Dark of Night

by T. F. Walsh

  Kagan’s intense gaze zeroed in on her. Something in their midnight-blue depths made her heart race faster. She gulped her liquor and looked away. Coward. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs and his drink dangling between his knees. She attempted to swallow past the knot of tension in her throat. Her eyes flicked to the proof of his arousal, blatant behind the faded denim. Mouth dry, her gaze fell. Shit.

  Kagan drained the contents of his glass, then thumped the tumbler down hard on the coffee table. His lips were thin, bloodless, and his expression brooked no argument. “What exactly are we doing here, Mira?”

  She tucked her legs beneath her and crossed her arms, her voice less than determined. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  His finger traced the fleece covering her thigh, his gaze narrowed on the pattern. “I wouldn’t call what happened tonight nothing.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’d call it a mistake.”

  “I see. A mistake.” Kagan fisted the blanket.

  She seriously doubted he saw anything. No one understood her shame, her guilt, the permanent taint of filth on her soul. She chugged the rest of her bourbon. It burned her throat and she choked. Tears ran down her cheeks, and Kagan thumped her back hard. The hacking ended on a hiccup.

  His hand continued to rub in slow circles, warming her far more than the fleece. She’d stopped choking, yet he was still rubbing her back. Fuck. Mira reached for the bottle. What the hell, right? If one’s good, more’s better. At least maybe she wouldn’t remember the events of this horrendous freak show of an evening.

  Kagan caught her wrist before she made contact. His other hand continued its hypnotic massage. “You’ve had enough, piccola.”

  He cuddled her close to his side and Mira hiccupped again. His hand moved to massage her nape, and she barely contained a purr of pleasure. The decadent shiver that followed was beyond her control. It had been too long since someone had touched her. Since she’d let anyone close enough to try. His deep chuckle flowed over her, smoother than the liquor floating through her veins. “Feel good, piccola?”

  The harsh wind rattled against the frosted windowpane and snapped Mira from her bliss. Reminded her why she needed to flee. This was not reality. Reality was outside in the bitter cold. Alone. She slipped her legs from under the blanket, frowning when her blue socks appeared.

  Kagan followed the direction of her gaze. “I took them off while you were … indisposed. Don’t worry. They’re under the window.” His lips twisted and he looked away. “You’re quite attached to those boots.”

  Mira shrugged, avoiding the underlying question. “Part of the uniform.”

  “Si, the uniform,” Kagan said. He finished off another glassful of liquor, and Mira glanced at the bourbon. How much had he guzzled? Half the bottle was gone. “Which uniform are you referring to, piccola? The one for kicking ass or the one for scaring people away? Oh, wait. They’re the same, aren’t they, Mira?”

  She glared and threw the blanket off. “Kicking ass is my job, Kagan. I’m fine.”

  “Right.” Kagan rolled the empty glass between his fingers, his expression unreadable. “You’re a regular people magnet.”

  Mira’s cheeks heated. His assessment struck too close to home. “You know what? Fuck you, Kagan.” She got up and stalked to the windows. “Who the hell are you to criticize me? Last time I checked, there wasn’t a line forming for your sparkling personality, either.”

  His harsh laugh rang loud. “Touché, piccola. We’re both stellar examples of why it’s best to stay alone.”

  “I’m perfectly happy with my life, and I don’t need you or anybody else screwing it up.” She swiped for her boots. Pain radiated down her arm, and she winced. Dammit! “I protect myself — ”

  Kagan’s restraining hand cut her short. She hadn’t heard him move, yet there he was, too close for her comfort. He swung her around to face him. His eyes blazed with fury. “You can protect yourself. Si, I know. The point you’re missing is you don’t have to anymore. Your protection is my job now.” He yanked her closer. His thighs brushed hers and his heat surrounded her. “And I always get the job done, piccola.”

  She struggled. “I told you I don’t want your protection.”

  “Basta!” His fingertips traced her shoulder. He encountered the searing heat of her mark and his breath hissed. She tried to wrench free, but he held tight. “You need me, Mira. Admit it.”

  She shook her head, twisting to free herself. His hand tangled in her hair, locking her gaze to his. “You need me for this.”

  His lips crushed hers and Mira whimpered. His fingers trailed from her cheek to her jaw line. His mouth followed suit, and she sucked in a needed breath. He tasted of rich bourbon and vanilla. He smelled of warm Mediterranean nights and sunbaked shores and home. “Let me inside, Mira.”

  He returned to trace the seam of her lips with his tongue, and she gave a defeated sigh, allowing him entry. How could she fight when every molecule screamed for his touch? Sensation flooded her like a tsunami. Mira moaned, fisting his hair and urging him closer. He pulled away and she whined in protest. “Show me you mean it, Mira.”

  She trembled. Her sexual forays were limited at best. What if he was disappointed? Discarded her like used trash? Like McClaine had?

  “Relax, piccola.” His thumb stroked her tremulous chin and his lips descended. This time, when his tongue danced with hers, she gave a tentative swish of her own. His delighted moan surprised and aroused her. He broke away long enough to give her all the reassurance she needed. “Si, carissima. More. I want more.”

  Her movements grew bolder with his encouragement, and soon her tongue soon dueled with his, her hands relaxing to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. Kagan lifted her higher against him. His hot, rigid shaft thrust against her core and she gasped. His lips trailed to her ear and he pressed forward. “Cristo, carissima! Feel what you do to me.”

  Mira clutched at his massive shoulders. His hands slid under her thighs, lifting them to wrap around his waist as he stood. He walked to the windows and set her on the ledge, all the while dusting kisses along her jaw. The contrast of Kagan’s heat to her front and the icy storm behind made her desire soar. Her tongue traced the corded tendon on the side of his neck, gathering the salty taste of his skin. His moan rumbled deep beneath her lips, fueling a sudden need for more. Kagan’s hand trailed up her torso, stopping below the swell of her breast. His other twined in her curls and tugged, allowing him full access to her throat. He nibbled her pulse point while his thumb brushed across her straining nipple. She bucked forward and he smiled against her neck. “So sensitive, carissima.”

  He grazed the taut peak again and Mira was lost. She arched backward and filled his palm with her needy flesh. Cool air rushed over her torso. Kagan had removed her shirt before she could protest. He pressed his lips to the racing pulse in her throat and released the clasp of her bra, sliding the straps down. She immediately released him, cinching her arms across her chest to keep the cups in place. Her head lowered and her attention remained steadfast on the floor. He clasped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “Let me see you, mio tesoro.”

  His lips returned to hers while he shrugged free of his own shirt. His golden skin mesmerized her as much as the fingers tracing the upper curve of her breasts. “Now we’re equal, carissima. Per favore, Mira.”

  She relaxed into his gentle touch and let the garment slip to the floor. Mira squeezed her eyes shut against the reaction she was sure would come. His hands fell away and silence ensued. Her worst fears were realized. He’d witnessed the sleaze left behind by her attacker and wanted no part of it. Mira shifted, uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny. Salty tears prickled behind her lowered lids. What scrap of pride she had left screamed for her to escape. But Kagan’s arms braced on either side of her prevented any retreat. Mira lifted wary eyes, hedging agai
nst the inevitable pain. Her violator had been right. Her body wasn’t up to snuff, her sexual charms non-existent.

  She didn’t find the expected disdain or judgment. Instead, she found a gaze filled with hunger and undisguised need. Rejection she could handle. Unleashed, rampant sexual hunger? Not so much. His passionate stare ignited the spark of her passion into a full-blown wildfire. Years of taunts and verbal abuse at the hands of her foster care rent-a-daddies faded to a distant murmur. Kagan’s fingers traced her collarbone, easing her into his touch. His voice was a calming lull to her skittish nerves. “Easy, carissima. Let me enjoy you.”

  He took his time to learn her shape. Kagan cupped and kneaded, his fingertips brushing atop the swollen peaks of her nipples. She arched into his gentle touch, submitting to his mastery. He took advantage, nibbling the sensitive column of her exposed neck. Her thighs squeezed tight round his waist as the wind outside howled. He captured a stiff nipple in the furnace of his mouth and suckled until she begged for mercy, continuing to torment the sensitive peak with gentle nips before soothing her flesh with his tongue.

  Mira dug her fingers deep into the silky crush of his hair and held fast. She panted as he moved to repeat the same torture on her other breast. He placed a kiss on her abdomen and she clutched at him, restless and hungry. Moisture pooled between her legs. “Kagan, I — ”

  His lips cut her off. He pulled her flush against him, causing her swollen nipples to rasp his chest with every move. He rotated his hips into her heated core, his kisses ferocious. “If want me to stop, tesoro, you must tell me now.”

  Mira gazed at him through dazed, heavy-lidded eyes. She wanted him more than anything, anyone in the world. Could she have him? His hand cupped her cheek before moving lower to caress her breasts, her quivering belly.

  His fingers traced inside the waistband of her jeans. “Don’t make me beg, carissima. You feel delizioso.”

  He rocked against her molten center, and Mira bowed her head. His mumbled endearments were her undoing. She gave a brief nod and pressed a shy kiss on his chest. It was all the encouragement Kagan needed. His hands cupped her ass and he lifted her off the ledge, moving them to the bedroom. Before she registered her new surroundings, Mira was tumbled down on a bed full of soft white sheets. Kagan followed, stretching out beside her. Mira ducked away, apprehension fueling a sudden glut of shyness. Kagan grasped her chin and allowed her no retreat. Poised above her, he braced his arms on either side of her and waited. “What will you have me do, Mira? Take you or leave you?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.” Her eyes met his, tears threatening to spill.

  He lowered his body to cover her with his warmth and kissed away the moisture on her cheeks. Her heart skipped. “Allow me to teach you, carissima.” She blinked up at him in confusion. Kagan smiled, settling against her with obvious pleasure. “Practice makes perfect, si?”

  At her tentative nod, Kagan gathered her close and rolled her atop him. His hand moved to unfasten the button of her jeans. “First lesson: too many clothes ruin the party.”

  He pulled her head to his for a mind-numbing kiss before rolling her to the side and making quick work of her remaining garments. He took the opportunity to suckle her breasts again before deftly tucking her beneath him once more. Her cheeks heated anew when his fingers stroked her abdomen to brush the curls covering her mound. Her stomach knotted and she tried to look away. His intent gaze held her fast. “Second lesson: there are no secrets between lovers.”

  He parted her slick folds and Mira squeezed her thighs shut, stilling his movements. Dark, repressed memories rushed in. Kagan frowned and cupped her cheek. “Piccola, tell me what’s wrong.”

  She shook her head and turned away, tears streaming unbidden down her cheeks. He removed his hand from between her thighs and gathered her close. “How badly did the bastardo hurt you, Mira?”

  She met his concerned, angry stare head-on, but couldn’t bring herself to answer. Not now. Not when everything she’d ever wanted was within her grasp and now so dangerously close to slipping away. Kagan’s eyes blazed. “Tell me, Mira.”

  Mira tried to sit up. His body kept her locked in place. “I told you I wasn’t good at this.”

  “No, piccola, you are perfect. It’s that pompinara McClaine who’s wrong. I’ll kill him for what he’s done to you. And I’ll make sure he suffers before he dies. You have my word.”

  In all her twenty-eight years, no one had ever made even the slightest remark about avenging her honor. That this man, this fierce warrior who slew demons yet held her so gently, would do so now, shattered what remained of her feeble defenses. The floodgates opened. He held her while she cried, stroking her hair until her breathing slowed. She snuggled closer when the air chilled her skin. His hands slid around her waist and he rolled to the side, spooning her. The heat of his erection pulsed against the small of her back, and she found it oddly comforting.

  Mira yawned. Kagan shut off the light and pulled the covers over them. He tucked his chin on the top of her head and she couldn’t resist a final question, her voice quiet, drowsy. “What about lesson three?”

  His contented laugh rumbled and his answering whisper was gravel-rough beside her ear. Her weary heart swelled with possibilities. “Lesson three? Never rush fate.”

  • • •

  “Mind explaining what the hell’s going on?” Xander stopped behind the petite woman at the window. She didn’t respond. He was in no mood for games. “Did you hear me, Divinity?”

  “Watch your tone, Scion.” Divinity spun toward him, her expression cold, imperious. “Remember to whom you speak.”

  Xander lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Better.” Divinity brushed past him. “Why are you so irate?”

  “Something happened tonight. At the nightclub.” He followed a few steps behind her. “The Seal’s powers are manifesting.”

  Divinity spun to face him, intrigued. She leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed her arms. “Go on.”

  “The Seal controlled the crowd, dominated them.” Xander recalled the scene he’d left and his hackles rose. “I don’t understand it. All the research said the host had to be dead for the powers to manifest.”

  “Where’s Argus?” Divinity’s intense gaze pinned him to the spot.

  “Don’t know. We’ve got a lead on where he’s staying, but I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet.”

  “He won’t go far. He’s under deadline.” Divinity said, turning to fiddle with the houseplant beside her.

  “Deadline?”

  She didn’t answer, the hesitation of her fingers over the leaves of the plant the only indication she’d heard him. When she looked up at him again, her expression changed from concern to impatience. “Is there something else you need?”

  “Why wasn’t I affected by the Seal?”

  Divinity regarded him, a trace of a smile ghosting her lips. “You’re … special, Xander.”

  “Special?” She made him sound like he needed the short bus. Xander was not amused.

  “Don’t you have work to do?” She pushed past him and out into the foyer.

  “What about the girl? Zoe? Is she special too?”

  He barely had time to register Divinity’s scowl before she dismissed him, flashing him back to Wyck’s apartment in the span of a millisecond.

  • • •

  Mira woke, her heart racing, surrounded by darkness. Then she felt the warmth snuggled against her back, the beefy arm locked tight around her waist, and the fingers rubbing lazy circles on her skin. Shit! Heat flooded her cheeks at her nakedness under the sheets combined with memories of the previous night’s foreplay. Mira and foreplay — those were two words she never expected to hear together.

  Kagan’s warm breath fanned her nape, his breathing deep and even. Good. If he was
asleep, she might be able to escape. She inched away. His arm tightened. Damn.

  “Going somewhere, piccola?”

  Fuck. She shook her head.

  He leaned up on an elbow and gazed down at her. His fingers stroked the hair from her face, and he nibbled her ear. “We have more lessons.”

  Kagan covered her body with his. Mira shivered despite the heat, apprehension rearing its ugly head once more, making her voice quiver. “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea.”

  His lips silenced her protest. Several seconds and a few wanton moans from Mira later, he relented. “I can help you, carissima. Please, let me.”

  Mira doubted anyone could help her. She’d been broken too long. He lowered his head and kissed her again. Hope grew tiny wings and took flight. Did he care enough to try? Would she let him? Drawing up all the courage she could muster, Mira forged ahead. She would have him, at least for tonight.

  She plunged her fingers into his hair, kept his lips locked to hers. His hands drifted lower to her breasts and hips. He caressed her inner thighs, and his hand came to rest against the curls between. Her body quivered.

  “Open for me, carissima.” Her muscles relaxed beneath his questing touch, and he parted her tender core. Kagan slipped one long digit inside her slick walls, and she gasped. “Bellisima, tesoro. You’re drenched.”

  Kagan spread the moisture from her weeping entrance upward to her most sensitive spot, and Mira’s hips rocked to meet his palm. She thrust against Kagan’s ministrations, her arousal building. He suckled her engorged nipples and ground his straining member against her thigh. Mira groaned, her eyes pressed closed. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

  He placed a kiss on her pelvis and spread her thighs wider. Mira lay totally exposed. Kagan leaned forward, inhaling the scent of her arousal. His breath fanned the dampness pooled there, and she shivered. He traced his tongue to her moist center and smiled when her hands dug into his shoulders. “Kagan! No, wait, please … ah, Kagan!”