Something has changed in the past days. On some odd, cosmic level, I know the goddess will hear me. I know she’ll come. She has to—I would sacrifice everything to have her back. If I have any real magick at all, I’m pouring it into her song.
“Please,” I pray one more time, then crank the ignition key.
One more crowded venue. One more tight-packed floor. But this time, the energy is different. Even the boozed-up audience can tell something special is coming.
The anticipation swells, surging in the building like liquid, flooding through me. The lights fall. A wave of energy crashes into me when the crowd surges forward. Drums kick out a heady baseline behind me. I draw it all in, feel the music thrumming inside. Then our guitar line joins in, wailing in the dark.
Head down, I stand center stage with the spotlight pouring white heat down me. I drag my hands up the mic stand, feeling the light hit them before they disappear back into shadow. I throw every bit of the music I feel into the first set. The energy sinks into the crowd, stirs them, lifts them and comes back to me.
At the end of the last song, I hold the stage, and every eye in the building. The band behind me smiles. I lean into the mic, lips brushing it when I say, “Make sure to come back for our next set. We’ll be doing an original tune, a ballad dedicated to the goddess who stole my heart.”
Chapter Eleven
The Goddess
The calling filters through my soul. A pure ringing tone striking the chord only my consort can. Mace wakes me from a sleep I may never have wakened from elsewise.
I forfeited my Temple, gave up my sacred animal form. He is my life now. When the demon fever struck, it took so much of me, I could’ve given up the rest. But Mace calls—I must answer. The in-between spreads black and empty on all sides, engulfing and burying me in it. Mace’s call is so pure, it’s a line to follow out of the dark.
Letting go of my vengeful moments, I focus on my consort, my chosen prey. Images of Mace flood me, buoy my spirit, show him as clearly as if he were standing before me. He’s onstage, dark jeans riding low, black shirt with the sleeves pushed up and displaying his tattoos. He’s speaking of the song he wrote for the goddess that stole his heart.
He’s speaking of me.
Mace is mine and always will be. I feel it. He feels it. It comes through every syllable, every breath. I plunge my heart and soul into the moment, back into the dark, controlled chaotic atmosphere of Seduction. I feel the press of the crowd, the frenetic energy, the hunger for his voice, his words. I need to be there when he sings the song. I need to be with him.
In a deluge of lust and love, I melt through the black…
Senses almost overloaded, I materialize in the crowd, feet from the empty stage. Once more silence reigns. Once more the house lights are off. A single spotlight burns. Mace steps into the white beam and myriad flames flicker to life, held aloft above the throng.
The crowd, as a collective, trembles in anticipation.
So do I.
His hands come up the mic stand, a slow glide as they once did on my skin. My eyes roll closed, imagining those hands on me again. I purr in remembered pleasure, but no one listens. Everyone’s ears strain to hear Mace, to hear the magick in his voice. I want that too, but Mace’s voice is not enough.
I’m here for the man, for the soul and the source of the blues he sings.
Drums beat a soft, sultry rhythm—heartbeat and heartache given voice. The gathered hold their breath. Guitars cry quiet pain. The moment engulfs us all.
My lashes part as Mace’s head comes up. His lip quivers, a sigh escapes him. Sunglasses hide his tears from the crowd, but I feel them tracing in ghostly echoes down my cheek. Mace looks into the crowd, silent, exuding want, exuding need, chiming his chord in me. “I wrote this song for the goddess who stole my heart,” he says, voice hardly above a whisper. “It’s called ‘Burning Me.’”
Never expected to find you
Never even knew I was lonely
Never expected to be found at all
And now, I’m aching to see you
Aching to call your name
I’m aching to touch you
Goddess in flame…
The siren magick in his voice tugs on my body, but a goddess can resist. My heart cannot. As he pours his pain into the music, I heed the inner compass that led me to this man the first time. Moving through the empty spaces, I use the give and take of the undulating crowd to propel me forward. By the final refrain, I’m front row, center stage, his sweat and sweet pain falling on me.
Beauty in the burning
This broken heart to tame
Burning me
Loving me
Killing me
Goddess in flame…
Then, Mace looks down. Our eyes meet, the connection exploding into full, vibrant life inside. A shocked smile curls his lips. He catches his breath and motions to the band to cut the music. The crowd falls silent as the bouncer lifts me onto the stage.
“Burning me,” Mace whispers one last time into the mic.
The sunglasses no longer disguise the tears coursing down the curves of his cheeks. He reaches out and then pulls me tightly against him. His heart pounds, and mine beats with his. I pull the sunglasses from his face and dry his eyes.
“I’m here now.” His embrace tightens, he buries his face in my mane of hair. “Yours. Always.”
No words are necessary. His smile says it all.
Mace takes my hand, turns me to face forward and addresses the crowd. “This is my goddess! This is the one who stole my heart.”
The crowd roars in applause, a hollow and distant noise. I can’t hear anything over the beating of our heats, the rasp of our breaths. His hand is warm when he cups my chin in his palm and draws me closer. Tingles follow his thumb as he strokes my cheek. Mace’s breath is warm, wet on my lips. The world could fall into isfet, back into chaos, and I wouldn’t care when he kisses me. He snakes an arm around my waist, cinches me closer and it’s still not close enough.
“Goddess,” he sighs. “I love you.”
“And I you.”
Then a quizzical expression crinkles the corners of his eyes. His fingers stroke my cheeks, my nose, even brush my eyelashes. “Where’s…” he starts. “No, scratch that. How did you bring back this gorgeous face?”
“Magick, Mace. Magick.”
“You didn’t have to, y’know.” He kisses each eyelid lightly. “I want to be with you, no matter what…”
“I know that now.” His pulse dances over the skin of my palm when I put my hand on his chest. I kiss his lips again, for the pure pleasure of tasting him. “But I would sacrifice anything—everything—even my divinity, to be with you.”
“Mmmm,” he growls. “But I like my goddess.” His tongue strokes the “s” in a most pleasurable way.
“And I like my singer.” My siren…something he will have to learn of soon.
“How about we get off this stage and get outta here?”
He slides a hand down my arm, rough calluses trailing over my delicate human skin. I twine my fingers in his. He kisses me again, quickly, and then again, deep and hard like he’s trying to steal my breath. “I can’t get enough of you,” he says.
“We do have some time to make up for.”
Mace’s expression speaks volumes when he turns to Jazz.
“Go on!” the guitarist says, throwing up his hands in mock defeat. “Get out of here and get serious with her.”
“I fully intend to,” Mace says, and squeezes my hand. “Come on, gorgeous, my car is just outside.”
We hurry offstage, Mace shouting promises of, “Tomorrow night,” and “Yeah, the song will be a regular,” while he nearly drags me out the rear door. The cool night envelopes us outside the club, a fresh breeze blowing across the back parking lot full of boxy, ugly cars. As if we never parted, Mace spins me and presses my back to the wall. Pressing his body against mine, pinning me to the cement, he buries me in a heated kiss that le
aves me gasping.
And I love it.
I want more. I want a lifetime of it. As if lonely for my body, Mace canvasses my curves in an eager rush of hands, then clutches me to him. The bulge in his jeans rides the zipper of mine when he cups my ass and lifts me onto him. Suspended by his hands, I grind on the erection I know is hiding a few pieces of clothing away. Our lips press, mouths open and tongues tangle.
Mace carries me to his white car, where he pins me against back door and growls like any animal god as he kisses me. The thrum in his chest wakes the siren magick in him. My blood heats, heart races and a want so hot it almost burns consumes me.
The sky spins when he yanks open the front door and plunges us both into the shadowy confines of his vehicle.
Mace guides my body inside, pulls off my blouse and exposes my tank top beneath. Crouching between my thighs, one knee in and one foot outside the car, Mace emits an almost-pained noise. After exhaling a heavy breath, he pounces, nearly frantic, licking and kissing and biting every bit of exposed skin he can reach.
Then suddenly, he stops and takes both my hands to his chest.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I know I overreacted—”
“You did not. You are human.” I cup his face, fingers to either side of the scratch left on him by the succubus who nearly killed us both with her poison. “I was the one who went too far. And I am sorry I abandoned you.”
“But you didn’t.” His messy spiked hair whisks close to my face when he shakes his head. “You came back. Twice.”
“Twice?” But he was unconscious, frozen beneath Naami’s claws.
“I saw you that night. I thought I was dreaming until I woke up and smelled your sweet spice oil.”
“I couldn’t let her hurt you,” I say, then shift a finger to brush the scab on his cheek. “At least any more than she had.
“When Naami wouldn’t see reason, I dragged her into the in-between. We fought, her demon blood infecting the cuts she inflicted. If you hadn’t poured everything you had into your music, I might never have awakened. You saved me.”
His gaze falls to the space between us. “I’m just a singer.”
“You’re so much more than that.” I force him to look at me. “You have magick of your own. The succubus was drawn to you because of it.”
“Magick?” Doubt shoves his voice a notch higher.
“Yes. You have siren blood in you. It’s diluted enough to keep the negative attributes at bay, but you literally have a magick voice.”
“And you’re a goddess.”
“Not like I used to be.” The pain of what I’d sacrificed rings in my voice. “The magick I used is as permanent as we are, Mace. I gave up that part of my divinity until our bond is broken. I cannot return to my Temple. I cannot return to my time. Not until this life with you has ended.”
“You gave all that up to be with me?”
“Yes.” A tear beads and rolls.
“But, what if things hadn’t worked out? To make a sacrifice like that…” Mace’s voice fades, the extent of my love for him now evident and undeniable.
“A fierce, divine heart beats in my chest, but I am a woman. I know what I need. I know what I want. And that…” Another tear falls. “Is you.”
“I would have loved you anyway.”
“So it would seem.” I smile then, and wink playfully.
“Let’s get you home,” he says, then nips my neck and kisses it. “And we can christen my bedroom.”
What an odd word choice. “Christen?”
His door opens, letting in a gust of air. I shiver a little, taking a chill without him so close.
“Yeah,” he says, leaning across my lap to pull the door closed before he shuts his own. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with your modern slang.”
His grin shifts from rock singer to rogue. “Oh, goddess, I have a lot to teach you…”
Is it the tone in his voice? The devilish glint in his eyes? Perhaps the two combined. Regardless, I realize he’s using an innuendo. I return his smile with one of my own. “And I look forward to the lessons.”
I trace a fingertip down his belly, grazing his beltline and then fondling the ridge of his strained zipper. He wraps his fingers around my hand, shakes his head and turns the key in the ignition. The engine purrs. A pleasant growl rumbles under the hood. I echo the rumble with a deep purr as the vehicle rolls onto the street.
“I like that.”
“Yeah? I can teach you to drive it someday.”
“Maybe someday…” I turn to him then, not satisfied with waiting for what I want now. “And maybe we should christen the car…”
“What? Here? While I’m driving?” Mace’s voice rings with incredulity. He looks at me, eyes wide, and then drops a gaze at the lack of space between him and the steering wheel. His cock responds when I stroke his erection harder. Breath hisses through Mace’s teeth. Then, reaching behind the seat, he pulls a lever and pushes the seat back. He flicks a gaze at me, then at the black glass plate in the roof. A wicked light flames in his eyes. “Damn it, woman. You are gonna kill me.”
“So…” I slide my hand over his denim-clad bulge. “Is that a ‘no’ then?”
“Ummm… no.”
“Then…” I ease my hand down to fondle his sac. “Is that a ‘yes?’”
“Oh, hell yeah.”
Even though he expects it, he still gasps when I pull down his zipper and lick the head of his cock. The engine revs, and he swears at himself while I wriggle his jeans down far enough to expose him. Then Mace reaches overhead and pushes a button to open the roof.
The smoky glass slides back, making room for me to straddle him. Air whispers in my hair, tickling down my neck and questing through my tank top. He cranes his neck to the side, struggling to see the road. To compensate, I arch my body in order for him to see around me.
“Ready?” I ask.
Mace doesn’t need to answer.
His ready interest is evident, standing at attention in the curls of hair surrounding his shaft. The head of his cock brushes the lips of my pussy, a teasing, tingling kiss I’m not ready to move past yet. He feels so good slipping on the edge of plunging in me. Tipping my hips, I guide the smooth round tip along my crease, reveling in the heat, reveling in the sensations flooding up through me. His foot presses the accelerator and the engine roars. Wind whips my hair past my face in a sheet of shining gold.
“Oohh, God,” he groans.
“Goddess,” I remind him.
Another tip of my hips and erotic slide of his cock. Mace shudders, and his foot presses down harder. The engine responds, hurling the car down the road. One hand leaves the steering wheel in favor of clutching my waist. He forces my pussy down, gliding on his cock until he’s fully inside me. His dick fills me, setting nerves alive with passion. It’s my turn to catch my breath. The engine’s roar sends a second tremble though us and strokes points inside he didn’t reach before.
Pleasure rises in me, thick hot waves to battle with the chill of the wind biting my skin and scalp. I pull up along his shaft, slow, torturous for us both, then plunge down again.
Mace grows harder with each thrust. I claw the headrest of his seat with each rise and fall. He paws at my body with one hand, the other white-knuckle gripped around the steering wheel.
Beneath me, Mace begins to rock his hips against my downward slide, pumping his cock deeper into me, rubbing every ridge and ripple and vein inside. Panting, I try to catch a breath from the whipping wind. He’s driving the car like he’s going to war, and driving me to an orgasm in the same manner.
Then Mace doubles my pleasure. He works his free hand across my hip and between my folds to tease my clit. I groan aloud, the sound disguised by the squealing of his tires as he turns the car into a long, low structure. I rock down and forward; he thrusts in a counter rhythm up and in.
His eyes roll, he blinks and focuses. Then Mace parks the car. Free to
focus on me, he lets out a throaty moan and pumps into my pussy.
I lose sight of everything when my eyes close in ecstasy. I moan and writhe and push against him when the warmth of his mouth envelopes my nipple and his fingers find the other beneath my shirt.
A few more thrusts, and he’ll drag us both over the edge of orgasm. He comes then, shuddering with adrenaline. The pulsing of his cock pushes me under, and I drown in the bliss of climax too.
Mace leans his head on my chest for a moment, the heat of his flushed cheeks filtering through my shirt. His chest heaves with deep breaths. I tense, and gather my legs to better pull off him. Mace reacts instantly, clutching my hips with both hands to hold me in place.
“Don’t move.” He sucks in big gulps of air. “I am so fucking dizzy…”
I laugh and bring a hand up to lick across my palm. I press it to his head, focusing my magick on him. A warm, red glow blooms around my hand, pulsing with my heartbeat. The misty light seeps into Mace’s skin and disappears.
His chest expands, almost unsettling me when he draws a breath. Then he leans his head back and gazes at me, his cocoa irises narrowed in shock. “Wh-what did you do? How did you…”
“Silly boy,” I coo. “I am the goddess of sexual heat. I can use that however I wish, even to heal a lover.”
“Really? But, I thought…”
By the look in his eyes, and the subtle shift in the aura he puts off, I know what he thought.
“No, Mace, I didn’t give up all of my powers. I cannot return to my Temple, nor to Egypt. I have sacrificed my divine lion form, but I did not give up all of my powers.”
“Good! I was so worried that you’d given up everything for me.”
“No worries. Not anymore.”
His arms circle me in a hug, which he then uses to lift my body from his pelvis. “We really should get dressed and go in,” he says. “I don’t want anyone to see us.”
I follow his pointed stare in the direction of the apartment building behind us, and the few illuminated windows. I grin, feline, and would show my long canine incisors, if I still had them. Let them look. I do not care who sees us. Mace is mine, and we both know it. So can they.
In Pursuit of Prey: Of Gods and Consorts, Book 1 Page 7