THE EQUINOX STONE (Knights of Manus Sancti Book 2)

by Bryn Donovan

  “Oh, really? What’s that?” Vaguely, he thought it might have to do with her psychic talents—some kind of magic.

  She stroked him through his boxer briefs, immediately bringing him to full attention. Then she tugged down on the underwear. Good, he thought as he moved quickly to take them off. She was overcoming her shyness, asserting her claim on his body. He tried to pull her up to kiss her again, and she resisted.

  “No, I want to…” When he met her eyes for clarification, she ducked her head and mumbled, “I want to go down on you.”

  Oh, wow. That would be something close to magic. His breath quickened, and he touched her cheek. “You sure?”

  She looked up again, her brown eyes wide, and said, “But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Believe me, I’ll love it.” This was a comfortable way for her to try it, with them both on the bed, her kneeling alongside him.

  He took her hand and wrapped it around the base of his shaft. Her fingers felt cool, but he was burning for her. Should he tell her what to do, how to start?

  She bent down and dragged her tongue from where she lightly gripped him up to the tip, in one long, exploratory lick. He would’ve loved it under any circumstances, but this was Valentina, making herself vulnerable and venturing further from her comfort zone in order to give him pleasure; that knowledge, coupled with the physical sensation, was almost too much. Tentatively, she swirled her tongue around the head.

  “That’s good, that’s so good,” he murmured, petting her hair, willing her to know how much her exploration meant to him—how much she meant to him. Her hair tickled him lightly, a maddening sensation. He reached down and took her hand again, guiding it to stroke his balls. She followed his lead, the touch of her fingertips and her tongue too light for him, and he tried to think of how to tell her that. Then she enveloped the head of his cock in the sweet, wet heat of her mouth and sucked.

  “Fuuck,” he groaned. “Sorry.”

  Without drawing back, she giggled, and it vibrated through him. She took more of him in his mouth again and drew back.

  Ouch. Pain intruded on his bliss as she did it again. But she didn’t know she was being rough. “Hey, hang on a sec,” he said gently, touching her shoulder. She released him and raised her head, a question in her eyes. “Be careful with your teeth, okay?” he asked. “That’s all.”

  She cringed. “I told you I didn’t know what to do.”

  “It’s okay—”

  “Oh, Goddess.” She looked away, as if scanning the room for a hole to hide in.

  “You didn’t hurt me. I mean, not seriously. Everything’s fine.”

  But she covered her face. “Ugh, this was a stupid idea.”

  This was bad. He’d had to say something, but he couldn’t stand for her to feel embarrassed. And he really wanted her to take him into her mouth again.

  He sat up and gently took her hands from her face. “It’s okay, come on. You’re learning.” Thank God she was an empath. She would feel how much he loved sharing this with her—and how much he still wanted her to keep going.

  The shame faded from her features, and she managed a small smile. “Maybe I’ll try again.”

  “Please.” He lay back, propped up on her elbows. “Come on. I believe in you.”

  That made her laugh, breaking the tension. She took him into her mouth again, more than half his length, and brought her head up, down again.

  “Yes, God,” he said. “That’s perfect.”

  As she fell into a rhythm, she was still stroking his balls. He lay all the way back down, closing his eyes.

  Valentina Vega is giving me a blowjob. This is actually happening.

  The thought didn’t freak him out—it thrilled him. His breaths came faster. Murmuring encouragement and endearments to her, he forced himself to remain still rather than pushing himself farther into her. Without his urging, she took him in deeper. He opened his eyes, indulging in the sight of her thick, curly hair falling around her face as she served him. He reached down to caress her cheek. Then she gagged.

  “Hey,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to take all of it. And stop any time you want.” Was he talking too much? He always talked too much. “Or use your hands if you get tired.” Maybe he should shut up. But if he didn’t tell her, how would she know?

  She raised her head again, her hair a gorgeous mess, her lips plump and strawberry-red. The sight of her was almost too much. In a breathy voice, she asked, “Have you done this before?”

  His body protested the interruption. “Gotten a blowjob?”

  “Given one.” She slicked her hand up and down his length.

  He grunted. Every inch of his body felt alive at her touch, making it difficult to carry on a conversation. “I’ve done about everything at least twice.”

  “Twice?”

  “In case the first time wasn’t a good example,” he managed to say.

  She laughed. He reached down to wrap his fingers around hers briefly, squeezing them tighter around his girth. “A little harder.”

  She gripped him more firmly, finding a perfect cadence. He groaned. “Like that?” she asked.

  Yeah, like that. He nodded. The sight of her touching him, looking down at him with a mixture of curiosity and ardor, enthralled him.

  But the enjoyment she brought him mingled with tension. Part of him felt uncomfortable receiving without giving in return. That had never been him, even with strangers. His pleasure ratcheted to a greater height, but his mind was troubled, holding back.

  “Michael,” she said softly. “Relax.”

  Breathless, he stared at her. She leaned her head down to drag her tongue from the hilt to the tip, all while looking at him. Holy God. The eye contact as much as the sensation threatened to undo him.

  “Relax. You deserve this,” she said, in that higher voice, the one that sent tingles across his scalp and down his spine, compelling him to obey. She truly was an angel. Only an angel could sound like that…

  He closed his eyes. Her hot, sweet mouth surrounded the head of his cock again, sucking on it harder than before. She wasn’t exactly adept, but Christos, she was learning fast, and her very inexperience made her unpredictable and exciting, stirring gratitude in his soul to match the fire raging through his body. She couldn’t have been more vulnerable, and he could be too. He could let go.

  She took most of his length in again and worked up and down, and he reached down blindly to touch her hair. God, he loved her. He loved her, and he was close—

  “I’m going to come,” he rasped. She nodded—well, he thought; he wasn’t sure if she understood. “You don’t have to— I can come on your tits, or wherever…”

  There was no way she hadn’t understood that, but she ignored him and kept going. He knew a moment of complete helplessness, unable to move or to hold himself back. And then rapture flooded through him. He heard his own guttural, involuntary cry. He came into her mouth, and to his amazement, she swallowed all of it in one pulse after another.

  “Oh, God,” he gasped. He reached down for her, pulling her up into his arms. He tried to catch his breath. Her face was damp on his bare shoulder, and she sniffled. Her eyes had watered from what she’d done for him. Humbled, adoring, he kissed the wetness from her cheeks and tasted salt.

  Her big, brown eyes looked up at him, all liquid innocence. “That was good?” she whispered.

  “That was incredible,” he corrected her, his voice hoarse. “What did you think? About doing it?”

  “Hmm.” She looked so adorably pleased with herself that it brought him even more happiness. “I liked it.”

  “Yes. Thank God—I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

  “I bet you didn’t mean to say ‘tits,’ either.”

  “What?”

  She fake-pouted. Christos, nobody could pout like his girl. “You called my breasts ‘tits.’”

  Oh yeah, he had. He let out a short laugh. “You’re lucky I could form any words.”


  She giggled and nestled into him. He stroked her hair that spilled on his chest. God, it’s good to be a man. He didn’t know when he’d been so satisfied, body and soul.

  “I probably need more practice,” she said.

  “I’m not going to talk you out of it,” he admitted, grinning. “But I need to pay you back first. I owe you.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t need to think like that.”

  “Maybe not.” He twirled one of her curls around his index finger. “Maybe I just love going down on you.”

  She lifted her head to look at him. “You really do, don’t you? Why?”

  “Mmm.” He stretched a little. Sex always made him feel lazy afterward. “I like the way you taste. And the noises you make. You sound like you’re warming up to sing.”

  She gasped. “What?”

  “You keep going higher, like, ahhh…ahhh…”

  “I do not!”

  He laughed. “You do.”

  She ducked her head. “You’re going to make me self-conscious.”

  He petted her hair. “I hope not. It’s so fucking sexy—and I’m not apologizing for saying that, so don’t ask me.”

  “I didn’t mind,” she said softly, smiling. She lay her head down on his chest again.

  You deserve this, she’d said. He’d make sure that was always true.

  *

  On Monday morning, when Val was in the classroom with Michael, it was hard not to think about what she’d done with him on Friday night.

  She’d been mortified at one point, but he’d made her feel better immediately. It was hard not thinking about trying again…and trying other things she’d only read about or seen drawings of. Sex had gone from a fantasy to very real possibilities.

  Outwardly, at the front of the classroom, he had his same stern demeanor, and his eyes, so strange-looking with the brown contacts, didn’t focus on her when he scanned the rows of students. His emotional signature sparked bright with sexual affection and simple happiness. She hadn’t expected to take any enjoyment in this undercover assignment, but sharing this secret connection with him, in the middle of a restrictive institution, was undeniably fun.

  At lunch, she sat down with Mia in the cafeteria, and Britt joined them soon after.

  “Did you get your paper in?” Val asked her. Britt had been nervous about a history assignment.

  Britt nodded unhappily. “I think I’m going to get a C. At least it’s done.”

  “Why do you have two diet Cokes?” Mia asked Britt.

  “I’m so sleepy! I fell asleep in Mrs. Hammons’s class. I mean, totally asleep. I dreamed and everything.”

  “It’s no wonder. She’s boring,” Mia said.

  Val recalled Lori Hammons from the brief and from seeing her in the hallway—a tall woman with brown hair and hunched shoulders. Val guessed her to be about sixty.

  “Do you have her for English?” Britt asked Val.

  “No, I have Ms. Yoder.”

  “You’re lucky. She’s so much funner.”

  Val felt a stab of pity for the older teacher. No doubt she was doing her best.

  “Mrs. Hammons is the worst,” Britt went on. “And she was in my dream.”

  “Eww,” Mia said. “What was she doing?”

  Britt took a swig of Diet Coke. “It was so weird. We were in this living room where everything was made of yarn. Like, the couch and the lamp…and there was a cross-stitched TV remote. Like, it was all crafts.”

  Val froze, her fork in mid-air, staring at Britt.

  Mia giggled. “Maybe it’s your future. You’re going to knit a house.”

  Act normally. Val set the fork down.

  It wasn’t possible for people to dream of their own soulscapes. When someone else went into a person’s psyche, that person became aware of it, but otherwise, it remained on the edge of their consciousness. When a person was Read for the first time, their soulscape often felt familiar, but it was always a revelation.

  Britt lowered her voice. “She asked me if I was a virgin, and I said no.” Her cheeks stained red. “And she looked disappointed in me, and that was it. I woke up, and she was right next to me shaking my arm, telling me to wake up.”

  Lori could Read people.

  She was Tribunal. Why else would she be going into girls’ psyches to ask them creepy questions? She probably needed physical contact, since she’d been shaking Britt’s arm, and she probably couldn’t compress the time—she’d only asked one question. It had only taken a couple of seconds. She hadn’t wiped Britt’s memory of the invasion, but very few people were capable of that.

  The girls who’d gotten pregnant had something to do with Lori. Val’s heart was pounding hard. She dug out her phone to text the others.

  “Who are you texting?” Britt demanded.

  “My uncle Jason. I forgot something.” She sent a message to Michael, Nic, and Jacinto. Lori Hammons Tribunal.

  “What’d you forget?” Mia asked. “Your homework?”

  Val shook her head. “It’s private.”

  Nic responded immediately. You all right? She answered in the affirmative, and he texted, DO NOTHING. Talk tonight.

  The bell for the next class rang, and Val gathered her things and proceeded to the door. She had the whole afternoon to get through.

  She wished she could talk it over with Michael right away—pull him outside the back doors to the school or into an empty classroom. Nic wouldn’t approve. But Michael would make her feel better.

  Stepping out of the classroom, she felt him before she saw him at the other end of the hall, his back to her, talking to someone. His emotional signature was still lit up with desire.

  That surprised her. The news about Lori was startling, after all. Still, she had to smile. The fire between them was hard to put out, she supposed, no matter what happened. As she drew nearer, she reminded herself not to say or do anything to give away their relationship.

  But when she drew closer and could sense him better, her soul fell to her feet.

  His fire was not for her. It focused on the woman he was talking to, and she returned it in kind.

  Val’s heart beat faster, almost audibly in her ears. Somehow, she kept walking, taking one step after another in the throng of students, feeling anonymous and worthless as she advanced toward her own betrayal.

  It was Lilly Yoder, wearing a tight yellow cardigan, her face aglow with excitement. As Val passed them, she met Michael’s eyes.

  Chagrin eclipsed his signature—that and, yes, love and concern for her, but it was too late for that. He couldn’t speak to her about this now, and even if he’d been able to, what could he have said to make her feel better? He’d promised to love only her.

  No. He’d promised to do his best.

  Well, his best wasn’t much. He wasn’t focused on the mission, or on her. Just on the woman in the tight sweater.

  Trembling inside with hurt and fury, she walked as fast as she could without running to the school doors. Her body had responded to the heat between them, adding to her humiliation. She’d made herself vulnerable the other night, trying something new, trying to please him, and this was how he repaid her.

  When she found Jacinto’s car and got in, he asked, “How are you? You look like you lost your best friend.”

  I think I did. Despair hit Val hard, and she fought back tears. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please just get me home.”

  Jacinto nodded. In all likelihood, he’d already figured out that this was about Michael. As he pulled out of the parking space, he said, “I know being an empath is tough.”

  Being cheated on was tough for anyone.

  But it wasn’t cheating, a small voice in her head argued. It wasn’t even close.

  She ignored it. She’d always trusted her feelings, and she definitely felt cheated on.

  Who could she talk to about this? Not Jonathan, obviously. Not her parents, who adored Michael. Like everyone did, she thought bitterly.

  He’d warned h
er he’d be bad at relationships. Why hadn’t she listened?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  As Michael approached the safe house that evening, apprehension twisted his gut. When Val had seen him talking to Lilly, she’d looked crushed. It had taken all of his self-control not to run after her and explain that there was nothing to worry about.

  Lilly had been looking particularly cute that day. Yeah, he’d noticed. He wasn’t blind. And she was fun to talk to, even when he was being Mike McClure, who was kind of a dick. But that was all it was.

  He could talk to Val about it tonight after the call. Maybe she’d come to her senses already, though. Who knew?

  Jacinto greeted him at the door. “Val’s upstairs,” he said as they moved to the living room. “She had a really bad day.” He gave Michael a keen look, and the bad feeling in his gut worsened.

  Val came down one minute before the call.

  He smiled at her. “Hey.”

  She nodded without looking at him and took the seat the farthest from him.

  Shit.

  About a hundred times in the past several hours, he’d told himself that everything was going to be fine. He’d apologize, turn on the charm, make a joke, and it’d all be over.

  It wasn’t going to be that easy. But he’d make it right, anyway. He had to. It couldn’t be over yet. They’d just gotten started.

  When Nic got on the phone, he immediately asked, “Val, what happened? How do you know Lori’s Tribunal?”

  “Britt talked about a dream he had. She was describing Lori being in her psyche.”

  “She can Read people?”

  “That doesn’t make her Tribunal,” Jacinto pointed out.

  “She was asking Britt if she was a virgin. Which she’s not,” Val added. “And the other day…Britt told me that two different girls at the school have gotten pregnant, even though they said they hadn’t had sex.”

  “What?” Nic leaned forward.

  “The girls went to this home called Living Hope? For teenage mothers.”

  “I’ve heard of those,” Michael said.

  “And the babies got adopted out.” Val looked miserable. “I should’ve texted you. I should’ve known it was serious.”