by Katya Moore
“I kinda hope a man does.” My heart flipped as I said it. I didn’t do vulnerable, not easily.
His hands ran slowly up my back, pressing me close to him, skin to skin. “Careful what you wish for. I’m known for stealing pretty things.”
“You can’t steal it if I give it to you.”
“Damn. Thwarted.” He laughed again, this time a low, throaty laugh that sent a shiver straight through my core. His lips traced lightly against my cheek. “Speaking of thieving, now that you’re part of the crew, you need a name.”
“I have a name.” I nipped at his lips. “My momma gave me one.”
“No. Seriously.” He pulled his head back from me, stealing his lips away from mine. I pouted, but stopped when I saw he was actually serious. “It’s not safe for you to go around telling people in our circles what your real name is. It leaves you vulnerable, and the only one I want you vulnerable to is me. Maybe Feral.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Now, let’s see… you’re a linguist. A cunning…”
“Oh dear god, do NOT finish that thought or I will have to walk out of here.” I glared my deadliest glare. “Every person in my field gets that joke so many times by the end of freshman year that we terminate offenders on sight. Friends, creepy uncles, dudes trying to pick us up in bars…everyone’s a comedian with the same damned joke. Cunnilingus. Lolz.”
Luxe raised his hands in surrender and shrank back from my ranting. “Sorry, sorry, terribly sorry.” He dared a tiny grin. “Can I make it up to you by demonstrating?”
I felt my ears pink up at that. “That… would certainly make up for it, yes.”
He caught my shoulders and rolled us, pressing me back into the pillows as he mounted me. His knee parted mine. His lips parted mine. We kissed, a long, slow, lazy kiss that warmed my entire body.
“Mmm right. No oral jokes. How about…Wordsmith?” He caught my lower lip between his teeth, then released it.
“Meh. Not feeling that one.” I tipped my head back and let him nibble at my throat. “Mmmm…maybe Tessaurus?”
“Hmm?” He glanced up at me. “Oh. Thesaurus. Ugh. Not befitting your beauty, lovely Lexi.”
“Lexi.” I started to sit up as the inspiration struck me. Luxe pulled back, but I caught him around the neck and grinned wickedly at him. “I’ve got it. LexiCon.”
“Lexi…Con.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “It’s terrible. It’s the worst sort of pun.” He kissed me deeply. “It’s perfect.”
“Baby’s first street name,” I sighed.
“Let’s celebrate,” he said with a gleam in his eye.
His lips returned to my throat, and I settled back into the pillows to let him work. His lips moved down between my breasts, pausing only to nip at each nipple hard enough to make me jump in aroused surprise. Slowly, teasingly, he kissed down the plane of my stomach. His tongue dipped into my navel, prompting a giggle.
He gave a contented sigh as he reached his destination. He nuzzled at my landing strip with the tip of his nose. My body tensed. My fingers tangled in his hair, stroking, caressing. I teased at his ear with a single index finger.
Finally, his tongue dipped in between my folds, and my head snapped back into the pillows. “Oh my dear god,” I sighed as he struck home in one long, luxurious lick, ending with a flick to my clit. I felt him smile against me. Then he stole my breath away. He devoured my pussy like a starving man, using tongue, lips, even the tips of his teeth to lick, nibble, and torment my most tender flesh, sending me writhing against his silk sheets. Moans turned to gasps turned to cries of ecstasy as he sucked my clit between his lips and flicked at it with his tongue. Stars filled my vision. I gripped the sheets in my hands so that I wouldn’t rip out his hair as my body was wracked with a world-shaking orgasm.
He pressed his lips against my labia in a tender kiss. “Does my goddess approve?”
“Uh huh,” I panted.
“Would my goddess like more?” he asked with a positively fiendish grin.
“I…I think…that would kill me…” I said. Then I grinned back. “Your cock, on the other hand…”
“At the ready, ma’am.”
He saluted with a flourish, then hauled himself up the bed in one fluid motion. I caught him in my arms, pulling him close, needing his chest against mine, his skin on my skin, his lips on my lips. I could feel him, hard and eager, his shaft teasing my inner lips with its pressure. He rolled his hips, and the shaft ran over my clit, sending a jolt through my body.
“Hmm,” he pondered, mischief lighting his eyes. He began to gyrate his hips, slowly, taunting me with his hard cock rubbing against me but not entering me. My head fell back against the pillows, eyes closed, moaning in delicious torment.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, clutching him close and stopping his movements. “Cock. Now,” I demanded.
“Your wish is my command.” He nipped my lips, then eased back and obeyed. We both let out long, rapturous moans as he entered me, sliding slowly into my depths. My whole body shuddered with desire. His breath caught at the sensation. “Oh, Alex, the things you do to me,” he whispered.
I couldn’t answer. All I could do was cling to him, sink my teeth into his shoulder, and meet his thrust with my hips, taking in every inch of him. His groan of pleasure burned inside me, and the slow thrusts gave way to hard, passionate, animal lust. I met him thrust for thrust, needing every tiny bit of him. I’d come so close to losing him that I wanted to take every bit of him into me and keep him hidden away within me so that he’d be safe forever. When the orgasm took me, I clutched him tight, screaming his name. His real name.
He cried my name as he came, then kissed me with every ounce of passion he had. We crushed our lips to each other with bruising intensity, mad with love and lust.
“Alexandria Martin. LexiCon. I l….” He stopped himself. “You are amazing. Fantastic. The most magical creature I’ve ever been with. And I want to say things. Crazy things. Powerful things. Things I can never take back.” He brushed my lips with his. “But I’ll wait. Because I don’t want to scare you away by saying them too soon.”
A lump formed in my throat. I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “Thank you.” I swallowed hard. “Because it would. Even though I want to say them too, so badly it hurts.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “I’ll just think it at you. Really hard.”
I laughed and pressed back. “I feel it.”
“Good.”
The purple grasses swirled ominously around my ankles as I strode toward the clearing. There was a purpose to my step, a purpose I didn’t immediately understand. I just knew I had to be there. I had to stop it. Something was wrong, and only I held the key.
The key…
It was far away. I could see the glint of the mirror, the fire, the shadow of the idol. But something was different. The tentacles of the mirror’s frame writhed slowly, casting long shadows in the firelight. The dark gem glowed with an eerie purple light.
It’s alive.
Glory.
I ran. I snatched up the long shimmering skirts to my hips and I ran. My breath burned in my chest and I ran. It shouldn’t have been as far as it was, but that was the evil of dreams. Time, space, distance were all malleable, and all working against you as hard as they could.
At last, I closed on the circle. It was empty, save for the artifacts. I looked around me, my heart pounding in my chest. No sign of Glory anywhere.
But Glory was the least of my worries.
The surface of the mirror did not reflect the light of the fire. It was alive with its own images, its own visions.
I had to know. I stepped into the clearing.
My chest burned. I felt a weight around my neck. The Soul’s Tears hung between my breasts, as solid and heavy and real as it had been days ago. I wrapped my fist around it, clutching it for dear life. Its power throbbed in my chest, matching the racing beat of my heart.
Slowly, I walked toward the idol. Dark wings cast
long shadows over my skirt. There was something wrong with the head. It was too rounded, with no neck. I passed it on the right-hand side, not daring to look back at it.
There was something wrong with the fire, too. It flickered and smoldered, but I felt no heat from it, smelled no smoke. I reached out a hand toward it and brushed the tip of the flame with my fingers. I snatched my hand back immediately, cradling it to my chest as pain shot through me. I looked at the blackened tips of my fingers and saw reddened, blistered flesh.
Playing with fire gets you burned, Alex.
I stood in front of the mirror, my heart in my throat. It didn’t reflect me, but there was motion. So much motion.
I steeled myself and looked inside.
But I couldn’t brace myself for the horrors within.
It was a fashion runway, of that there was no doubt. Chairs lined either side, scattered and overturned. Banners hung in tatters. I could see an expensive-looking high-heeled shoe lying in the center of the runway, stained with red.
Around it, chaos. People in designer clothes, men, women, even a few children, ran screaming for their lives, shoving aside the chairs and each other in the haste to escape. They were pursued by twisted abominations, bestial things that weren’t human or animal or anything I’d ever seen before. A jagged wing here, an extra limb there, and always, always broken-glass teeth and writhing tentacles. I saw one snatch up a stick-thin woman in a tailored dress. She screamed as those shattered teeth tore into her flesh, rending, tearing. I wanted to look away, but something held my eyes fast to the mirror’s reflection.
Something in the back of the room.
Something familiar.
Luxe. One of the creatures had Luxe. A tentacle wrapped around his throat.
Shift, I begged. Shift and save yourself.
But he didn’t.
And he couldn’t.
And all I could do was watch as the blood sprayed.
And I woke up screaming.
I was still trembling as I sat at the kitchen table. Luxe set a bowl of cereal in front of me. I didn’t even look at it.
“It was just a dream,” he said.
I stared at the table.
He said something else. I didn’t hear it. I didn’t feel him stroking my hair or pulling me close. I couldn’t feel anything. Just overwhelming dread.
And the burns on my fingertips.
“We’re coming!” Luxe’s call finally broke through the haze. He jostled me gently. “Alex, we have to go to the living room. We’ve got a call.”
I shuffled into the living room. The television was on, and the rest of the crew was gathered, watching.
“Mother Glory’s mysterious disappearance has left more questions than answers. The gown she reported stolen was found in her dressing room. The fire that broke out in her green room, leaving the charred remains of four people. Security claims that someone hacked into the system, leaving their camera footage absolutely useless. It’s a strange and worrying situation, Art.” The blonde female newscaster turned to her colleague.
“That’s right, Kathy. Authorities are tight-lipped about their theories, but there seem to be a lot of theories running around the Internet right now. Some are saying that Mother Glory was taking her cult-leader status too seriously and finally went around the bend. Others claim that one of her many stalkers engineered a kidnapping. Others claim that it was a murder-suicide, and that she is one of the bodies that forensic teams are poring over this very second. One thing is for certain, though. Her absence from the concert seems to have had an earthshaking effect on her… enthusiastic fanbase.”
“That’s putting it mildly, Art.” The screen cut to footage of fans lining up to have tattoos removed and people burning piles of Glory merchandise in the streets.
The camera focused on a girl with Soul’s Tear gem tattoos under her eyes. “I mean, her music was great and all, but it was how she cared about her fans that really sucked us all in. And then she just *BLEEP*ing abandons us? Without a single word? *BLEEP* her.”
“I guess the magic of the Soul’s Tears is fading off,” Roc said, turning off the television. “Pretty soon, she’ll just be another dead celebrity.”
I rubbed my chest absently. “Yeah.” There was a pulse beneath my skin that wasn’t my own. I wondered what it would do to me. If it would drive me mad as it had Glory. I saw Luxe watching me and dropped my hand to my lap.
If he knew. If they all knew…
Kit tapped at his laptop. “Client’s on the line. Want me to patch him in?”
Roc nodded. The room fell silent.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Selexia’s voice was cheerfully placid. “I have seen the news. The threat has been neutralized. Did you retrieve the necklace?”
Roc looked more uneasy than I’d ever seen him. “No. When she died, the necklace turned to dust with her.”
A very long pause. We all looked at each other. Cory chewed at his nails. Feral clenched his fists. Luxe looked vaguely nauseous. Kit locked his fingers together over his knee and squeezed. Roc just stared at the laptop, his face blank.
“A shame, but perhaps unavoidable. She was bonded to the necklace in a way we cannot fathom.” Another pause, this one shorter. “And the girl?”
Roc looked at me, then back at the laptop. “The situation is handled.”
“Good. Does she have a name?”
Roc looked at the laptop, eyes widening slightly in shock.
“Yeah,” I answered. “LexiCon. Nice to meet you.”
Cory stifled a snort. Kit looked at me with wide eyes. Feral smirked approval.
“Welcome to the team, LexiCon. I am sure you will be a great asset.” Selexia’s voice was as welcoming as a robot’s could be. “For your first assignment, you will be traveling to Paris. I am sure your skills will be put to great use.”
“Paris?” Roc asked.
“According to my sources, there is an artifact of great power in Ia Picmont’s studios in Paris. What she intends to use it for, I cannot say. But there is hearsay that she intends to put it to use during Paris Fashion Week.”
“That’s in less than a month,” Luxe said. “That doesn’t give us a lot of set-up time. We’ll need to get an inside man situated in her studio, we’ll need a base of operations.”
“Ye of little faith,” Selexia chided. “Arrangements have been made. Pack your bags. You leave tomorrow.”
The connection went dead. So did my face.
“Lex…you okay?” Luxe nudged me. “Lex, honey.”
“My dream…” I said. “The runway…”
Luxe gave me a squeeze. “We’ll be fine.”
“What dream?” Roc asked. I could see the concern in his face. “Lexi, talk to me.”
I heard a buzzing sound. Luxe jumped slightly, then pulled a cellphone out of his pocket like it was covered in spiders.
“This was Glory’s line. This is Andres’ phone.” Luxe looked at the number. “Well I’ll be damned…”
He pressed the button and signaled for silence.
“As I live and breathe! Ia Picmont, how are you, my darling?” A pause. “Oh…my…god, it’s horrible, isn’t it? I don’t know who to believe? I mean, she’d been acting a little cray-cray the past week or so, but I thought it was just the concert. Do you think she could have…?” Another pause. “Of course that means I’m free. Fresh out of a job, don’tcha know.” A gasp. “Oh, I couldn’t! I could! Of course I could! For you, anything. I mean, Fashion Week! It’s the dream, isn’t it? I can’t wait to see what you’ve done! Mwah mwah kisses. I’ll be there on the next flight!”
Luxe hung up the phone and hugged it. “Guess who’s managing the Picmont runway for Faaashion Week!” he gushed in Andres’ flamboyant tones.
“We have our inside man,” Roc said with a smile. “Everyone get packed. We leave in the morning.”
TUNE IN NEXT TIME for our daring crew’s trip to Paris in The Runway Job! A mad fashion designer is determined to take Fashion Week by storm,
with models who will drive you mad. Literally. Also, there will be sex, shenanigans, and more heist-filled goodness.
Preorder coming soon, novel coming in October (at the latest…I’m hoping for considerably sooner!)
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Last but not least, there’s my website, katyamoore.com.
If you enjoyed The Siren Job, you might also enjoy my completed dragon shifter series. Action, adventure, and steamy romance awaits!
The Arysia Bellmont Series
Shadow on the Wing
Shadow on the Water
Shadow and Flame
Shadow in the Ether
Shadow on the Earth
About the Author
Katya spent her childhood moving from place to place, seeing the country one new school at a time. She found her closest friends in books, favoring fantasy, mythology, and science fiction from an early age. She discovered romance novels on trips to Maine with her father’s family, and found a whole new kind of fantasy world to write about.
Influenced strongly by Lovecraftian horror, Charles de Lint, Robin McKinley, and Anais Nïn, Katya started out writing paranormal romance and steamy fanfiction. Someone told her about reverse harem, and her ears perked up. After devouring a whole bunch of Tate James and Eva Chase (amongst others,) Katya found her new home.
Katya can be found typing away on her iPad at coffee shops, sipping craft cocktails in hipster bars that Kitty would abhor, and fighting off her inherent couch potato nature at the local parkour gym. She has an awesomely supportive and very sexy husband (just the one) and a lovable hellion of a six-year-old.