
She moved away from the line as Donato, uncaring that he was stopping traffic, began speaking in a low tone to Morris. The bear’s eyes flicked towards Jezamine once, expression flattening, and he nodded. Jezamine blew out a breath as Donato approached her.
“What did you tell him? I don’t want my business getting all over the city.”
“He’ll be on alert, that’s all.” They reached her car without incident, but then she hadn’t expected one. “It’s not Dahl’s way to make a public scene. He’d rather be sneaky and play mind games. He just wanted to let me know he’s following me somehow.”
Donato slid his cell back in his pocket. She hadn’t even noticed him texting, busy scanning her surroundings, with and without physical eyes. “Marcello is on his way,” he said. “He’ll watch your home tonight. You’re coming with me.”
“What? No. No, that’s not a good idea.”
He opened door and waited until she was belted in to walk around to the passenger side. Jezamine stared at him as he got into her car, adjusted the seat to accommodate long legs, and crossed his arms. “I’m not arguing with you, Jezamine. The warlock made that move for a reason.” His head turned to her. “Drive.”
Jezamine inhaled. “You’re incredibly bossy, and not a cute bossy either.”
“Jezamine, I am under a great deal of stress right now. My daughter is having a baby, I have a new mate I must spend the next several weeks gentling before she comes to me, a mate who is being threatened by a warlock of unknown power, and my instincts to . . .
claim . . . are attempting to overwhelm every iota of common sense I have that screams it would be a poor decision to piss off a witch with whom I desire to build a happy home for the next several hundred years. So please. Just drive, Jezamine. Indulge me. I will feel better, and it costs you nothing except a night in a comfortable bed.”
For a long moment, Jezamine stared at him. Then she started the car and drove to his house.
15
He’d escorted her to a guest suite after spending a few minutes explaining the situation to the surprised teenagers, who’d been cuddling on the family room couch, snacking and watching television. Doing nothing more adult like, Jezamine had been relieved to see. Walking in on her son making out with his girlfriend was not something she ever wanted to go through, though she realized she would have to come to terms with the fact that he was a young man, and not a boy, eventually. Well, in about eight months.
The bed was comfortable, as Donato had promised, and had an attached bathroom which she used, emerging to find a clean set of pajamas on her bed when she’d resigned herself to putting back on her clothing. The pajamas were a pair of loose pink bottoms and an oversized t-shirt printed with a grumpy looking cat. Kayla’s probably, unless Donato kept spare women’s clothing around. The idea unsettled her, and being unsettled was even more unsettling. The male was worming his way in, and at the worst possible time. Or the best, she reminded herself reluctantly. She had to be fair. Having an ally at this time in her life wasn’t a negative.
She dressed and left the bedroom. She was too wound up for sleep, and the evening stars called her. Jezamine padded through the house as quietly as possible, made a mental note to make sure Joshua was in his own bed when she came back up, and went through the kitchen onto the back deck.
“Can’t sleep?”
Jezamine jumped, and turned. Donato stood in the corner, still in the same clothing he’d worn, with the air of a man who hadn’t done much but brood for the last hour.
“I usually read, but I wanted fresh air instead.”
He nodded and moved towards her, hands in his pockets. He was staring up in the sky as if he knew the names of the stars, and they were long lost friends. “You didn’t eat much tonight.”
“I had a big lunch. I’m not hungry.” She hesitated. “You know . . . you don’t have to do all of this. Marcello guarding the house, getting involved, everything. I could break the spell on the jewel.”
He rounded on her, eyes unblinking. “If you do that, I will fly you to my mountain and we’ll stay there for a month.”
It took her a moment to process the threat because it was said casually, without the least bit of heat.
Jezamine’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a little rapey.”
“Not at all. You would be treated with all courtesy due a lady and my mate. If, however, the temptation of my presence became too much for you . . . .”
“Keep wishing, Caruso.”
Donato held her eyes. “I do, Jezamine.”
He hadn’t moved, but it felt as if he were closer, as if his body was suddenly only a hairsbreadth from hers. Had she thought there was no heat? Fool. It was there underneath the emerald eyes, in the still tension of his body, the hands he kept tucked into his pockets. It clicked, suddenly, why he kept his hands in his pockets.
He was holding back. Had a man ever looked at her as if the entire world had faded away and nothing was left but her? Never.
“Come a little closer,” he suggested, voice a murmur. “The air is chill.”
It was not. Her feet moved, though, shuffling an inch forward. He was a handsome man, there was no denying it. Why was she hesitating? He was offering everything. Extended family, protection, companionship. Not love, though that could grow in time. Sex. She closed her eyes. How long had her body been dormant? She’d suppressed the restless occasional craving with work and raising Joshua and the sheer stress of keeping one step ahead of Dahl. Of trying to keep their life as normal as possible despite the circumstances. Of knowing that she had no sisters, and thus no one to pass the book down to, so Joshua would have to take up the mantle. But she wasn’t sure she wanted that for him. The responsibility, the burden.
Hands settled around her shoulders. “You’re tense,” he said. “Relax.”
Strong fingers dug into her flesh, kneading. She moaned, swaying.
“Stop that,” he said. “You’re giving me ideas.”
“You already have ideas. Probably nineteen times a day, according to research on the male species.”
Donato led her towards the couch, gently pushing her down and arranged them so her back was against his chest.
“Hekate knows, you’re a dangerous male,” she muttered. A stupid man would try and ply her with kisses and heavy seduction. This male knew exactly what she needed—a no strings attached massage. Though, of course, there were plenty of strings. He was just clever enough to hide them behind his back.
Lips brushed on the side of her neck. “There you go. Your body is loosening. There are many more perks to being mine, you know.”
She was barely listening to him, cocooned in heaven as his fingers worked their magic. “Hmmm . . . like what?”
“It’s the triple M.”
He didn’t say anything else, and Jezamine sighed, taking the bait. “Okay. What is the triple M?”
“Massages, Maid Service, and Meals. You can have my hands on your body for non-sexual purposes anytime you want, you don’t have to clean unless some weird feminine instinct prompts you to, and I cook. I love to cook.” His voice dropped to a low croon. “I even bake desserts, Jezamine. Homemade, from scratch, with the finest ingredients.”
Oh, Hekate. Her lower body clenched, and Jezamine realized with shock that she was completely aroused.
His chest rumbled against her back, a hiss in her ear as his arms slid around her waist, locking tight. The gentle lips on her neck did nothing to hide the fangs pressing gently into her flesh. Her skin didn’t break, and her mind scrambled to pay attention to his mouth and to his fingers, toying with her blouse and slipping underneath both to rest on her stomach, coming dangerously close to the top of her mound.
She’d never known her neck was so sensitive. Her breath caught, a shudder rippling through her body. “Donato.”
Jezamine didn’t know what prompted her to say his name, especially in that tone. What prompted her hips to shift, a wordless plea. His mouth trailed kisses up her neck, over her jaw, and a hand left her waist to clasp the back of her head, turning her lips to meet his as Donato claimed a kiss.
“Say my name again.”
The order should have made her giggle or roll her eyebrows, but it didn’t. Not when said in that guttural, commanding voice. As if her name on his lips was a brand. “Donato.”
He leaned backwards, adjusting their angle. The hand on her stomach was inside the waistband of her bottoms, cupping her bare flesh as he toyed with her lips, tasting of red wine and the apple he must have been snacking on, edged in brimstone.
“More?” he asked, voice harsh, mouth hovering over hers.
“Yesssss . . . .” It was her turn to hiss. A primal response from a part of her brain that had nothing to do with logic.
A finger delved inside her, thickening. Jezamine stiffened in shock as she realized what was happening. The ability to microshift . . . . A second finger joined the first, stretching her pussy. How long since she’d felt a man’s possession? How long since she’d wanted it?
“Skies, your pussy is so wet. Yes, just like that. Good girl . . . .” Her body clenched around him, again and again.
Her hips bucked, and his thumb pressed against her clit, massaging the tiny bud as his fingers fucked her, angling deep to locate her spot. His teeth latched on her neck again, suckling as he pumped in and out of her.
“Come for me, tesoro. Give me your pleasure.”
She cried out as her body peaked, a stunned mewl of satisfaction. Her hands wrapped around his wrists as if clinging for dear life as
pleasure rippled. At that moment, he could have done anything to her he wanted, and she wouldn’t have made a single protest. Her mind heated with feverish imaginings of everything he could do to her.
All she had to do was ask. Trust.
Embrace the side of herself that she’d shunned for so many years, with a male she knew in her bones was honorable, and trustworthy.
“Donato.”
He must have heard it in her voice because he stilled, saying nothing.
“Take me to bed.”
“Are you sure?”
“Am I a child?” she demanded hotly. “Of course I’m sure.”
He moved, rising to his feet with her in his arms so fast she was afraid he’d try to fly. Her head spun as they entered the house, Donato’s footsteps as quiet as her own. There was no time to observe the decor of his bedroom, no time to do anything but take a deep breath and dive into him.
He yanked the top off her body, a tremble in her arms as she helped, and strong fingers were on the waistband of her bottoms, pulling everything down in one swift tug. He pushed her onto the bed, and she fell on her back, watching as he stripped, eyes hot and glowing, never leaving her face.
“Do you need me to be gentle?” he asked. “Tell me what you want.”
The glasses were gone, tossed aside like the costume accessory they were. She licked her lips, giving herself permission to truly ogle him. Hard chest and muscled shoulders, chiseled abs and the lean, hard thighs of a creature who spent much of his time pursuing prey.
His cock jutted towards her, thick and beaded with moisture. She pushed up on one elbow and reached forward, wrapping her hand around the pulsing length. His eyes closed as if in pain, breath hissing between his teeth.
“I said I’m not a child. I know you’re not human. I don’t expect you to fuck like one.”
He jerked, eyes flying open as he stared at her. A smile curved his lips a moment later. “I forget the PTA is just an illusion.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I know . . . .” She laid back, spreading her legs slowly, tauntingly.