She returned his smoldering gaze with her own. “I’m right there with you.”
They broke off touching long enough to strip each other, pulling off shoes and socks, jeans and underwear, dropping them heedlessly on the floor. Until they were naked.
Cheryl leaned back into soft upholstery, giving him a deliberately lusty grin. Posing a little. See what you gave up?
“Nice couch,” Ulf muttered, eyes glittering as he contemplated her. “All that pale skin against all that black leather.”
“Sounds kinky when you put it that way.” She eyed the thick jut of his cock.
He gave her a tight, strained smile, sinking to his knees by the couch.
It wasn’t the first time she’d seen that look on his face. “What does that mean?”
“What does what mean?”
“That closed-mouth thing you’re doing. You always do that.”
He shrugged, “Trying not to flash my fangs.”
As he spoke, she saw them -- white, sharp, almost an inch long. Cheryl blinked. “Damn, how was I with you for a decade without noticing?” Her eyes widened. Alys had bespelled her into ignoring them, just like the fact he never ate and she couldn’t wake him during the day. She’d just automatically closed the blackout curtains whenever he slept.
Which was bad enough, but they’d given Adam a variation of the same treatment. He, too, had been bespelled to ignore occasional glimpses of his father’s fangs. To accept the fact Ulf could never attend daytime school events. Anger flashed through her, but Ulf reached out a long arm to lay a finger to her lips. “Please.”
That was all. Just please.
Cheryl realized she didn’t really want fight about it, either. Not if this night was the only one she was going to get with him. Especially given the Hive…
Suppressing that thought, she grabbed his wrist and gave it a quick, hard tug. His eyes widened as she pulled him off the floor and into her arms. Ignoring his surprised grunt, Cheryl kissed him, fangs and all. She did it hard too, thrusting her tongue between those sharp points, then swirling around them, tasting him thoroughly. And started losing her grip on anger.
His big body felt so deliciously hard against hers, all sculpted muscle, the perfect balance between power and speed. Glad there was a spell. I’d hate to think I was really stupid enough to believe this man sold pharmaceuticals.
The tip of a fang raked her lower lip, drawing blood. He made an apologetic sound, tried to pull back. She clamped a hand around the back of his neck and held him still. “No. Show me who you really are. You don’t need to protect me anymore.”
His gaze met hers, and for a moment she saw his sadness and regret.
Then he began to do exactly as she asked. Skilled, warm hands caressed and pinched aching nipples, sketched ticklish little designs over her belly and thighs. A little frown drew his brows down, and she knew he was probably comparing her Gaia-honed body to that soft little college senior he’d met. But he kept whatever questions he had to himself, his tongue sweeping hot circles around one nipple, then suckling hard until pleasure silvered her every nerve in light.
She was panting by the time he started working his way down her body, even as she stroked and touched and explored every hard inch of him she could reach. Greedy as a child at Christmas.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured.
She laughed in a harsh bark. “I’ve had work done.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “I’m talking about more than your body.” Then he nibbled at the taut muscle of her belly. “Though God knows, the body’s amazing.”
Cheryl couldn’t help but grin. She’d never expected to hear those words again. Not at her age. “You’re not bad either.” When he slid out of her arms to drape her legs over his shoulders, she protested. “Hey, I want to taste you too.”
“Not this time.” His voice sounded rough, freighted with some darker emotion. “This time I’m going to pleasure you.” Parting her vaginal lips with his fingers, he traced his tongue over the sensitive skin between in one long, hot lick up through wet lips all the way to her clit. The swirling flourish he gave it made her convulse against him with a ragged gasp. “Jesus, Paul!”
Glittering eyes flicked up to hers. “Ulf,” he growled, as if he couldn’t take hearing his alias from her one more time.
Before that reminder could drag her down an unpleasant rabbit hole, he started on her clit. His tongue strokes were as quick and light as a hummingbird’s wing, sketching delicious little circles, figure eights, arcane patterns, all with just the right amount of pressure to drive her insane.
She dug the nails of one hand into his shoulders.
He grunted in surprise, and she realized she’d drawn blood. Hastily, she relaxed her grip. “Sorry!”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice sounded ragged as he sank a finger deep into her wet, wet pussy and began stroking in and out. “God, you’re tight. I can’t wait to get into you again.”
He treated her clit with such merciless skill, he stripped her of any thought but him. She arched into him, rolling her hips helplessly as he fingered and teased, licked and suckled. Racking waves of pleasure rolled over her. Her legs tensed, muscles quivering as the orgasm shuddered through her so hard, she saw stars.
She’d forgotten how glorious this was. Or maybe she just hadn’t let herself remember because it hurt too much.
Ulf reached his free hand up, found one desperately hard nipple. Tugged, twisted, adding more sweet ribbons of pleasure whipping through her body. “Fuck me!” Cheryl gasped. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…”
His lips moved against her pussy. “No. Not yet.” There was a dark note in his voice.
Ulf’s got a dominant streak. Never noticed that before…
He gave her another set of blinding licks, and she writhed, her fists tightening in his hair, dragging him harder against her desperate pussy. “Please!” The word was almost a wail.
Ulf raised his head to give her a glittering, calculating stare. “Yeah, that’s what I was looking for. Desperation.” He pounced, stretching out on top of her, braced on one powerful arm as he used the other hand to guide himself to the opening of her cunt. He seated himself in one hard lunge that made her scream in relief as he caged her in his warrior’s body.
But he didn’t start thrusting right away. Instead, those incredible blue-green eyes bored into hers, wide, feral. Hungry.
He lowered his head to take her mouth, tongue sliding deep, letting her taste herself. With a groan, she wrapped one arm around his massive torso, the other behind his head, deepening the kiss. They ate at each other, starving, maybe even little mean, the kiss all lust and need.
And pain. Don’t forget the pain.
Cheryl could not take one single second more of his mouth. She jerked back, baring her teeth at him. “Fuck me!”
Regret flashed in his eyes. Then he nodded. Ulf began to grind down on her as she slammed up, meeting his every thrust, fighting to find the rhythm as they bucked heedlessly together. Above her, turquoise eyes narrowed over the white of those alien fangs.
When she couldn’t take staring into his teeth any longer, Cheryl squeezed her eyes shut. But his cock felt incredible as the pumping force of his hips dug against her clit, building her pleasure higher as she strained for the orgasm just out of reach. Locking both legs around his working ass, she pressed her heels in hard. Every muscle tensed as her second climax barreled down on her and their hips slapped together in a hot rhythm.
The orgasm blasted her in a fireball, and she arched so hard she lifted them both off the couch. He roared, tossing his head back, the sound raw with need and triumph. Cheryl’s inner muscles milked his long cock as he pulsed inside her.
At last she collapsed under him, breathing hard, her eyes closed as she fought to regain her breath and emotional balance. They lay panting in each other’s arms, heartbeats slowing, their bodies dewed with sweat. Something that felt almost like peace rolled over her. So, predicta
bly, the voice of sanity reared its ugly head. That was a mistake.
I know. I just don’t give a fuck.
Chapter Three
As the delicious lassitude of the orgasm began to lift, Ulf sighed in pleasure, scooped her off the couch, and rearranged them with her draped across his body. It was a position they’d assumed a thousand times, and she found herself relaxing into him. He began playing with her hair, the gesture idle and tender. How often had he done that when they’d been together? “He’s not the monster you think he is.”
Cheryl blinked. Where did that come from? She knew who “he” was, of course. With Ulf, there was only one “he.” Arthur.
“I never thought he was a monster.” Her lips tightened. “Just a ruthless asshole.”
“I wouldn’t be alive if not for that ruthless asshole.”
“Well, no, given that you wouldn’t be immortal.” She ignored the stab of pain at the thought of Ulf dust in his grave.
“I wouldn’t even have lived to see eleven.”
She rolled her head to look up at him. “Sounds like a story.” Searching her memory, Cheryl frowned. “And one I don’t know, since you didn’t have Gaia’s ring then.”
“Yes, that was long before Merlin came into our lives.” He gazed at the ceiling, his eyes distant as he toyed with the curl, rubbing it absently between his fingers. “Uther Pendragon, now, he was a monster.”
“Arthur’s father, right?” Gaia’s memories did include that detail. Her mind disgorged a few more. “High King of Britain, and not exactly beloved.”
“That’s putting it mildly. The nobles were in a constant state of borderline rebellion because of his ruinous taxes, disastrous policies, and backstabbing habits. Uther particularly distrusted my father, Baldane, Earl of Clyster, who absolutely would not kiss the royal arse.”
“So Adam gets that attitude from both sides of the family.”
Ulf laughed. “True enough.” His voice took on an odd musical lilt, like a cross between Irish and Italian, not the American accent he usually affected. A ghost of the lost Celtic tongue of Roman Britain. “When I was seven, the king demanded I be sent to court. Supposedly as a page, but really as a hostage. Uther told me repeatedly that if my father ever stepped out of line, I was a dead brat.”
Cheryl’s smile faded, imagining a little blond boy all alone among strangers, at the mercy of a vicious, petty tyrant. “Gaia doesn’t remember any of that.”
“I’m not surprised. I don’t dwell on those memories. Suffice it to say, Uther left me with a distaste for bullies. That was one reason I was so ready to beat some manners into that idiot in your bookstore.”
“I can see that,” she said faintly.
“Not long after Arthur returned from his fosterage with Sir Kay’s family, I did something to piss Uther off. I don’t remember what. He was in the process of breaking my ribs when Arthur intervened. The prince told me later he knew what it was like being on the receiving end of Uther’s fists, since his father was always accusing him of plotting treason.”
Her brows climbed. “He beat Arthur too?”
“Oh, aye. The king was a bull of a man, and Arthur was fourteen, so you can see what stones it took for him to interfere. If Uther had gone after him instead, he wouldn’t have had a prayer. But Arthur convinced the king my father would rebel if I died. Thanks to that silver tongue, Uther told him he could have me and be damned.”
“Wow.” She mentally took back some of her nastier opinions of the Once and Future King.
Ulf stared into the distance, a smile curving his lips. “It was like being rescued from the jaws of hell. Sir Kay was teaching Arthur and Lance swordplay, and he let me join the lessons. A year later, Uther was assassinated while dining with the prince. Arthur slew the assassin…”
She frowned. “Wait, wouldn’t he have been… what? Fifteen?”
“Aye. Arthur killed him with his belt knife when the whoreson tried to slit Arthur’s throat. Then we spent the next decade fighting all the rebellious nobles Uther had pissed off. Got right lively for a time.”
“No wonder you’re so loyal.”
“It wasn’t just gratitude, Cheryl. You should’ve seen Arthur then. So much charisma and shining optimism. And he’s a tactical genius. He could be hot-tempered, aye, but he truly believed God had made him king to serve his people as much as to rule them.”
Her brows lifted. “An idealist.”
“Exactly. Not the grim, ruthless son of a bitch he is now. God, he could give a speech. He can do that now, of course, but he believed it more then.” He pulled the curl he was playing with. Turned it loose to watch it bounce. “Then came Merlin, and the Great Mission to save humanity from itself.”
That she knew about. What are you getting at?
“There’s only so much we’re permitted to do, you know. In theory, the Majae could’ve laid spells on all those kings, presidents, and dictators to make them quit abusing their people. Even Hitler. But that would be a violation of our oath to Merlin. We can guide, but not force.”
He rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone, his expression brooding. “After a while, it starts eating at you. The failure and frustration. The two steps forward, one step back. By the time I met you, I was thoroughly fucked in the head. I didn’t think I could keep going any longer. What was the God-cursed point? Was humanity even worth saving?” A crooked smile bloomed across his face, and he huffed a laugh. “Then I watched you apply a carpet sweeper to that idiot’s balls. You were all fierce wit and courage… everything worth saving. But you didn’t need me to save you. You saved yourself. No wonder I fell for you.”
Yet all the time you were with me, you knew you’d eventually have to go.
Before the bitter thought could spill out of her mouth, Ulf bent and nuzzled her ear, kissed along the line of her jaw. And God, it felt good. Like his arms, wrapped around her, cradling her as if she was precious as he rolled to tuck her under him again. Some part of her wanted to forget the past and just melt into the pleasure he could give her so effortlessly.
Which was just fucking stupid, because he wouldn’t stay with her. Couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He was a vampire. To survive, he needed to Daysleep in the Mageverse ten or fifteen times a month, at minimum. And she couldn’t live in the Mageverse. She wasn’t sure what extended separation from her magic would do to her, and she didn’t want to find out.
Then there was Arthur, and the bond she now realized Ulf would never be willing to break. This meant nothing. A feeling of anger and weary despair washed over her, and suddenly she needed to get away from him. “Get off.” She planted her hands against his shoulders and gave him a push. Must have been harder than she intended; she lifted his torso off hers.
He looked down at her, frowning. “Cheryl…”
“I’m done.”
The pain that flashed through his eyes made her feel like the biggest bitch living, but she reminded herself how he’d left her hollowed out, a ghost in her own life. Yeah, he’d provided for her and Adam. He’d given them this house and sent checks every month. She’d deposited the money in a college fund that eventually sent their son to UCLA.
None of it had made up for what he’d taken away -- himself. Adam had grown up without a father, and she’d sealed herself in a block of loveless ice. And she fucking wasn’t ready to forgive him for that.
“Cheryl…”
“Get. Off.”
He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before, frowning and uneasy. “What brought this on?”
“Give it some thought. I’m sure it’ll come to you.”
As if realizing he’d pushed her too far, Ulf slipped off her, bent with muscular male grace, and started picking up the clothing they’d tossed aside. When he handed over her scrubs, she snatched them and retreated to the recliner to dress, trying to ignore him.
Ulf, for his part, took his sweet time dressing. She found her eyes lingering as he bent to pull on his boxers. He’d always had the most gorgeous ass
she’d ever seen.
Cheryl dragged her eyes away. Even so, the treasonous little shits sneaked back to watch as he shrugged into his tee, his torso rolling from side to side as he moved. Muscle flexed under velvet skin that was still tanned, though she knew for a fact his body hadn’t seen the sun in centuries. She forced her attention back to hauling on her clothes before she lost her common sense and jumped him again.
“I want you to come back to the Mageverse with me.” That lovely Irish-Italian lilt had vanished, leaving his accent clipped and American again.
Cheryl’s jaw dropped as she looked up from tying one shoe. “What?”
Turning to face her, Ulf put his hands on his hips. The pose called attention to those gorgeous biceps. She had no doubt he knew it, too, the bastard.
“We’ve got some questions.” He gave her a narrow stare. “Arthur wants to talk to you about what happened to Kel.”
Cheryl eyed him as her temper began to steam. “So this little seduction was designed to lure me to the Mageverse for interrogation?”
He flinched ever so slightly. “No.”
“Damn, I wish I could believe that.” She rose to her feet as her anger turned to outrage. “You seriously think I’d light the Blue Ridge Mountains on fire to kill three thousand people.”
His eyes didn’t drop. “You? No. Gaia…”
“Do you often sleep with women you suspect of attempted mass murder?”
“I told you, I don’t think you did it, but someone sure as hell did. And sometimes there’s a look on your face…”
“That’s called pissed.”
He ignored the comment. “Maybe it was Gaia, maybe it was somebody like Gaia. We need to find out what you know.”
“I can tell you who didn’t do it -- Gaia. She had nothing to do with it.”
He sighed and moved closer. Cheryl took an instinctive step back, knowing just how strong and fast he really was. Yeah, Gaia had turned her into a weapon, but he was still Sir Baldulf of the Round Table.
“That’s the thing,” he told her softly. “You’re a mortal. It’s not that difficult to make mortals believe things that aren’t true.”
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