Master of the Moon

by Angela Knight

  God help her, she could feel herself going wet between her legs. Responding. Politically correct or no, his dominant pose turned her on. Licking her lips, she stepped out of her shorts and stood naked.

  He might be possessed by some magical dragon spirit, but she didn’t care. It was as if somehow the animal in him called to the animal in her.

  And her wolf was more than ready for whatever his dragon wanted to do.

  When he pushed her back onto the carpet, she went willingly. Her gaze flicked from the wild heat in his eyes to the hungry jut of his cock.

  Licking her lips, she reached for him.

  Llyr knew now how Diana must feel in her Burning Moon. Though Cachamwri had escaped him, the Dragon God left fire in its wake, shredding the careful control Llyr usually put on his own emotions. Now he kept remembering the moment when Diana went down under that bottle—and, what it felt like to thrust into her wet silk heat.

  He had to have her.

  When her small, cool hand closed over his cock, he tossed his head back and groaned. Her grip was pure, raw pleasure. “I won’t be able to hold on if you do that,” he gasped.

  Diana’s smile was slow and wicked. “Then don’t.”

  For a moment he was tempted, but something in him growled an objection. This time he wanted to be in control, and he wanted her to know it. He grabbed her hand and pulled it gently from his cock, then caught the other wrist for good measure.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. Judging by her grin, she had a pretty good idea.

  “What does it look like?” He pulled her wrists over her head and pinned them to the floor as he settled himself more firmly between her thighs. The pose thrust her small, soft breasts upward until their tight little peaks pressed into his chest. Unbearably tempted, he transferred both captive wrists to one hand and twisted down to have his way with the tempting little berries.

  She gasped as he sampled one, sucking greedily. “You do know there’s no way you can really hold me?”

  Llyr looked up and gave her his best dark grin. “Oh, I can hold you. Besides, you really don’t want to get free.” Tilting his head, he flicked the tip of his tongue over her nipple. “Do you?”

  “No,” she gasped. “Guess I don’t, at that.”

  He cupped one breast so that her nipple jutted even more for his mouth, then gave it a slow rake with his teeth. She shivered under him, bending her legs so her silken calves caressed his legs.

  Dragon’s Breath, he loved this. Loved the way she felt under him, so deceptively slim and feminine. He might be stronger than she was at this moment, but in a breath she could transform. If she submitted to him, it was because she wanted to.

  The thought made him want to reward her—and slow the pace just a bit. He levered off her, still keeping one hand on her wrists just as a reminder that he was definitely in control. When he sought out her mouth, she opened to him in welcome, her lips sweet and damp against his. She tasted of the orange she’d just eaten.

  Llyr entered with a mating thrust of his tongue, and she swirled her own around it. Deliciously seduced, he drew his tongue back, intending to nibble her lower lip. She slicked her own into his mouth instead. They dueled with thrusting tongues as he sought her breast to tease its hard nipple. She caught her breath in a maddening little moan.

  Llyr lifted his head and looked down at her, panting. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so aroused, and knew it was only in part because of Cachamwri.

  The rest was all Diana. His sweet, hot little werewolf.

  Some sane part of him knew there were good reasons he couldn’t keep her, but the rest didn’t give a unicorn’s egg. She was his. He could feel it on some deep level beyond reason or kingship or anything else. And he intended to make sure she knew it.

  Llyr pressed a tiny, biting kiss to her stubborn chin, then started working his way downward, pausing to nibble at the satin skin of her throat before continuing on his way. She writhed under him, gasping, but he tightened his grip on her wrists and threw her a molten glance. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  God, who wanted to? Diana groaned and rolled her face against her lifted arm. Instinctively, she tugged at her wrists, wanting to touch him, but she couldn’t pull free of his hands. He was a hell of a lot stronger than a human male; she’d probably have to transform into the Dire Wolf to break his grip. And she had no intention whatsoever of doing that. She liked it just where she was.

  Apparently the wolf part of her loved being pinned under him, though she’d always hated it anytime anybody else had tried it.

  But too much thinking about why that was would probably spoil the delicious mood, so instead she simply lay back and enjoyed it. And there was a great deal to enjoy, because Llyr knew his way around a woman’s body better than any man she’d ever met.

  He was going after her nipples again, his tongue swirling a hot dance over each before he settled in for a deep, drawing suckle. Just when he was seriously in danger of driving her out of her mind, he’d bite down, ever so delicately.

  Oh, yeah. He was definitely good at that.

  Meanwhile his free hand was busy, stroking its way down the length of her body, pausing here to caress the delicate flesh of her ribs, there to circle his fingertips over her hip. When she felt him start exploring his way across her belly, she tensed in erotic expectation. When he levered his hips off hers, she caught her breath.

  The sword calluses on his fingers felt just slightly rough as he slid his hand between their bodies. He lifted his head to look down into her face, and she drowned for a while in dancing opalescent flecks while he teased his fingertips through the soft hair between her thighs. He traced one finger over the seam between her nether lips, and she caught her breath in anticipation.

  Then, with a dark smile, he sent his hand questing down to her thigh.

  “Tease!” she gasped in outrage.

  He grinned. “Oh, yes.”

  “I’m going to get you back for that.”

  “Not at the moment.” He stroked the thin flesh high on her leg until she squirmed in frustrated lust and gave serious thought to raping him.

  Then, without warning, he cupped her sex and sent his middle finger spearing right up into her slick core. Diana gasped, throwing her head back at the delicious sensation.

  “Like that?” he breathed against her mouth.

  “Ever been raped by a werewolf?” she wheezed.

  “Now, that’s no way to talk to the man on top.” He stroked out, added a second finger, and thrust both of them back inside. She arched, catching her breath as pleasure coiled up her spine in long, hot streamers.

  “I like the way you do that,” Llyr purred in her ear. “Do it again.” He added a third finger and slowly pumped.

  Sensing he was distracted, she twisted her wrists free of his light hold, grabbed him by the shoulders, and rolled over with him, landing astride his narrow hips. She smirked down into his surprised face. “That’s much better.”

  Pale Sidhe eyes narrowed. “I think not.”

  Strong hands shot for her ribs, long fingers digging in a ruthless tickle. She shrieked out a laugh and fell backward. He pounced, shifted his grip to her hips, and angled her sex upward. Before she could even catch a breath, he speared his thick cock inside.

  Diana gasped at the mind-blowing sensation of being filled so ruthlessly. Kneeling, her legs draped over his muscled forearms, he dragged her up his shaft, forcing his way in up to the balls. He gave her a feral grin. “Now that is better.”

  “You are not a nice man,” she whimpered.

  He considered the question, pulling out slowly. “No.” He shoved in hard. “I don’t think I am.”

  Diana grinned. “I never liked nice men anyway.” Bucking her hips, she rolled her head at the sensation of his thick shaft grinding inside her.

  Llyr straightened his knees and tightened his grip on her legs, pulling her backside off the bed and angling her body upward until only he
r head and shoulders were on the mattress. When he began thrusting, the angle made him feel like a baseball bat. She slapped her hands down to steady herself. “God, Llyr! That’s deep!”

  He grinned. “I know.” Absolutely merciless, he began grinding hard between her helplessly spread legs. Diana sucked in a breath, fingers curling into claws in the sheets as the massive cock probed her slick flesh.

  Each time he thrust, his pelvis rolled against her clit, sending shockwaves of hot delight over her body. Diana could feel the climax gathering like a firestorm ready to break. She bucked against him, maddened at the tantalizing delight just beyond her fingertips. “Llyr!”

  Llyr gave her a feral smile. “Want something, love?”

  “Yeah! Oh, God!”

  “Beg.” Thrust.

  “Ah! Please!”

  “Not good enough.” He stopped, his cock only halfway inside.

  She tried to buck deeper onto his shaft, but he held her effortlessly still. “Dammit, Llyr!”

  “No.”

  “Let me come! Please!”

  “Aahhh,” he purred. “Very pretty. And here you are.” He jerked her right up his cock, seating himself deep. Circling his hips, he corkscrewed the big shaft up inside her, grinding skillfully over her clit.

  Her orgasm broke free like a blazing balloon. Diana screamed, writhing hard into him.

  “Yes,” he shouted, and threw back his head, the cords standing in hard relief on the side of his neck as he spilled himself deep inside her.

  Until finally he fell forward, dropping her on the mattress an instant before he collapsed over her, panting and spent. Diana, gasping, could only curl her arms and legs around him and hold on as they fought to breathe, dizzy from the force of their mutual detonation.

  An hour later, Diana sat on her bed with the television turned down to the lowest volume even she could hear. Even so, she could clearly make out the grunts and thumps from the living room as Llyr doggedly continued his efforts to call Cachamwri.

  She hoped to heck he had better luck this time. Whenever she remembered how close he’d come when she’d interrupted and ruined it, she wanted to bite herself.

  Even in her irritation, though, she had to grin. What came afterward had almost been worth the guilt. Though whether she’d think so when Llyr went back to his people was another question.

  Frowning, Diana thumbed the remote and clicked restlessly past two game shows, several reruns, and an endless round of cable news programs, all covering the same story from different political slants. She hit on a History Channel program on one of the more bloodthirsty medieval kings and settled down to watch.

  Llyr was getting to her. Which should not have come as a surprise, she supposed. The man was gorgeous, brilliant, dedicated to his people, and fantastic in the sack. Anybody would be smitten, particularly somebody without enough sense to come in out of the rain. Which apparently described her, because it was for damn sure that a romance between a werewolf and the King of the Fairies was doomed from the start.

  She ought to be ashamed of herself. She’d grown up about as far as it was possible to get from magical royalty. Aside from the werewolf thing, the London family was solidly middle-class with occasional flashes of redneck. Her dad, Andrew London, was a Vietnam vet turned mailman, as well as a descendent of a long line of werewolves. Her mother was a high school art teacher with a ruthless willingness to bully those she loved into doing what was best for them. Diana often thought she’d inherited her taste for running cities from Marly London. Both her father and her brother, Jim, swore that was definitely where she’d gotten her bossy streak.

  But even Marly, at her most ambitious, never dreamed higher for her daughter than becoming a lawyer. What the hell was Diana doing, setting her cap for the King of the Fairies?

  This was not going to end well.

  The preacher was working toward the fiery crescendo of his evening sermon, but Mayor Don Thompson scarcely noticed. He had weighty matters on his mind, and besides, this was his second Sunday service of the day.

  However, Don also knew his constituents expected to see him occupying a pew every time the First Baptist Church of Verdaville opened its doors, and he always made sure he was.

  Unfortunately, all the churchgoing in the world wouldn’t save him from the political firestorm he currently faced. Not with a serial killer stalking the streets of Verdaville.

  If, that is, it was a serial killer. Don wasn’t convinced. It wasn’t like there had been a letter from the killer claiming responsibility for those murders.

  Anyway, he dearly wished Diana had kept her mouth shut instead of running to the media with a press release warning men to avoid picking up women in Verdaville, for God’s sake. Which was a thoroughly ridiculous idea to begin with. First, it made it sound like the town was infested with prostitutes, which sent all the churchgoing ladies into a tizzy. And second, everybody knew no woman could have done the kind of damage the victims suffered. Women just weren’t wired that way.

  Don had to admit, he was surprised and disappointed by this turn of events. Diana had done a good job running Verdaville up ’til now, including digging them out of that little financial hole they’d run into three years ago after they’d bought the new City Hall property. They hadn’t had to raise taxes in a couple of years, which was always good news. But this killer business…

  People around him suddenly stood up, and Don jolted out of his preoccupation to labor to his feet and belt out a couple of stanzas of “That Old Rugged Cross” in his best baritone.

  He went back to worrying over the killer issue while his wife gathered up her purse and they started working their way out into the aisle.

  “Mayor! Mayor, do you know what that city manager of yours did?” Clara Davies demanded from behind him. “She arrested my Roger! Arrested him! And that boyfriend of hers broke Roger’s nose! Why didn’t the police arrest him, I’d like to know?”

  He’d known this was coming. Don winced, then plastered a patiently attentive expression on his face as he turned. “Well now, Clara, they arrested Roger because he hit Miss London in the head with a beer bottle. The other man was just defending her.” The chief had already briefed him on last night’s debacle, knowing Clara went to First Baptist.

  Her hazel eyes narrowed. “That’s lies! Just pure lies! My Roger would never do such a thing. He and his friends were just talking in the parking lot when the police started harassing them. And that Diana London shouldn’t have been pretending to be a cop to begin with. If she’d been at home, like a decent woman, she wouldn’t have been hurt!”

  “Now, Clara, you know how shorthanded the department is.” Don carefully lengthened his drawl and broadened his smile. Nobody did good ol’ boy better than Donnie Thompson. “Miss London was just helping out. As a volunteer, I might add. I think it’s right public-minded of her.”

  “Public-minded? Who are you trying to fool, Don? What’s she doin’ running around in a city police car with a man? That ruffian blacked both Roger’s eyes and broke his nose!”

  “Was he blond?” a woman asked suddenly from Don’s elbow. “I wonder if it’s the same blond fella Terry was tellin’ me about.” Her eyes brightened with the pleasure of a woman sharing juicy gossip. Her voice dropped to a confidential whisper. “Terry’s in my Sunday School class, and she lives next door to the city manager. She told me the last couple of days, she’s seen saw Diana going in and out of her house with this man with a long blond ponytail. Thought at first it was a girl until she got a better look. He’s obviously staying over there.”

  “Aw, now, I’m sure it’s not what it looks like…” Don began, silently cursing the city manager.

  “See! What’s she doin’ arrestin’ my Roger when she’s living in sin with some hippie?”

  “Clara, I don’t think they actually have hippies any more,” Don’s wife, Jenny, pointed out. Don shot her a hard look, and she quickly shut up.

  “The council ought to fire that girl!” Clara rage
d. “What kind of example is she settin’ for the young people of Verdaville? Shacking up with some man and running around pretending to be a cop, harassing innocent boys? I always said, women have no business being in positions of authority! They can’t handle it.”

  To Don’s disgust, a number of people had turned to listen to her rant. Now they were nodding in agreement. By tomorrow, the whole town would know Diana was screwing some long-haired civilian she let ride around in her patrol car.

  Perfect. As if he didn’t have enough to deal with.

  “Well, rest assured I’ll investigate this situation,” Don said, narrowing his eyes to project stern determination. “If there’s a problem, I’ll deal with it.”

  Clara nodded, satisfied. “Good. You should fire her. She deserves it, the little tramp.”

  He gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded. “As I said, I’ll look into it.”

  It was beginning to sound like Diana London was becoming a political liability.

  Diana scanned the shops and businesses that lined Main Street, looking for any movement beyond the darkened plate glass windows that would indicate a burglary in progress.

  Llyr was conspicuously quiet on his side of the car. Probably still brooding about his failed attempt to summon his dragon. He’d taken two more shots at it after they’d made love, but he’d had no luck. She wished his mental logjam would break. They could use a little magic right about now.

  Reaching down, Diana adjusted the volume on the patrol car’s radio. She’d called the chief before they’d left for their patrol. Gist had told her there’d been no attacks last night.

  Which made it all the more likely the vampire would strike tonight. Assuming they simply hadn’t found the body yet.

  Diana drummed her fingers on the wheel, wondering again if she was doing the right thing by dragging Llyr all over town on this vampire hunt. Ideally, she should be home with him, making sure he didn’t get himself killed before his powers came back.

  And if she’d been able to get in touch with Jim, she’d probably be doing just that. But she’d been unable to reach her brother on either his home phone or his cell. Diana had an ugly feeling he’d taken off for one of his weekend jaunts in the deep woods before his show. Dammit, she should have fessed up to him earlier.