by May Dawson
He kissed me, his lips caressing mine open. When my lips parted, the tip of his tongue darted over the inside of my lip. The heat of his mouth against mine wrenched an unexpected moan from me.
His hand brushed over the curve of my side. I wanted him between my thighs, but there was far too much sleek red fabric between us both. I struggled to sit up, even though it was hard to pull myself away from him.
“I changed my mind,” I said. “I don’t like the dress.”
His lips tilted. “All right. Let’s get the damn thing off you, then.”
Just for a second, I could imagine Truby turning away if he was watching us somehow. I could imagine us from a distance as Tristan undressed me, as I stepped out of the pool of satiny fabric.
No matter how expensive it was, it was soft and slippery underfoot when I stepped on it in my hurry to get back to Tristan.
Tristan slipped his wallet out of his trousers and pulled out a condom before tossing it on the bed.
“I worry about you,” I said, raising my eyebrows.
“I’m a Hunter,” he said, his lips quirking.
I traced my fingernails along the buttons down the front of his dress shirt. “What does that mean?”
“It used to mean that I’d have sex with any beautiful woman who wanted me if the mood struck,” he said.
I knew from the way women looked at him at the academy that there had been plenty of those.
“Definitely going to need that condom,” I muttered.
He didn’t look offended.
“Academy-tested, guaranteed-clean,” he said, as if he were running an infomercial for Hunter sex. “And maybe, despite that, right now I can imagine wanting only one woman.”
I popped my hands onto my hips. “Well. Does she know where you are?”
“Why are you like this?” His smile was full of affection.
“Broken, probably.” My voice was glib, and I flashed him a mischievous smile as I began to unbutton his shirt. “But still fun.”
He rested his hand over mine, stilling my fingers. “Not broken. Cracked, maybe.”
His voice had gone serious.
“I guess time will tell,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was capable of being a whole, healthy person in the future.
I mean, at that very moment of time, I was suspicious that my evil-witch-dad might be spying on us, and it was not remotely a deterrent to fucking Tristan Dane.
In fact, if it made Truby squirm away from watching us, it was a positive.
But none of that screamed healthy.
“I guess it will.” His hand, still pinning my fingers to my chest, captured mine, and he drew it to his lips. He kissed the inside of my palm, his gaze still steady on mine. The feel of his lips on that small erogenous zone made my breath hitch.
I could tell from the way Tristan touched me that he would make this slow, would make this good.
But I didn’t want slow and gentle.
I wanted to be in control of one damn thing in this ridiculous life of mine.
I pulled my hand out of his grip and shoved him down on the bed.
Tristan let himself fall. He looked up at me with his eyebrows arched, but the same faint smile on his lips. He looked at me as if there was nothing I could ever do that would throw him for a loop, that would change things between us.
That couldn’t be true.
But the comfort in that thought still took my breath away.
I straddled him, my knees on either side of his athletic thighs. When I unbuckled his belt and yanked his trousers down, dragging his boxer briefs with them, his cock rose thick and straight above his taut lower abs.
I rubbed my thumb across his tip, fingering the loose skin there, and the amused look on his face fell away. His lips parted, but his gaze never left mine.
I watched his face as I leaned down, brushing the tip of my tongue over that skin, and I heard his breath give. Seeing Tristan, who was always so cool, overtaken by desire created an answering throb between my thighs.
“I’ve never done this before,” I warned him, before I ran my tongue around his tip.
“I’m not in a critical mood,” he managed, which made me grin.
His taut lower abs rippled as I ran my tongue up and down his shift. Then I drew him into my mouth. I kept watching him as I shifted my body low over his legs so I could move my mouth up and down his shaft, pausing to tweak his tip with my tongue. He seemed to like that from the way he bit his lower lip.
I kept going. The ache between my thighs flared hotter as I watched his breath give, his lashes flutter closed.
“Deidra,” he said in warning. “I’m losing it—”
I didn’t care. I flashed him a look that I hoped communicated just that, and he threw back his head, groaning. His cock twitched in my mouth as he tensed, his leanly muscled chest heaving as he came. Salty, thick heat filled my mouth, and I froze, uncertain for a second what the hell to do.
I covered my lips with my hand as I came off his cock, swallowing hurriedly so I wouldn’t make a mess.
“Yet another thing where you’ve got a natural gift,” he muttered. He caught my arm and drew me up to him, and I pressed my lips to his. His lips felt pleasantly cool after the heat of my mouth on his body.
Satisfaction that I could take this cool, self-possessed man and make him shatter with lust rolled over me. My lips quirked against his as we kissed.
His hand slipped between us, cupping me through my panties. When his thumb stroked over the thin fabric, I wondered if he could feel how wet I was. I was so hot from taking control of him.
His fingers teased over me again and again, and I groaned into his mouth, my hips pushing forward against his hand as if I needed more.
“Take these off,” he commanded, his voice husky. “If I do it, they may not survive.”
I rose to my knees to slip the panties off, then watched him as I reached back to unbuckle my strapless bra. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and then the bra fell at my knees, and his eyes widened in pleasure as he took in my breasts.
“Come here,” he said, cupping my hips with his hands as he pulled me to straddle him again. “I want to watch you ride me.”
With expert hands, he ripped open the condom package and rolled it over his cock. I liked just watching the way he moved, with his big shoulders and his leanly muscled frame, his muscles rippling with the smallest movement. My gaze fell to his cock, rising above those chiseled abs, and my thighs tightened all over again. I wanted him so badly.
When I teased over his tip, trying to take control of him again, he rolled his hips up. I gasped as he entered me, filling me up completely, satisfying the ache I’d felt. The faintest smile came to his lips—as if he’d known we were in a battle for control—but I was suddenly willing to let him take the lead.
His hands on my hips guided my motion as the two of us moved together. I rolled my hips forward, feeling the width of the base of his cock massage my clit with every movement. Every circuit we made together made the heat between my thighs flare hotter, and I bit my lower lip, gazing down at him.
He still watched me with hungry eyes, and I could almost see myself the way he saw me, with my teeth indenting my round lower lip, my dark hair streaming over my shoulders, the heaviness of my breasts bouncing as I rode him.
The way Tristan looked at me might be addictive.
As the two of us moved together, it felt like we synchronized, our bodies moving in time to give each other pleasure. His hands tightened on my waist as he came nearer to orgasm. Each finger on my ass felt hot and individual, like a brand pressing into my skin, and yet I just wanted him to grip me harder, to fuck me harder, to want me harder.
As if he knew what I was thinking, he rolled the two of us over suddenly. One second, I was above him, and the next I was pinned below.
His powerful arms braced to either side of my shoulders as he pushed inside me, deeper, harder, faster, fucking me as my fingers curled into his shoulders. The two of us moved
together with breathless pants as my thighs wrapped around his lean waist, my muscles tightening with every jolt of pleasure through my body.
A tingling wave washed through my body, building hotter and hotter, and my fingernails dug into his shoulders. I bit my lower lip as the wave grew intense. My toes curled, and I threw back my head, my back arching. My hard nipples brushed across Tristan’s chest.
The lavish room around me fell away, and there was nothing but my body and Tristan’s moving in time as pleasure washed over me.
Then I felt him come inside me before he collapsed on top of me. His chin rested on top of my head as he wrapped me up in strong arms.
We should get up, get dressed, get ready for whatever came at us next.
But when I lay in his arms, sated and comfortable, the constant sense that I had to be ready to fight faded away.
I didn’t know if I should be afraid of that. It was my fight that had kept me alive so far.
But for now, I traced my fingertips over the hard planes of his back, over the half-moon shape where my nails had dug into his broad shoulders, and I let myself feel safe.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tristan
The next morning brought delivery of new clothes to our room by some of Truby’s men, along with a warning to be ready soon for breakfast.
“Part of me is skeptical about eating anything in a witch’s house,” I said, “and part of me…”
My stomach growled. I’d been too distracted by Deidra to eat dinner the night before.
“Why would Truby bother to poison us?” Deidra asked lightly. She stood with her back to me as she pulled her shirt on over her head. The early morning sunlight shone across her shiny, dark hair and outlined the lean curves of her body. She was so gorgeous and she didn’t even know it. “He could kill us without any extra effort.”
“I think what I love most about you is your optimism,” I said, and she paused, a faint smile on her lips, before she sat on the edge of the bed to pull on her jeans. The sense of having just revealed too much tightened my stomach, but I decided to let it go.
Breakfast with Truby was in the sun room off his kitchen. The men who had come to our room and cautiously dropped off clothes seemed to have gone, but I wasn’t sure I believed that we were alone with the witch.
Truby poured us both coffee as we took seats around the well-stocked, sun-soaked table.
“I’d tell you that I made the coffee cake,” he said, “but baking is one sphere of magic I’ve never mastered.”
I was just taking a sip of hot coffee when Deidra asked him, “So what did you do last night?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “I read in my study, then went to bed early.”
“Really? I thought witches kept late hours. Stirring their cauldrons or talking to bats or bleeding children, whatever it is that you do for fun.”
“I had to get some rest to be able to keep up with you, daughter.” There was a glint of amusement in his green eyes.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” she said.
“I know, but I would like for you to become accustomed to the idea.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
“We’ll see.”
Truby turned his gaze on me. We sat so close that I could see the lines at the corner of his eyes. I never thought I’d be so close to him without burying a blade in his chest.
But Truby had proven to be hard to kill. I would need a weapon and a plan. We were this close; the rest was just a matter of time.
“So what are your intentions with my daughter?” he asked, an edge of amusement in his voice.
“I don’t think I can have intentions when neither of us is sure we’ll survive the week.”
He leaned back in his chair, his hand going over his heart. “You don’t have anything to fear from me.”
Sure.
“I only have one heir,” he said, his eyes sparkling as he looked to Deidra, “and I don’t intend to kill anyone else that would put me in her bad graces.”
Deidra snorted at that anyone else. “A little late.”
“I had to get my revenge for what Liam did to my family,” Truby said sharply.
“I thought you hated them,” she said, her eyebrows rising.
I glanced at her, my face schooled, wondering when she learned so much about him.
“Not my parents,” he said impatiently. “My coven. My first coven.”
His voice softened on the words. He went on, “Your mother didn’t have a natural gift for magic—you get that from me—but she dabbled. Once, we were driving together and came across a dog struck in the road. There was a little boy there crying. She pretended that he was only unconscious, and the two of us brought him back.”
There was a warm gleam in his eye.
“If she was so lovely,” Deidra asked, “how did you become such a monster?”
“Don’t call me a monster,” he warned. “That’s what your grandparents said.”
Deidra cocked her head to one side, and no matter how cool she was, a glimmer of hope shone from her eyes when she asked, “Are they alive or…”
“Dead,” he said.
“Were you the one who killed them?”
He met her gaze evenly. “Maybe I had no choice.”
“Maybe.” She wiped her lips with her napkin, then twisted it in her hand once she returned it to her lap.
God, she wanted so badly to have a family. I hadn’t seen it before, and now it worried me. Deidra had to pretend to soften to him, but I worried she really would soften.
The three of us did our best to make small talk, then Truby said, “I’d like to introduce you to some members of my coven.”
“Am I invited?” I pushed back from my chair and stood, ambling across the expansive kitchen to look out over the driveway. There were half-a-dozen cars parked outside. I doubted they were all his.
We were not alone. That was going to make it that much harder to end Truby.
I glanced at the knife block by the stove. It was empty. There wasn’t so much as a steak knife left.
“If Deidra insists,” he said, following me into the kitchen. “I’ll tolerate a Hunter as much as I must for her sake.”
There was a cool edge of warning in his voice. If he thought he could get away with it, he’d already have gutted me.
It was strange to think that my fierce girl was his weakness.
“Funny,” I said, looking back at him. “I’ll tolerate a witch as much as I must, for her sake.”
Let him think that Deidra had come to him because she wanted to know her father, and that I was along for the ride.
Truby led us into his basement, which was surprisingly full of light, with high ceilings and rich inlaid hardwood floors. There was an altar, empty now, and unlit candelabras lined the room.
“There’s a disturbing lack of cauldrons,” Deidra said.
He smiled at that, then pushed open a door and held it open for us. “This is the spirit room. I’d like you to meet some people.”
A few witches rose when we entered—two women and a man. The scent of burnt herbs smoldered in the air. This room was dark, lit by candles, and one woman held a golden pitcher in both hands.
“I know you think the covens are all darkness, Deidra, but in here, we bring people closure on the loved ones they’ve lost,” Truby said gently.
“Really?” she asked breezily. “Then how come you didn’t find closure yourself instead of sending monsters to rip my uncle’s throat out?”
She began lightly, but by the time she finished, the angry edge in her voice was clear.
“Ripping your uncle’s throat out was my closure,” he said, his eyes narrowing at her. They almost looked alike in a moment like this, when their green eyes flashed furiously.
“Awkward,” I mouthed at the silent witches, but of course they stood with their gazes averted. Witches are more obedient than Hunters.
“I know you won’t lower yourself to asking me for a
favor,” he said finally, his voice cooler than it had been. “But I did ask them to prepare for you. If you would like to journey to see your uncle.”
Her breath quickened at the offer, but she crossed her arms, staring at him in challenge.
“How does she know it’s not a trick?” I demanded.
“There are some tricks that even witches can’t fake,” he said impatiently. “Surely, Deidra, you and your uncle share some secret that you can use to verify you’re really talking to him.”
“Maybe you could use my own mind against me,” she said calmly.
“Maybe, maybe.” Truby waved his hand impatiently. “It’s up to you. I thought it might give you some of the peace you desperately seem to need.”
“If you want to give me peace, why don’t you show me how to raise your monsters?” she shot back.
“Maybe we can do that this afternoon,” he said, smiling at her thinly. “If that’s what you want.”
“I think it is,” she said.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well? Are you going to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity or just continue to whine at me?”
“It isn’t really a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity if I am your ‘heir’, is it?” she demanded.
“We both know your plan is to wait for my moment of weakness and then stab me with the first pointy thing you can find,” he said. His lips twisted in satisfaction at whatever he saw on our faces in response. “But I hope that I’ll change your mind about me before you get your hands on a knife.”
“Maybe I’ll just bring the house down and kill us all,” she said, her jaw tight.
“Maybe you will,” he shot back. “But first, I wish you’d talk to Liam.”
“Why would you want me to talk to Liam?” she demanded.
“I want you to ask him about your little sister.”
His words were smooth, flat, calm as ever. But they hit me with the force of a tidal wave.
Deidra stared at him, her jaw tightening. “What?”
“Well, half-sister,” Truby corrected.
Her brows rose, and I could tell she was fighting to be cool when she said, “I’d know if I had a sister.”