Her Insatiable Dark Heroes

by Her Insatiable Dark Heroes (lit)

  “Why?”

  “Close your eyes.” He lowered his voice, pretending to command her. Slowly he backed her up, his hand caressing her head.

  “What for?” she stubbornly demanded.

  He covered her eyes with his palm, easing her back into a corridor that would lead to a room they’d used for storage. Until now. “Don’t peek.”

  “What am I not peeking at?”

  “You’ll see in a few moments.”

  “Smelly donkey crap,” she cursed. Yet he felt her body tense with excitement and her curiosity. An answering warmth spread through him because he was about to give her something she wanted.

  Stopping beneath the archway into the fancy room, he removed his hand and gently twirled her around. He felt her breath leave her body in a huge gasp of surprise. “Oh, my things. And more.” She quickly moved into the large room. “Did you bring them?”

  “I helped Zion and Zotorro. Look in the dressing room.”

  “When did you all have time and where did you find all this furniture? Scavenging?”

  She moved toward the dressing room, her gaze wandering over everything along the way. The fiery length of her hair waved as if alive, subtly dancing against the creaminess of her skin. The heavy silken strands accented her lush supple body, especially her long, gorgeously curved legs. God, she made him happy.

  “It was a rush job,” he teased. It had been, brought on by Zavier’s telepathic encouragement. They’d super-zoomed back and forth while Zavier took care of her. With the threat of severe flooding, and all of them wanting to please her, they worked as a team to gather up all of her belongings and arrange some furniture for her. “Scavenging, yes,” he continued. “Mostly from deserted warehouses.”

  He waited until she’d fully entered the dressing room, and then strode across the room to watch her reaction. He hoped it was mostly good. That somehow, by the Divine’s great favor, she would or could forgive them, eventually, for Claiming her.

  “You brought them,” she spoke as he entered. “All of them. My dance costumes.”

  “Every costume we could find darlin’.”

  Gradually, she turned in a complete circle, her eyes wide and gleaming like the sea had once done beneath a strong summer sun. “I don’t know whether to loathe you or thank you.”

  Leaning against the doorframe because he was fatigued, he baited, “Why don’t you thank me, since your dance club was evacuated and the water was seeping in.”

  She spun to him with her athletic and ephemeral grace, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you. Thank you for saving them. Now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Insatiable Dark Hero, I’d like to put something on, unless you expect a carnal favor.”

  “I always expect those.” He grinned while she fumed. Pivoting, he headed for the bed they’d found for her. The frame was all fancy curling designs and constructed of dark rich wood. “Wendy, why don’t you arrange things how you want them? And I’ll just watch until my eyelids refuse to stay open.”

  Stripping off his flight suit, he tossed it on the floor at the end of the bed, and then launched himself on top. Swiftly he pulled one of the pink blankets they collected just for her over himself and leaned back on his arms.

  “Make yourself comfy,” she called out, a razor’s edge to her voice.

  “Comfy. Just consider me your best friend. Here for a chat.”

  “You lost that privilege, you rutting donkey butt.”

  Going through her small pile of clothing, she pulled out a worn pair of garden overalls and quickly stepped into them. He wondered if she thought that would make her unattractive to them, or if it was a tiny up yours with a blasting hose? When she bent over to sort through the garments, he admired the blatant round thrust of her ass. Ignoring his stirring cock, he settled more comfortably in the bed. As she placed the clothes inside the box-shaped drawers within the large wardrobe, her breasts jiggled in a manner that had him smiling to himself.

  “Lost my privilege? I’ll have to figure out how to earn my way back into your good friendship graces.”

  She paused a moment to glare her disbelief at him, then began hunting through a stack of small chests. “Where did you put my shoes?”

  “On the other side of the bed.”

  She flounced for a few strides, and then walked around the foot of the bed. “Why are you still here?”

  “Protection, darling.”

  “You’re just protecting your libido from being denied.”

  Zent chuckled loudly, despite being tired. “That, too.”

  Digging through a large container that had been in her apartment, she pulled out a stained pair of sponge-soled sandals and slipped them on. “You can’t watch me if you fall asleep,” she pointed out. “And I’ll bet my last coin, if I had one, that Zion and Zotorro are out like lights.”

  Alarm slithered up his belly. What if she decided to jump and tried flying as flame again?

  “Should you be in the restoration cubicle?” she asked as she rummaged through another beat-up container. She pulled out summer clothing he recognized, which she might have kept for sentimental reasons, then carried the bundle over to the wardrobe.

  “Not for this level of exhaustion. We weren’t damaged.”

  “So, Dark Hero, what are you going to do about Mowzolinn? It feels like Chrontropolis is on his strike-with-lightning hit list. Or is that his destruction-by-tornado list?”

  “Despotic tyrant types despise the successful rise of any group or city.”

  “Little ole Chrontropolis threatens the big bad man,” she sang sarcastically. Picking up her small stack of books, she placed them on a shelf inside the wardrobe. “Chrontropolis has fought back so often, all of us citizens aren’t going to give up now. Geez oh, please, what’s next, a blizzard to end all holy blizzards, even though we don’t get snow here?”

  Now alarm kicked him in the balls. Ferociously. “Intuition, Wendy?”

  “Could be. It’s happened before. I’ll just pop out with something like that and it happens.”

  “Snowstorm,” he mused, knowing it was a possibility since killer blizzards had been used in the weather wars two times that he was aware of.

  “I think the four Invincible Dark Brothers should corner Luby. Find out what she really knows.” She whirled around, an enormous catty smile on her face. “I know. Toss her around like a game ball, only while you’re flying.”

  The picture of Luby being passed back and forth as they soared, then popped over the top of buildings in a game of catch, made him grin. “I think her terrified shrieking would get in the way of any useful confession.”

  “One of you could sacrifice your super indomitable erection.” She eyed his groin, and then planted a hand on her tilted hip in a sultry pose. “Give her a rutting ride to a panting paradise. She’d probably confess anything in the throes of steamy passion. I can just see it now.” She clasped her hands together, and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, Dark Humping Hero, give it to me again, please, please, please, oh, please. I can’t get enough of you jamming that giant steely rod between my thighs, inside my hungry salivating pussy. Just let me apply some more lipstick.”

  Zent rumbled with laughter, and then aimed a serious gaze at her. “Which one of us, Wendy? Which one of us would you send on that mission?”

  She shrugged flippantly, averting her face. “How did you four decide anything? As I recall you played trip and pin. The last one standing chose to be the winner or chose the loser.”

  “We used to like it a lot when you watched us.” Zent made his own confession, his voice deep and raspy. She shook as if his timbre had touched her skin. “If I lost, would you send me?”

  Within moments her face flushed a bright red. “No.”

  “Zotorro?”

  “No.”

  “Zion?”

  “No.”

  “Zavier?”

  “No! Damn it, you donkey big brain. Okay, get one of your Super Guy pals to go plug her voracious oh-so-sassy pussy.”

/>   “Talk about a sassy redheaded kwim. Come on over here. I’ll stroke your pussy to purring satisfaction.”

  “Yeppers peppers, keep sweet-talking me like that and I’m yours.” She irately flung the words at him. “I’m not one of your eager beaver fuck-me playmates.” After a glare, she marched around swiftly, organizing the rest of her few possessions.

  Truth to God’s ear, he couldn’t disagree with her assessment of the women he’d been with. And, yep, he’d preferred them with begging pussies and whispering ‘fuck me’ in his ear. That was before her. And before now. Now, all he desperately ached to do was please her. He wanted to please the woman in her and please her, Wendy. Even though, grant him true wisdom, all he had to do was wait until she raged for his ‘fucking’ attentions.

  He’d promised to deliver on her sexual fantasies. And he’d meant it, swear down to his soul. Even though the primitive in him also demanded she be at his mercy, so his cock could drive into her whenever and however he wanted. Ironically, his state of fatigue assisted him, giving him time to think. And time to study her.

  “Sorry, darlin’. It will take some adjusting on my part.” She gave him a sideways glance, and then folded one of the blankets they’d tossed near a chest. “I never thought of myself as husband material before. At least, not before all hell took over our world.”

  “Husband?” Trepidation and the ready strike of her female claws were inside her soft response.

  Eyeing her, he figured he’d brave the strike. “We are your husbands now, even if there is no formal marriage ceremony.”

  “That’s donkey-braying ridiculous.” Her chin hit the heights while her eyes lit up with the radiance of a goddess. “For one thing, I never consented to anything that even remotely sounded like a marriage proposal. Being abducted, claimed, whatever you label it—trained to your decadent sex preferences—does not, in any way, make you like a husband.”

  She had a fair point, he conceded to himself. “Then why am I feeling like a husband?”

  “Delusion. Somewhere in that Harbinger-transformed brain of yours, you feel guilty. And this is your way of justifying what you’ve done. What all four of you have done.” Sparks from her flame glittered all around her like floating gems.

  “Look in the mirror panel, Wendy.”

  She spun around before she thought, gazing at her reflection. In awe, she slowly approached. “Wowza.” On inspiration she twirled, then whirled on the ball of her foot. “Could I ever use this ability when I perform?”

  “Yes,” Zent envisioned her in one of her skimpier costumes, dancing as an exotic princess, and the jewels of her fire sparkling all around her. “You know, Wendy, we could set up a performance area. Then use the screen to transmit out to an audience.”

  “It’s not the same,” she snapped, facing him. “But it might work.” She scowled impressively, even as she considered the idea.

  “We could create the setting and stage of your dreams,” he tempted.

  “Anything I want?” she tested, her eyes flashing with a new brilliance he figured was due to her increase in powers.

  “Anything you want. That we can construct or find.” Zent smiled invitingly, sensing her willingness to be appeased.

  “I suppose you four will line up, super beasts in rut.” She paused inhaling a huge breath. “And train me afterwards.”

  “We’re going to do that anyway.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cooking With Passion

  She appeared suspended suddenly, as if caught in a time vortex. Her fragrance ignited a mixture of fear and the spice of desire from her kwim. He’d smelled Zavier’s pleasures on her earlier. Mostly he’d smelled her passion and pleasures, an enticement that wove around him, bewitching him, just as her dancing always captivated him. “Yes,” she murmured.

  She whirled from him, and then bent over, gathering up a few things that had escaped during their hurried rush to put the room together. Her tresses swung in shining waves, a fiery tumble that enchanted him. He realized in that moment he would never have possessed her and been able to love her as he did now, without the changes the Harbinger had brought to them all. Gratitude surged through him, despite the appalling cost of the weather wars and despite everyone and everything he had lost.

  “Hungry?” he asked after a while, as she wandered about, simply gazing at the furnishings.

  She tossed her hair, and then faced him. “You’re too tired to fix me anything. And why do I doubt you’d let me go fix something by myself?”

  Smiling gradually, he crooned, “Come on over here, darlin’. Flame my lips with a kiss, breathe some of those sparkles into me and let’s see how fast I recover.”

  She huffed several breaths, then acquiesced. “Only because you helped bring my stuff and my costumes.” Sitting beside him, she ran her gaze over his features. “And because you’re so helpless looking.”

  “Helpless looking,” he mock protested. Seductively palming the back of her head, he brought her mouth close to his.

  “Exhausted,” she whispered, her eyelids half closing.

  “You’ll be helping us all, Wendy, if you kiss me.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I’ll be revived.” He pressed his lips against hers, a feather’s touch. “I’ll be able to cook up a big meal, feed us all.”

  “Is that so?” The warm puffs of her breath tantalized his mouth.

  “That’s so.” He seized her mouth, a sensual capturing of the shape, the plush extreme curve of her lips. He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, then with a sudden blaze of hunger from the pit of his stomach. Wrapping his arm around her, he rolled her beside him. Their mouths clung and began playing a passionate game of chase and tag.

  Zent let his mouth express his feelings, kissing her as he’d done the night before he’d left, when the world still seemed bright with possibilities. Their lips tangled again, in measured lingering kisses that seared his heart. Gradually the fierceness increased, until only their furious pants could be heard, and their mouths met in frenzied desperation, creating a new pleasure with each slanting touch, with each torrid press and slide of their lips.

  She flung her arms around him, dancing her body against his in time with the red-hot rhythm of their kisses. He swept strokes over her sinuous curves, matching her frantic undulations.

  No woman could dance against him like she did.

  Not surprised, he tasted her sparks as they leapt against his lips and inside his mouth, the fiery essence of her. “More,” he growled, the burning sensation exquisite.

  Molding her lips to his, she pressed her mouth to his sumptuously. His lips followed hers as she parted them in a long sensuous kiss. She streamed flame inside the hollow of his mouth, an extreme pleasure that had him silently groaning, and then crushing her close.

  “Enough?” she asked against his mouth.

  “Never enough.” Drawing back, he rasped. “That’s enough of your flame. Don’t wear yourself out.”

  “Did it work?”

  Zent embraced her face between his palms. “Something’s working.”

  “Besides your fishing rod.”

  “That too.” At her frown, he kissed her again, long and deep and with a scorching passion that had them both clinging onto each other tightly.

  “Zent, you remember.” She panted the words out once he pulled back, caressing her hair. “I thought you would forget that, that last night before you left.”

  “A man never forgets a make out session like that.” He smiled a bit. “Your flame tastes extraordinary, Wendy.”

  “Talk about fiery kisses.”

  “Come on, darlin’. I’d much rather stay here holding onto you, but the troops need to be fed. And so do you.” Swinging her upwards suddenly, he held her above him for a moment, just to look at her, just to see her face.

  “Show off.”

  Lowering her to the floor, he rolled, his feet hitting the floor after her. “Wanna go for a fast ride?” Picking her up, he tested out hi
s speed capability, zipping them across the room. “Take off,” he warned, before wrapping his arms firmly around her.

  At half speed, he blur-whipped them inside his room and into his dressing room. Setting her down, he pulled on lounge pants and a simple pullover.

  “Dizzy?” he asked.

  “Yes, but that was fun.” Hand to her forehead, she tilted a bit.

  Hauling her close with one arm, he kissed the tip of her cute nose. “Maybe we better walk the old-fashioned way.”

  “I wonder what would happen if I added my flame?”

  “For another day, Wendy.”

  She nodded against his chest, and then fell into step beside him as they headed toward the kitchen. “What are you going to make?”

  “I have the fixings for vegetable stew. A big pot.”

  “Something that will stick to your superhero ribs.”

  “That’s the dietary plan.” Smiles from heaven, he loved having her with him. “Want to help me season it?”

  “Like you need help. But, yeah.” He heard her breath hitch for an instant. “Why no windows in my room?”

  “Fortress protection, Wendy. Our windows and balconies are vulnerable attack points.”

  “I’m such a windows girl.” She flipped her hair. “I’ve always loved looking outside, watching nature. Although it’s not nearly as enjoyable now.”

  “It won’t be the same. However, we could rig up a screen so you have a 360-degree view. Is that why you spent so much time on the rooftop?”

  “How do you know how much time I spent?”

  “It was a guess, from the amount of your things we found up there. Besides, you did like the tree house.”

  “Yeah, you donkey hide, whenever any of you would let me up there.”

  “It was a male bastion of private doings.”

  “I can well imagine. Only I won’t.”

  Zent squeezed her closer for a moment, reveling in the voluptuous feel of her body. When they entered the kitchen, he pivoted, gripped her waist and hoisted her onto the counter top. “I like you up there,” he forestalled her protest. He gave her lopsided grin of appreciation before heading for their enormous cooler. “I’ve got the basic broth prepared.”