Aeromancist, The Beginning (SECOND EDITION): Prequel (7 Forbidden Arts Book 2)

by Charmaine Pauls

  Before Lann could reply, the American ambassador walked up. He shook hands with Lann and introduced himself to Amelia and Kat.

  His eyes lingered on Kat. “May I have the honor of a dance, Miss White?”

  Kat didn’t miss the look Lann gave her, or the unspoken warning in his eyes. She smiled politely. “Thank you, but I promised all my dances to my partner.”

  The Ambassador patted Lann on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky man,” he said before walking off.

  Ignoring Amelia, Lann took Kat’s glass and left it on the bar. “Since I promised you a dance…”

  He pulled her away from Amelia’s stare onto the dance floor for the waltz that had started. Lann was light on his feet, guiding her effortlessly around the room.

  “What was that all about?” Kat asked, glancing up at him.

  “I’d say the ambassador is smitten with you.” His eyes darkened. “And I’m jealous as hell.”

  She gave him a stern look. “I’m talking about Amelia’s comment.”

  “The journalist?”

  Kat narrowed her eyes. “If she’s a reporter, then yes.”

  “She’s got her knife in for me. She wrote a nasty article, and tried to do some character damage.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  He brushed his hand over her back. “It’s her job.”

  “Why did she say that I resembled your mother?”

  Lann looked down at her, holding her gaze for a second. “Because it’s true.”

  The blood in her veins turned cold. Had Lann sought her out because she looked like his mother? Was this some warped childhood psychology bullshit? She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to know.

  As if reading her mind, he lowered his head and whispered in her ear, “I didn’t ask to have sex with you because you look like my dead mother. That would make me a sick fuck.”

  Kat shivered when he traced her spine with a finger. “What was the comment about the weather forecast?”

  “It’s because of a nickname I don’t particularly care for.”

  “What nickname?”

  He seemed indecisive as whether to answer her, but after a moment he said, “Weatherman.”

  She couldn’t keep the amusement from her voice. “Weatherman?”

  “I always get the forecast right. It’s earned me the unfortunate title.”

  When she kept staring at him, he shrugged. “What? I’m a pilot. It’s my job to know the weather.”

  “Besides being a pilot, what else are you?” She pressed her body against his, a little too tightly, and smiled when he groaned.

  “A businessman. Stop grinding against me or I’ll drag you outside and then your beautiful gown will be ruined.”

  She chuckled and brushed her thigh against his.

  “Katherine, don’t dare me. I’ve never walked away from one.”

  Sliding her leg between his, she felt his hardness against her thigh. “What kind of business? Don’t even think about brushing me off again because I’m not giving up this time.”

  He cursed. “Property investment. Communications.”

  “What kind of communications?”

  “Web-based.” He suddenly stopped, causing her to almost lose her balance. He put his arms around her to steady her. “Enough,” he gritted out. “Time to go home.”

  “We just got here.”

  He fixed her with a stare that told her arguing wasn’t an option. His heated gaze traveled over her body, devouring her with an invisible caress. “Let’s go.”

  “Only if we’re going to the den.”

  His eyes widened slightly. “Why?”

  “Because I want to have you everywhere. I want you to remember me in every part of your home.”

  “God, Katherine,” he growled, his fingers pressed against her back, “isn’t it enough that you’re in my head every minute of every day?”

  No. Not nearly. She tugged at his hand. “Take me home.”

  Inside the monastery, he stripped her in the square. Her dress was lying on the floor before they made it to the hallway. Lann hadn’t joked about ruining her gown. Oh well, she wasn’t planning on wearing it for any other man. It was a one-off kind of dress, for a one-off kind of man. Kat gasped as he backed her up against a door, his palms on her naked breasts and his teeth raking down her neck. She slipped her hands under his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders and letting it fall on the terracotta tiles. When her fingers brushed over his injured skin, he winced.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “We should take it easy.”

  He moved his thigh between her legs. “I’m taking it as damn easy as I can.”

  He dipped his thumbs into the elastic of her thong. “Prekrasnaya. So pretty.”

  As he pushed the scrap of material over her hips, he dragged his lips down her body, kissing the peaks of her breasts, and her stomach. She moaned as the light trail of kisses ended on her wet folds.

  “Lift your feet,” he said.

  She obeyed so he could free her underwear. He stepped back. His eyes darkened as his gaze travelled over her. Slowly, he undid his bowtie and let it drop to the floor. Unbuttoning his shirt, he advanced again. He didn’t remove the shirt, but just left it hanging off his well-defined abs. She ached to feel him inside her. She needed him like she would never need anyone again.

  The cool breeze hardened her nipples. The fact that they were exposed, outside, in clear view of any of the staff who might happen to wake up both mortified and excited her. It was a strange mixture of emotions, teaching her something new about herself. There was so much she was learning under Lann’s skillful hands.

  Stopping against her, Lann wrapped his broad hand around her neck. His fingers easily encircled the slender column. He didn’t apply pressure. Heat from his palm seeped into her skin. The caress was dominant, possessive, and protective. He made her feel all these things as he dragged his palm down between her breasts, flattened it over her stomach, and finally cupped her sex. He inhaled sharply. Studying her face, he slipped a finger inside. She cried out at the pleasure, not thinking about where they were any longer. As he caressed her with his hand, slow and easy, her ecstasy reflected in his eyes, the gold color deepening as her moans increased.

  He moved his other behind her, fiddling with the lock. When the door gave way, he steadied her with a palm on her lower back. He moved her forward with his body, walking her inside before he kicked the door shut. They were in the library.

  There was no gradual build-up in his kiss as his mouth claimed hers. It was wild and hot, his tongue seeking immediate entrance. He was still backing her up, all the way to the end of the dark hall. The shadows were long in the faint hallway light that fell through the windows. She could smell the familiar scent of ink, paper, leather, and him. She gripped his hair, holding his head to her as he kissed reason and will from her consciousness. They stopped at the far end, next to the staircase.

  He pulled away from her then, bracing his hands against the wall on either side of her face. “If I take you upstairs, I’m going to push you, Katherine. Do you trust me?”

  She stared at him in the faint light, noting the way his eyes seemed to glow, the moistness of his lips, and the lust etched in the stark lines of his face.

  “I’d risk my life with you in a plane anytime,” she whispered, “so why wouldn’t I in your bed?”

  He remained serious. “I won’t harm you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She took a deep breath. “I know.”

  The curve of his lips was more a grimace than a smile. He had a hard time controlling himself. Why drag this out? They both wanted it.

  Holding his eyes, she placed her hand in his. He acknowledged the non-verbal token of trust by giving her hand a soft squeeze. He brushed his knuckles over her cheek before picking her up and carrying her upstairs to the den.

  He lowered her to her feet in the center of the room. “Turn around.”

  She turned, facing the bed. She listened to th
e noises he made, trying to figure out what he was doing. It sounded as if a drawer opened. A few seconds later, his body pressed against her back. Something soft brushed over her shoulder. She looked down. A red silk scarf. He folded it double and tied it over her eyes. It was tight, but not uncomfortable. She couldn’t lift her eyelids, and the sudden loss of sight frightened her, but he swept his hands over her shoulders in comforting strokes until her body relaxed once more.

  For a long time, he stroked her back and arms. When her body went slack, completely relaxed, he pulled back her arms, keeping her wrists together in one hand. Something cold encircled her wrists. A click sounded. Handcuffs. Her breathing increased. The feeling of helplessness was liberating. There was nothing she could do but submit to him and accept the pleasure he wanted to give her. His lips were warm on her spine as he kissed his way down to her lower back. While he pressed his thumbs into the muscles just above her ass, stimulating nerve endings that had her go on tiptoes, he drew small circular patterns over her skin with his tongue. Her body succumbed to the erotic massage like chocolate melting in the sun.

  He straightened and rubbed his cheek against hers. “I won’t do anything you won’t like.”

  He gave the cuffs a gentle pull, and tested the tightness, ensuring he could slip a finger between the cuff and her wrist. Then he was gone. A second later, he inserted something into her ears. Earphones. Classical music. Beethoven, Symphony 5. She couldn’t see or hear him any longer. It seemed to heighten her other senses.

  He moved her forward until her thighs collided with something. The bed. His hands cupped her waist. She knew what he wanted. She got onto the bed, kneeling. The mattress dipped next to her. A warm hand pressed on the back of her neck, pushing her down. Something soft under her stomach lifted her body. Pillows. She turned her head sideways to be able to breathe. For a while, there was nothing, no Lann, only the music and the darkness. Was he undressing?

  When the mattress dipped again, she trembled with anticipation. Liquid slid between her globes. The coldness made her jerk. Immediately Lann’s finger was there, warm, reassuring, working the liquid down and… she gasped, tensing a little when he circled her dark entrance. Then he flattened a palm on her ass cheek, stroking until she relaxed again. Something cold and hard replaced his finger. Instinctively, she clenched her muscles, but he caressed her lower back with calming movements until her body softened once more. He squeezed her shoulder in silent warning, and then applied gentle pressure until the object slipped through the tight ring of muscles. The sensation wasn’t painful or uncomfortable. It felt strangely full.

  Keeping one hand on her lower back, he parted her folds and tested her wetness. He massaged gently, up and down, the pad of his finger teasing her clit. The pleasure built slowly. He followed the rhythm of the music, working her up at the crescendos and bringing her back down at the decrescendos of the symphony.

  When the piano broke over the fourth movement, he slipped his fingers inside. With the toy, she felt stretched, and she would’ve come for him if he hadn’t stopped moving. Desperate for release, she lifted her hips in search of more friction, but he softly pressed her back down.

  Obediently, she stayed put. He was going to do this at his pace. He was in control. The mattress shifted. He gripped her wrists behind her back, bending her arms at the elbows. His cock nudged her entrance. With one, powerful thrust, he took her to the hilt. She cried out from the pleasure. His cock was thick, and with the toy inside her, the feeling was overwhelming. She couldn’t hear her own moans, but she knew they were loud as he pumped into her to the beat of the music until she was begging for release.

  The music phased out. No. She knew what was going to follow. He stilled. Her heart was beating so furiously the throbbing echoed painfully between her ribs. Gripping her shoulders, he massaged them gently. Preparing her. For what? The contact disappeared. Her thoughts were coming in fragmented shards. All that remained was sensation. She existed in a dark world of feeling only.

  Something soft and cool wrapped around her neck. The music picked up again. Crescendo. An unspoken whisper, come to me. Something on her clit. A vibrator? Yes. The feeling drove her insane. Not enough. Too much. His cock in her pussy, driving her up, up, wild. Her screams. A tightening around her neck. No air. No breath. Oh God.

  He fucked her mindless. White spots exploded behind her eyes. The pressure on the plug in her ass and the toy on her clit increased as the vibrator sped up, all while his cock was still buried deep inside. A tightening. She was going to pass out. It was a thousand times more intense than the time at the lake, and this time she was constrained. An urge to fight took over, but she couldn’t move under his body. Panic hit. Just as she started losing consciousness, blackness pulling at the edges of her obscured vision, the pressure around her neck released. Air again.

  Gulps of breath that burned her throat. An intense awareness of her senses. The vision behind her blindfold went white. An orgasm that ripped her apart. It wouldn’t end. Make it stop. Did she say that out loud? Lann jamming into her, his cock growing even thicker. His hot semen running down her legs. The spasms wouldn’t stop. Ripples over her body, contracting her pelvis, her nipples. Stretching her body. Driving her over an edge she couldn’t come back from.

  Please, make it stop. Could she even speak? Soundless panting. Kisses on her face, shoulders, and back. The toy in her ass disappeared. Her arms were free. Lifted. Fingers rubbed over her wrists. Her body was flipped over. The music softened, and then slowed. Big hands massaged her body. Slow strokes over her tired muscles. A warm tongue pressed against her folds, not moving, but simply soothing. Something slipping from her throat. Arms folded around her.

  Silence. He pulled the earphones free, and then the blindfold. Light.

  He pressed the pads of his fingers gently on her eyes. “Don’t open them just yet.” His voice, deep and familiar, washed over her. “Give them time to adjust.”

  When his touch disappeared, she opened her eyes slowly, and stared into Lann’s face. He was cradling her in his arms. His expression was tender, but his eyes looked wild with his pupils dilated. Cupping her face, he kissed her tenderly.

  Slowly, her equilibrium stabilized. “What have you done to me?” she asked in a croaky voice.

  He kissed her throat. “Which part?”

  She pushed away from him, touching her neck. “Did you strangle me?”

  He dropped his hands to his sides. “Yes.”

  She stared at him. “Why?”

  “Do you need to ask? That day at the lake, you told me you liked it.”

  “What are you?” She struggled away from him and stood on shaky legs.

  He watched her emotionlessly. “I’d never risk your life. I promised you. It was only for a few seconds.”

  She trembled from head to toe, and it was from more than the after-effect of her orgasm. “What if you miscalculate? What if you forget yourself in your own pleasure?”

  “Katherine,” his voice was stern, sounding strangely reasonable, “I promised you I’d take all the control so that you could lose yours, and that’s what I did.”

  She turned away.

  “Where are you going?” he asked darkly.

  “I need time,” she said, a quiver in her voice, “to process this.”

  “What you need is to ask yourself if you enjoyed it. Was that the best orgasm of your life? Did you explode inside, feel only pleasure, and nothing else?”

  She faced him again slowly. “I don’t like the idea of being strangled.”

  “It was far from strangling.” When she instinctively touched her neck again, he said, “I didn’t leave marks. I used a silk scarf.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  He reached for her. “Katherine, I—”

  She took a step back. “I want to be alone.”

  She needed to understand, to come to grips with herself, to get over the shock of how much she had enjoyed what he had done to her. It couldn’t b
e normal.

  “Krasavitsa, I would never harm you.”

  “Have you…” She needed to ask a question that had nothing to do with the situation or with how they were having sex. It was one she’d skirted for way too long. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  His eyes turned cold and his voice hard. “Not while fucking them.”

  The intake of her breath was loud. She’d suspected. No, deep down, she’d known. Why, then, did it come as such a shock? She needed to get away. To think. Her gaze fell on his clothes that were draped over a chair. Grabbing his shirt, she pulled it on with jerky movements.

  “Run, krasavitsa,” he said, “go hide in your room, cry in the dark, and convince yourself that I’m a monster.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing,” she said, fisting her hands at her sides. “I need time.”

  “No,” he said evenly, “you need me to be a monster.”

  “Why would I need that?” she exclaimed.

  “To make it easier.”

  “To make what easier?”

  “Facing the fact that we’re coming to an end.”

  Her insides heated with anger. She shook so hard she thought she might combust. “Go to hell.”

  “If that’s what you need to get over it, I’ll gladly carry your misguided guilt for you.”

  A sob escaped her throat. She ran for the door. He wouldn’t see her tears. She climbed down the steps and ran from the library and down the hallway, all the way to her room.

  For the first time since she’d started sleeping in Lann’s room, she got into her own bed. The sheets were cold, and they felt like what they were—not her own.

  Chapter 9

  Kat huddled in her bed. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry because she was here instead of in Lann’s bed. She wanted to cry because he confirmed her worst suspicions. People had died at his hand. She wanted to cry because his words had cut deep. But most of all, she wanted to cry because he was right—she couldn’t face the end.