by Jayne Castle
There were not many hunters who could conjure a ghost the size of the one on the terrace tonight outside the catacombs. Most of those who were capable of such a feat sat on the Guild Council. That left him with ten suspects.
He was pretty sure he could narrow that number even more—all the way down to one.
15
LYDIA WAS WAITING for them when they walked back into the front hall of Number Seventeen. Her face was etched with anxiety.
“Are you okay?” she demanded, closing the door behind them.
“We’re both fine.”
That wasn’t strictly true. The afterburn was hitting him very hard now. With no threat in sight to distract him, he was plunged into the grip of raw lust. But he had never allowed himself to give in to the sexual craving inspired by a meltdown and he had no intention of doing so tonight. He was in control; he was always in control.
Lydia stood directly in front of him, frowning in concern. He looked at her standing there in the hall with the light from the lamp overhead gleaming on her red-gold hair. Her eyes were so deep and blue that he wanted to dive straight in and swim to the bottom. The urge to pull her down onto the floor, spread her legs, and thrust himself into her was almost overwhelming. He wanted to take her again and again until he was spent and empty.
Not exactly the romantic wedding night scenario of every woman’s dreams, he thought.
He pulled himself together with an effort, set Fuzz down on the bottom step, and showed Lydia the garage receipt. “I’m guessing our guy dropped it. Fuzz seemed to think it was important enough to bring back to me.”
Her brows drew together. “It doesn’t tell us much, just that whoever lost it probably works in the Guild building. That’s no big surprise, but there must be hundreds of Guild employees there.”
“Yeah.” He was having trouble concentrating. He was too busy looking down the front of her dress. The urge to touch her breasts was so strong it made his palms tingle.
He forced himself to turn away and walk deliberately to the ornately carved wooden cabinet of curiosities that he had installed in the front hall. The relic was an antique from Old Earth that one of his ancestors had managed to smuggle onboard a ship carrying colonists through the Curtain to Harmony.
“Who would do this, Emmett?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to think about how good she smelled when she was damp and aroused. “I’ll handle the problem.”
“Obviously someone doesn’t like the idea of you taking over the local Guild even on a temporary basis.”
“I said, I’ll deal with it.” He slammed the little drawer shut and raised his eyes to meet her reflection in the mirror that hung above the cabinet. Big mistake.
She blinked and then frowned in concern. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
He glanced at his watch and set his jaw. “In about forty minutes I’m going to crash. Until then I should probably go stand under a cold shower.”
“Ah, so that’s it.” She visibly relaxed. “You melted amber, didn’t you?”
“Didn’t have much choice.” He scrubbed his face with his hand. “That was the strongest ghost I’ve ever seen outside the catacombs.”
“And now you’re in the postmeltdown stage? The one where you get all lusty for a while and then collapse and sleep for hours?”
“That pretty much sums it up, yeah.” He made a face. “Sorry about this. Not exactly how I’d intended to end the evening.”
“It’s okay,” she said gently.
Her response was no doubt meant to soothe him but it had the opposite effect. She didn’t understand, he reminded himself. She couldn’t know that he’d spent most of his adult life trying not to become the stereotypical ghost-hunter of folklore and legend, trying to maintain control.
“No, it is not okay.” Frustration sizzled through him, sharpening all the edges. “Damn it, this is our wedding night. I had plans for this evening. Champagne and soft music and . . .” He broke off, moving one hand in a gesture of sheer disgust. “All the rest.”
Her eyes filled with wonder. “Emmett, that is so sweet, so romantic.”
Sweet? Romantic? He gave serious consideration to turning her over his knee.
Bad idea. Now he was obsessing on her lovely ass. Think about something else. Like all that paperwork sitting on his desk down at Guild headquarters.
“You’d better go to bed now, Lydia.” He made to step around her. “You can have the guest room tonight.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She blocked his path. “You don’t have to worry about freaking me out. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you in this condition.”
“Nothing happened last time and nothing’s going to happen this time,” he vowed. “In a little while I’ll crash and sleep it off.”
“But meanwhile you want to have hot, steamy sex, right?”
He wished she hadn’t used the words hot and steamy in the same sentence. “I’ll survive without it.”
“It’s all right.” She put her arms around his neck and smiled. “I like having sex with you, remember?”
He stood very still. With an act of sheer will power he managed to keep his hands at his sides.
“That’s not the point,” he replied.
“Oh, yeah?” Her smile grew more tantalizing, more inviting. Her eyes were filled with sensual mysteries. “What is the point here? I just told you I’m not nervous in the least. Maybe you’re the one who’s running scared? What’s the matter, London? Afraid you’ll lose control?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Being in control is a very big thing with you, isn’t it?” she whispered. “It took me a while to realize just how important it is. But you know what? Sometimes it’s okay to just let go. This is one of those times.”
She tightened her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts and hips against his tight, heavily aroused body, and kissed him with a bold, teasing deliberation. At the touch of her warm, damp mouth, his resolution was shattered.
Hell with it. Why was he fighting this so damn hard? Tonight was his wedding night and his wife wanted to make love.
His wife.
It was as if a prison door had suddenly opened, allowing him to walk free. A sense of spiraling anticipation rushed through him.
“So you’re not scared of me tonight?” He cupped her face in his hands. “Think you can handle your hunter husband when he’s in full afterburn?”
Her eyes widened a little but she did not try to back away. “You may be one heck of a hunter, Emmett London, but I’m one heck of a tangler. I can handle you.”
Heat swept through him. “Oh, man, I can’t wait to see just how you do that.”
He moved, catching her wrists and pinning her against the wall beside the cabinet of curiosities before she even realized what had happened. Bending his head, he kissed her, not holding anything back, letting her know just how hot he burned tonight.
Her mouth opened for him. She kicked off her shoes and drew one bare foot up along his leg.
“You really want to play with fire tonight, don’t you?” he said against her throat.
“Can’t wait,” she breathed.
He let her feel the edge of his teeth. “Neither can I.”
He released her wrists. Her arms promptly wound back around his neck. He felt her fingers plow through his hair.
Leaning into her so that he could feel the swell of her soft breasts, he reached down, grabbed the hem of her skirt, and shoved it up to her waist.
She gasped when he put his hand between her legs. His temperature went up another few degrees when he discovered that her panties were already damp.
“Talk about melting amber,” he murmured. “You’re the real thing, you know that? Hot, liquid amber. Right here in the palm of my hand.”
“You do have very good hands.” She twisted against his fingers.
He liked how she sucked in her breath when he touched
her. He liked it a lot. Impatience roared through him. He tugged the silky panties down out of the way. They fell to her ankles and she stepped out of them.
He was shaking a little now with the force of his need. He had to concentrate hard in order to unfasten his belt and unzip his trousers. When he finally freed himself, her eyes widened at the sight of his erection. Then she smiled slowly and reached down to stroke him.
He caught one of her smooth, sweetly rounded thighs, elevated her leg and folded it around his waist. She was open and ready. When he teased her tight little bud she gasped. He seized her other leg and tucked it around himself.
He braced her against the wall and thrust into her hot, snug body.
“Emmett.” She clutched at his shoulders to steady herself.
Again and again he drove himself into her. She clung to him as though he were a life raft in a storm, hanging on as if she would never let go.
When he was on the brink of his own release he pulled out of her spicy heat.
“No, wait,” she yelped. “I’m almost there.”
“Don’t worry, we’re both going to get where we’re going.”
He turned her around and bent her over at the waist in front of the cabinet of curiosities. Automatically she reached out with both hands to grasp the edge of the cabinet to steady herself.
“What in the—? Oh, my.” She looked at him in the mirror. Her eyes glowed with a mix of astonishment and sensual delight. “This is . . . interesting.”
He fitted his palms to her buttocks, savoring the firm, full curves. “It’s even better from my point of view.”
He positioned himself and entered her slick, tight vagina again, hard and fast.
She made a soft, exquisitely excited little sound and moved her lovely rear back a little, enabling him to go even deeper.
He took one hand off her waist and reached around and under her sleek belly to find the magic button.
When he made contact with her sensitive clitoris this time she gave a near soundless shriek and convulsed around him.
He went over the edge with her, pumping himself into her for what seemed like forever, until he was spent and dry.
She came back to her senses an eon or two later and discovered that she was lying on her back on the hall carpet. Emmett was sprawled heavily on top of her, his head pillowed on her breast. Somewhere along the line he must have turned off the overhead ceiling fixture because the space was drenched in shadows. A truly thoughtful gesture, she decided. Otherwise, in her current position, she would have been staring straight up into a very bright light.
“Emmett?”
“Mmmph?” He did not open his eyes.
She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Just wondered if you were asleep yet.”
“Almost.” He sounded as if he’d been drugged.
Once the afterburn buzz dissipated, exhaustion overtook a hunter very swiftly.
“We need to get you upstairs.”
“Nah. I’ll sleep here tonight.”
“On the floor? I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” She tried to wriggle out from underneath him. “You’ll wake up all stiff and sore.”
“Don’t mind,” he mumbled. But he shifted slightly, freeing her.
“Come on, you can make it up the stairs.” She crouched beside him, grabbed him under one arm, and tried to haul him upright.
“Forget it.” He opened one eye. “Isn’t going to work.”
“Yes, it is. Just stay awake for another three minutes and we’ll manage.”
He groaned but he got his feet under him and stood, swaying slightly. “You’re sort of bossy, you know that?”
“We all have our talents.”
She steadied him while he dragged himself up the stairs. When they reached the top she shoved him into the bedroom. He dropped like a large, heavy boulder onto the bed.
“Satisfied?” he mumbled into the pillow.
She smiled to herself, thinking of the events that had just taken place downstairs in the front hall. “Very.”
“Hell of a wedding night, huh?”
“I’ll certainly never forget it.”
“Not the way I planned it,” he said, barely whispering now.
“I know,” she said gently. “But it doesn’t matter.” She unfolded the blanket at the foot of the bed and spread it over him. “Emmett?”
“Mmm?”
“There’s something I want to ask you. Something very personal.”
“This probably isn’t a good time.” His words were so slurred she could barely make them out. “Can’t think straight anymore.”
Which was exactly why she had decided to ask the question, she thought. But there was no need to explain.
“Earlier tonight you were afraid to make love to me while you were rezzed from the amber meltdown. Did you really believe I’d think that you were some kind of sex-crazed beast who couldn’t control himself?”
There was such a long silence that she thought he’d fallen asleep.
“Didn’t want you to think I was just another hunter,” he muttered. “Your opinion of hunters is kinda low, y’know?”
“You’re not like any other hunter.” She tucked the blanket in around him. “You’re different.”
“Yeah?” he growled. “How?”
“You’re my husband.”
She walked out of the room and shut the door very quietly behind her.
16
THE DOORBELL CHIMED imperiously the following morning just as Lydia started to pour a second cup of rez-tea for Emmett.
“I’m up, I’ll get it.” She put down the pot and walked out of the kitchen.
Fuzz, who had been eating his breakfast out of a dish on the floor, abandoned his eggs and toast to scamper after her.
“If it’s one of the neighbors complaining about that little scene with the ghost last night,” Emmett called after her, “let me handle it.”
“Other than a few scorch marks on our terrace, there was no damage done,” she said over her shoulder. “The neighbors have no grounds for complaint.”
“They may feel a little differently about the matter,” he warned.
When she reached the hall she took a quick look around to make sure that there was no evidence of the Grand Consummation. Everything appeared to be in order, she decided, but she knew that she would never walk into this house again without thinking of her wedding night.
She opened the door and found thirteen-year-old Zane Hoyt, her neighbor at the Dead City View Apartments, on the front step. He was dressed in his favorite ghost-hunter-wannabe outfit complete with a big chunk of amber around his neck. Fuzz hopped into his arms.
“Hi, Lydia.” Zane beamed at her as he scratched Fuzz. “Aunt Olinda says you and Mr. London got married yesterday. It’s in all the papers, she says. I came by to see if it was really true.”
“It’s true.”
Zane had lost his parents at an early age. He was being raised by his aunt. His greatest ambition in life was to become a ghost-hunter. He certainly had the psi-talent for it, but Lydia had been hoping to steer him toward a more respectable career path.
Now that Emmett had entered Zane’s life, however, she had a hunch that she was fighting a losing battle. Zane had immediately glommed onto Emmett as a father figure. Hero worship was powerful stuff.
Zane leaned forward to examine her left hand. “Wow, you’ve got a ring and everything. That is so high-rez.” His face lit with excitement. “You’re married to the hottest ghost-hunter of them all. Mr. London’s the boss of the whole Guild now, you know?”
“Trust me, I’m aware of that.”
“Aunt Olinda says to give you her congratulations. She says we’re gonna watch you and Mr. London walk into the fancy party at Restoration Hall on the rez-screen tonight.”
“I’ll be sure to wave.” She glanced at her watch. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“I’m on my way. Just wanted to see what was going on for myself so I could tell ev
eryone in class.”
Emmett sauntered into the front hall and opened the closet door. “Morning, Zane. How’s it going today?”
“I’m doing fine, Mr. London, except for that stupid test I’ve got to take this morning. I just stopped by to see Lydia and you and tell you that I think it’s really great that you two got married.”
“Thanks. Appreciate that.” Emmett hooked his jacket over his shoulder and picked up his briefcase. He gave Lydia a brief but thorough good-bye kiss. Then he looked at Zane. “I’m on my way into the office. I’ll give you a ride to school.”
“All right.” Zane almost levitated with excitement. “Wait’ll the guys see me getting out of the Guild boss’s own personal Slider.”
He handed Fuzz to Lydia and whipped around to race toward the vehicle.
“You’ve certainly made his day,” Lydia said to Emmett.
A sexy gleam lit his eyes. “You certainly made my night, Mrs. London. Sorry I zoned out just as things were getting interesting.”
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “If things had gotten any more interesting, I wouldn’t be able to move this morning.”
His amusement vanished. A watchful expression replaced the sensual laughter in his gaze.
“Are you . . . okay?” he asked very quietly.
She folded her arms and leaned one shoulder against the edge of the door frame. “I hope this won’t dent your hunter pride too much but I gotta tell you that I’m just fine this morning.”
The tightness at the corners of his mouth eased. “Just fine?”
She wrinkled her nose. “You didn’t scare me one little bit last night, London, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
His mouth quirked. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“I didn’t make you even a little bit nervous?”
“Nope.”
“Huh.” He took his foot down off the step. “Well, I’ll have to see what I can do to improve my technique tonight. Maybe if I put my mind to it I can summon a really, really big ghost and induce an even hotter afterburn.”