ShiftingHeat

by Lynne Connolly

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he said very softly. “We might have to pretend to be together, but don’t feel you have to.”

  “I don’t.” She kissed him again. Because she wanted to.

  He kissed her back, although he pulled away again. He stared at her, his eyes wide. So blue, as if he held the world in there. “Thanks. But—”

  “Shut up.” She curled her hand around the back of his neck and dragged him closer, preparing to bear all his weight if she took him off balance. Close, he felt strong, warm, perfect. Her mouth met his and she didn’t care anymore. Not for anyone or anything outside this room.

  She touched his lips with her tongue, traced the shape and he opened as if he could do nothing else. She tasted him, slowly, carefully, slid her tongue along his, circled it, caressed it. And eventually he responded. Caressed her back, let her explore his mouth while he explored hers. He cupped the back of her head, his crutch clanging against the table disregarded by both of them.

  When she kissed Andros, she felt perfection touch her. Sweet, delicious, and she needed nothing else. Everything she’d done in her life, the restlessness that had chased her down the years, disappeared when she kissed him, when he touched her. So good.

  She didn’t want to stop but they couldn’t stay here much longer. They separated slowly and he brought his hand down, propping his support against the floor. “They’ll come in soon,” he murmured. “They’ll ask me if I’m all right, if they can do anything for me, get me a meal, help me to my apartment. They do that when you’re disabled. They don’t understand. But you do, don’t you?”

  “That you’re scared you’ll grow dependent too soon? You’ll need people to do things for you? Yes, I know.”

  “How?”

  “I lost my parents when I was ten. Everyone was very kind when they disappeared, so kind I wanted to scream at them, tell them to get the hell away from me. It’s like that, isn’t it?”

  “Something like that.”

  In perfect accord, they left the room. They couldn’t hold hands but they moved together when the doctor asked him if he’d be okay, and Ann asked him if he wanted her to call a catering service and have a meal sent. They assured everyone they’d be fine and they went together to his apartment.

  The minute he closed the door, Andros let out a long sigh of relief. “Weird,” he said. “But this feels normal.”

  She turned in the act of going through the hallway to the bathroom. “You spent most of your life like this. Just go with the flow. I thought I’d pour you a bath.”

  He grinned. ”Bless you. But I really want a shower. Just water pouring over me. There’s a chair in the bathroom, a plastic one. Can you put it in the shower stall?”

  She did as he asked, her heart aching for him. He’d lived like this, knowing he had little chance of a cure. He’d seen his sister transform into a powerful being, a change that would have cured him and yet, when he spoke of her or even thought of her, she’d never detected jealousy or resentment. She didn’t know if she could have kept that completely away, in the same circumstances.

  She turned around to see him propped against the doorway, a silver-topped cane supporting his weakened legs. He glanced at the ebony stick with a silver dragon sitting on top, its tail wound around the wood several times and ending in a crystal that caught the bright light. “A present from my sister before I turned dragon. Prophetic, don’t you think?”

  “Except dragons don’t usually have tails that long. But it’s beautiful.”

  “I have several. Also several pairs of decorated crutches and a couple of wheelchairs. One is state of the art. I thought of donating it to a worthy cause, but maybe it’s just as well I didn’t.”

  He stepped forward carefully, placing his foot and then testing it before he leaned into the step. He used the cane to support his body weight on the other side of the foot he put his weight on. He was an expert at this.

  Using the wall to lean against, he drew the T-shirt off and tossed it aside. She stared at him, lost in contemplation of his wonderful, supple body. Not so supple now, but still beautiful. “Were you—I mean—”

  He glanced down at his body and gave a short laugh. “I’d like to think you meant was I always this ripped. The answer’s yes, in the upper body. You need strength to drag the useless bits around. My legs—not so much, but I had physiotherapy and massage to help keep them going.” He undid his belt and unzipped his jeans, kept his attention on that. “I kept my legs as strong as I could, and my arms. Becker’s often affects the extremities first, so all the typing and gaming helped. And it kept my mind off things.” He lifted his chin and stared at her. “I can manage now, if that’s what you’re waiting for. Why don’t you make us some coffee?”

  She felt dismissed. Hurt, she turned to leave, but changed her mind. “I’ll make us coffee later. You don’t have to accept anything I offer you, but I want this to affect as little as possible about us.”

  He gave her a smile much older than his years. Weary and knowing. She hated that he’d learned how to do that. She ached for him. “Oh, but it does. I need help when I get up in the night to piss, or I need to remember to have everything ready. I need ramps, elevators, a living area on one level. People make a fuss to ensure I can access a building, rooms, and they stare, although they try not to.”

  “Mortals stare at anyone who’s different.”

  He paused and gazed at her. “Fuck, I’m a whiny bitch, aren’t I? The other side effect is feeling too sorry for yourself. Of course you know. Did they guess you were a Talent? Other than the people your mother told?”

  She shrugged. “I think Joyce Cardross told most people, although not all of them believed her and I never let anyone see my monthly shape-shifts. People pointed and stared. I said I didn’t care, but I was a kid—of course I did.” She shrugged again and knelt at his feet. “I got over it.”

  She got rid of his jeans and underwear with a tug, and dragged off his socks to join the pile of discarded clothing. Then she took his face between her hands and planted a kiss on his mouth. “That’s for being utterly gorgeous. Now let me help you into the shower.”

  “Are you joining me? I can’t reach every part of me.”

  “Now that is a come-on I can’t resist.”

  She held steady when he leaned on her so he could take the two steps into the shower. It was a walk-in shower, the only difference between the floor of the bathroom a small drain and a change of color in the tiles. He’d had this apartment when he was still disabled, and he could have climbed in on his own with ease. He sat on the plastic chair and leaned back to switch on the water. It cascaded on him from the spider showerhead above, anointing his body with rivulets of trickling liquid that she longed to lick off him. Later. She promised herself the treat for later.

  She stripped quickly, all the time aware of his gaze warming her body, wondering what else the drugs had affected. She turned around from dropping her panties on the pile of discarded clothes and caught him licking his lips. Putting one hand on her hip, she sauntered toward him. “Oh yeah? Hungry, are we?”

  The expression in his gaze told her he was. “For one thing. For you. Come here and let me taste you before I starve to death.”

  If she’d imagined that his temporary condition would have any effect on his libido, she’d have been wrong. His cock rose, pointing at her with the eagerness of a favorite dog needing a walk. Well as far as she was concerned, it needed all the exercise she could give it. Of course he was still hot. He was Andros. The only thing that surprised her was that she felt like this for anyone at all. She’d never given herself completely in a relationship before, never let anyone control their play as she did him. Never given anyone her heart, and she was perilously close to doing that.

  He sat back in his chair, opening his legs, tacitly inviting her to play. She needed no other invitation. She stepped into the shower, feeling the change in texture under her feet, from smooth tile to nubbed, non-slip surface, and enjoyed
the sensation of hot water playing on her body.

  She stepped over him and straddled his thighs but took care not to touch. He stared up at her face then took in the rest of her body, his gaze slowly descending from her hardening nipples to her pussy, wet from more than water. Only then did he lift one hand and touch her. The tip of her clit. She sucked in a breath and gave a moan when he pinched it, then rubbed, unerringly waking her body.

  She bent her legs, intending to lower her body onto his, but he placed a hand on her thigh, preventing her. “Lean over me. Let me taste you like you promised I could.”

  Oh God. Fuck, yes. She shuffled closer until she felt his breath warm her cleft. He was looking. Knowing that, knowing he could arouse her like nobody else ever had sent sparks through her. Steam rose from the water but she felt as if she were making it. Her body heated from the inside out.

  He kept rubbing her clit, murmuring to her that she was beautiful, that he could smell how aroused she was. “I’d know you from your perfume alone. In the dark. Anywhere. Better than anything else.” He licked her, taking her essence into his mouth, sucking it in, savoring it. “Mmm.”

  Faye tipped her head back to let the water pour over her face. And he tasted her, sucked and caressed. His mouth took over from his fingers and the sensation was so exquisite she knew she’d never get enough. She had to lock her knees in position or she would have fallen over him. Spreading her hands out blindly, she felt the cool tiled wall on one side and she set her palm against it with gratitude.

  He teased her with light, fleeting kisses and laps of his tongue, not settling on her clit or her pussy. Tasting, not drinking. “Oh God, Andros, please, please, just do it!”

  She heard his voice in her head. And wreck a perfect end to a shitty day? Take it, baby, and quit complaining.

  The laughter in his tone warmed her more than the water. Not as much as his tongue. And she liked him calling her “baby”. She’d always hated that before. Oh fuck, she couldn’t think straight now.

  He gripped her thigh and urged her closer. She obeyed only too eagerly, pressing her pussy against his mouth, opening her thighs wide so he could get to every part of her. He slipped his hand around to her buttocks, cupped one cheek and held on. She felt his fingers pressed into the soft flesh and wanted the imprint of his fingers on her. A reminder. One finger slipped into the cleft between her butt cheeks and stayed there. A thrill went right up her spine, blossoming in her mind. And when he finally opened his mouth and sucked her clit in, his forefinger settled over her anus.

  She’d never enjoyed that, either, but if she told him to stop, she’d never know. It took a measure of trust to let anyone touch her there, but she trusted Andros.

  Swallowing, she moved closer, bending her legs a little to push her pussy over his face, grind it into him.

  He chuckled and sucked, sending waves of exquisite sensation through her body, warming her stomach, making her lungs burn, her mind cry out for him. She managed his name, choked it out as he worked her. He spread his fingers, kept his forefinger on her backside, but slid his pinkie down until it touched her wet opening. It felt wide open and she wanted him there. Wanted to sink down on him until she engulfed his cock, give him some of the torture he was meting out to her. Never had torture felt so good.

  With a flex of his fingers, he slipped inside. Both openings breached, with him teasing and sucking her clit, his tongue curving around the delicate, erect flesh and loving it. She sent him all the pleasure she had, shared the pleasure and then the torture of hovering on the brink, the agonizing, wonderful few seconds before the inevitable happened.

  He pushed in her pussy with his thumb and her anus with his pinkie and then he sucked her clit in short, hard bursts. The devilish movements had her gasping, and then that tiny immeasurable moment when everything came together, just before—

  “Oh fuck, oh God!”

  She held herself upright by sheer will, her hand pressing desperately against the wall as everything inside combusted, melted and eventually, after an untold time, re-formed.

  Slowly her vision returned. She blinked, focusing on her lover. Andros stared up at her, blond hair slicked to his skull, blue eyes hot. Waiting for her to come back to him. She put her hands on the back of his chair and bent her knees, slowly lowering her body onto his. “Your turn.”

  “Oh yeah. Do me now.”

  She stopped, hovering above his cock, letting its tip graze her pussy. For the moment she was sated, although she still wanted him inside her, just not as desperately as she had a moment before. “Why should I?”

  “Because you want me?”

  “You want me more.” To prove her point, she leaned in and kissed him, making it long, slow and wet. But not pushing down. He tried by lifting his body, the effort straining his shoulder muscles, but sat back with a groan. In his weakened condition, he couldn’t do it. But she could see from his eyes that he loved it, reveled in her teasing. He released her lips gradually, gently and leaned back. “Do it.”

  “Why? Tell me.”

  “Because I want you to. Because I want you so much right now.” Not because he needed her, not because she should feel sorry for him. This was how it should be between them, how it always would be. A smile curved her mouth, reflecting the warmth and understanding he’d brought to her.

  But warmth and understanding weren’t what she wanted right now. She wanted what he wanted.

  Without warning, careful to keep her intent out of her thoughts, she sank down on his cock, not stopping until her ass touched his thighs. Watching his face, she saw his pupils contract to pinpoints then expand, swallowing the bright blue. He blinked, and then she rose and sank down again.

  They sighed in mutual pleasure. He slid one hand over her back, up her spine, and she felt more than his hand caressing her. The poignant scent of lavender wreathed around her. He grinned at her surprise. “When you have showers sitting down, you need everything within reach.” He leaned forward to kiss her, making it sweet this time, until she opened her mouth and licked his lips. Then he growled and dragged her close, treating her to lips, tongue and teeth, which she returned in full measure. He slid his soapy hand along her spine, shaping her muscles, helping her rhythmic rise and fall. She leaned back, drawing away from the kiss, and found a new spot inside her with a different though equally delicious sensation. Every time she rose, his cock skimmed over her sweet spot, the best part. It grew hard to concentrate so she set the rhythm, not trying anything tricky. She left that to him.

  He re-soaped his hand, transferred some of the suds to his other hand and rubbed her, smoothing her muscles, easing the tension she hadn’t realized she felt before he’d put his hands on her. Neither did she realize she was making small “mmm” sounds until he echoed her and urged her upper body closer so he could lick and suck on her nipples.

  He kissed a ring around one areola, glanced up at her and sucked it in, watching her all the time, his dark, blue-rimmed eyes missing nothing. You’re delicious. Come for me again, Faye. Come for yourself.

  Her first spasm came out of the blue. The second convulsed her in hard, racking contractions, violent pulses of orgasm taking over all her senses, rocketing her to a place where he joined her. Their groans mingled, echoing around the room, and her final cry of “Andros!” rang out.

  They held each other, their bodies trembling in the aftermath of their shared release. Faye had never felt closer to anyone before in her life. She hadn’t known it was possible to be this close to anyone before she’d met him.

  Was she in trouble. She never, ever wanted this to end. Already she knew she wanted him with a hopelessness she couldn’t let him know about. Not if she wanted to retain herself, her character. Her independence.

  She was still in the dreaming flow of the orgasm as he turned off the water and grabbed a towel before rubbing them down vigorously. “I don’t know if you realized, but the water’s going cold. We’ve been here a long time, sweetheart.”

  She gave
a shaky laugh and found a towel too, scrubbing at his hair until it stood in damp spikes. “You’re not supposed to get cold.”

  “One more thing before we climb between the sheets.” When he winced, she doubted anyone else would have known it, but she sensed it and got to her feet. “I’m too heavy for you,” she said.

  “Never.”

  She helped him to his feet but with the help of his cane he went into the bedroom on his own, a towel slung around his suddenly slender-looking hips. The drugs seemed to have pulled flesh from his bones. “You look thinner,” she said.

  He switched on the bedside light and sat down before propping his cane on the nightstand. “Did I feel thinner just now?”

  “No.” He didn’t. He felt as strong and lithe as she’d ever known him.

  “It’s the devil’s work.” He gave a short laugh. “Or rather, it’s the work of a Sorcerer, who planted certain suggestions in me—with my permission. She said it was what they used to call a glamor. A bit like fuzzing. People will see me as smaller, slimmer. Paler.”

  “I never thought of you as particularly tan. But not pale either.”

  “Naturally pale skin plus years in L.A. leads to something almost normal.” He shrugged. “Come to bed. Let me show you my drugs.”

  How could she resist an invitation like that? She couldn’t, but after she’d learned which of the three bottles of pills he had to take and when, she tossed them back in the drawer and found something far more interesting to do.

  Chapter Eight

  Find out who killed Serena. Stop them. Find out who was killing Talents with antique weapons. Andros tried to keep his two objectives clear in his head, but something kept messing it up. Faye. He wanted her out of danger, but he knew she’d reject any attempt to get her clear. Surely someone else could do it.