“How about The G Spot? It’s close.” Mira stood up too.
“You sure you want to return after what happened the other night?” Kagan asked, his tone concerned.
Mira shrugged. “Have to go sometime, right? Plus, I can get us in free.”
• • •
Mira’s pulse throbbed in time to the techno-dance music pouring over the gyrating bodies on the crowded dance floor. It was Ladies’ Night, and the gorgeous warriors surrounding her and Zoe soon became the most popular guys in the room. Women skirted their group, the massive Scions’ muscled physiques and sexy smiles drawing them in like gnats to a bug zapper — much to the chagrin of the other males present.
Chago got his groove on after a couple of stiff drinks and hooked up with a blonde who gave him a personal lap dance in the far corner. Wyck chose a fiery redhead with a seductive smile to shower with his ample affections while Kagan continued to hover too protectively for Mira’s taste.
She attempted to duck away at every opportunity, craving space. Those looks he kept giving her smacked of possessiveness. After the escapade in Wyck’s bathroom, she needed time and distance to figure out where this thing with Kagan was headed, to decide if she wanted to take the trip. He seemed determined to remain in her face no matter which way she turned. Escape proved impossible, so she went for avoidance instead. Heat flared in her mark, but she pushed it out of her mind. Tonight she wanted to forget.
Her gaze fell on Xander, who turned out to be a pretty smooth criminal on the dance floor. His focus remained tethered to her best friend while Zoe continued to ignore him. Interesting. Mira smiled and spun toward the DJ booth when a new tune started, bypassing Kagan’s frustrated, judgmental scowl. She spied Wyck and Chago with their respective partners, getting down and dirty. Seems the Scion were two-for-four tonight. Not the best odds.
• • •
Xander maneuvered to the bar and ordered a beer from the well-endowed blonde behind the counter. The white bandage on one side of her head glowed beneath the neon lights. Kagan had told him about the attack. The woman seemed to have no residual effects, proving once again humans were quite resilient. He glanced at the wall clock. The long day was fast becoming an even longer night. His energy boost from earlier had drained faster than a newly snaked tub. Now he was on guard, his inner warrior raging. Why had he agreed to this?
While he waited for his order, he scanned the crowded dance floor and glimpsed Zoe, with her glossy dark hair and red sweater, twirling near the center. Xander grabbed his bottle and tipped the bartender without a glance. The brunette set his radar on high alert, and he’d yet to figure out why. She was hardly a threat and about as far from his type as a woman could get. He preferred them warm, willing, and ready. Zoe was cold, distant, and unavailable. Yet his attention continued to drift in her direction, dwelling on the gentle sway of her hips and the way his nerves zinged with awareness long after their brief contact at Wyck’s. He sipped his stout ale and pondered the dilemma.
She was a mystery, and he’d always loved a great puzzle. Wyck had never finished his sentence the day before. Zoe’s a powerful … something. Xander intended to find out exactly what something was. When he had more time. Maybe next century. Or more likely, never.
“You need a refill, honey?” The bartender’s voice purred over his shoulder, derailing his thoughts.
Xander twisted to confront an enormous set of breasts. His eyes dropped before he could stop himself. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”
“Yes, you are.” The blonde’s gaze roved in blatant invitation. “You decide different, sweetie, be sure and let me know, okay?”
He nodded and returned his attention to the crowded club. Mira and Zoe climbed atop a small platform to dance in front of the DJ booth. Xander checked the time again. Vai, it was becoming a long night indeed.
• • •
Mira surveyed the floor below her with a strange rush of increasing power. The music echoed through her chest, driving her body to respond to the frantic rhythm. Her heart rate kicked up a notch. A hard male body pressed against her from behind. She turned her head and met Kagan’s blue gaze. A flood of animalistic sexual frustration slashed her rational mind to shreds. She spun to face him, her hands gripping his T-shirt to pull him closer. Mira ground against him while her tongue lapped the thudding pulse at the base of his throat.
Tonight she didn’t feel broken. Tonight she wasn’t scared of her feelings or what Kagan would think of her. Tonight she felt only freedom. Freedom and lust for the man pressed tight to her. A frisson of warning skittered through her stomach. Mira pushed it aside. Another wave of heat, stronger than before, rose to sweep her away. Kagan’s hands clenched her hips and her mark seared white-hot. She’d never felt this powerful before.
• • •
Kagan gazed at Mira’s flushed face through eyes at half-mast. Hours before she wouldn’t acknowledge him. Now her gaze burned hot with passion. He swallowed hard. She ground against his thigh and nuzzled his neck. He’d wanted to get her in private tonight, discuss their relationship, this growing attraction. Try to reason out the mess of a situation between them. What he needed was space and distance to think. What he got was her hand thrust into the front of his jeans. She fisted his length, and coherent thought became nigh impossible. He stared into her fever-bright eyes and fought for control. Then her thumb traced the blunt head of his cock, and Kagan’s rational brain was officially shot to hell.
Mira grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled him to her for an open-mouthed kiss. Her tongue dueled with his. His fingers dug into her hip while his other hand clutched the hair at her nape. She slapped him away, thrust her own digits deep into his buzz-cut, her nails dragging against his scalp and forcing his head back. She took full advantage of the exposed flesh of his throat. Her hand released the heavy thickness of his shaft and loosened the top button on his fly. Kagan groaned, the urge to submit overwhelming. His shirt pulled free from his jeans and cold air swept over his abdomen. Her teeth grasped his sensitive lobe, and his thighs shook with the effort to maintain balance. Mira’s voice snarled hot in his ear. “Hit the floor, Scion.”
His cock jerked in response. Mira’s hand tugged the short hair at his nape and guided him to his knees. Helpless to resist, he leaned forward, his face pressed to her soft belly while she gyrated against him. A stray, unwelcome idea flickered through his mind. Wrong. Something was wrong. Her nails scraped over the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck and his worries were quickly forgotten. He grasped the hem of her shirt and dove beneath to caress her exposed skin. “Anything, carissima. Tell me what you need.”
“I want — I want — ” Mira’s voice faltered. She swayed, her thighs parting slightly.
His cheek rested against her molten core. The scent of her arousal buzzed inside him, swarming his senses. He placed a kiss above her waistband. “Cristo! I need you.”
Her hands pulled him closer and she arched against him, her head thrown back in ecstasy.
• • •
Xander’s warrior instincts went ballistic. His gaze narrowed on a crowd that would have made the Marquis de Sade proud. Half the dancers writhed beneath dominant partners. Others were being ridden like horses, belts wielded whip-like to smack crisp across exposed tender flesh. Still more were bound tight with their own clothing, being slapped and pinched, groped and prodded. By appearances, everyone was enjoying themselves immensely. Xander tracked the dominants to one central point. Mira.
She ruled the assembled crowd while wielding her power over the warrior at her feet. Xander choked on his beer. Pure pleasure filled Kagan’s face. The Seal’s mark glowed through the fabric of Mira’s top, its power surging. Mira ripped Kagan’s shirt open and left it to hang off his arms while he knelt before her. On cue, the crowd repeated the gesture. Soon, shredded garments scattered the floor. The activity spread to other areas as well
. Beside him, the busty bartender moaned and writhed beneath a guy on the counter. Even the DJ had joined in. Pinned to the wall by a patron, his expression was rapturous while his partner tore away his clothes.
Only one other person remained unaffected by the madness. Lost in her own world, Zoe twirled alone in a corner of the platform. As though sensing his gaze, she glanced up and met his stare before turning her attention to the surrounding couples.
Her red sweater blazed like a flare amidst the sadistic mayhem. Zoe positioned herself at the center of the floor and bowed her head. A silent pulse of energy rippled the air. Time slowed. Bodies slumped to the ground. Mira collapsed in a heap at Kagan’s knees. Zoe held Xander’s stare for an interminable second. Then, with a whoosh, all returned to normal.
Xander crossed the dance floor toward her. She darted away, disappearing through a doorway at the rear of the club. The energy pulse was all the proof he needed. Proof he recognized like his own reflection. Zoe was a psychic — a pretty powerful one too, if she could affect time. Far-off childhood memories of a dark-haired boy alone in a white room full of monitors and electrodes crashed upon him. He shook them off and went after Zoe.
His sigil glowed and he halted. Skata! What the hell could Divinity need now? Xander’s curse echoed as he disappeared.
Chapter 11
Reality crashed down hard around Kagan, and he tried to remember what had happened. He stared at his shredded shirt then at Mira crumpled before him on the floor. Her top was singed where the Seal’s mark had burned through the material. Images of his submission flashed through his mind. The irresistible urge to yield to her desires lingered. His body continued to vibrate with excitement, his cock pulsing in time with his frantic heart. Oca! He’d known the Seal was trouble.
After a quick scan, he spotted Wyck and Chago disengaging themselves from their shell-shocked partners. With a nod to him, they each cloaked and departed. Kagan scooped up Mira and followed suit. Not to the rendezvous point at Wyck’s. Not yet. Not when he could still taste her on his lips and questions hung between them like overstuffed piñatas waiting to burst.
Moments later, he strode across the concrete floor of his apartment and deposited Mira on the sofa. She curled into a fetal ball and shivered. Kagan removed the remnants of his shirt and yanked a new one out of the closet without looking, his attention focused on Mira. He tossed a blanket over her and his eyes snagged on her heavy shoes. Merda! Nobody could sleep with those things on.
He unlaced them and pulled the boots free, revealing aqua blue fuzzy socks beneath. Her small foot fit entirely in one of his large hands. He remembered her assault on Argus and the guards in the department store and wondered how such a small woman could pack such a wallop. Pride welled within him. He stroked her arch with his thumb and smiled when she grumbled. Ticklish. Good to know.
Kagan dropped her footwear beneath the window then strode to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. He downed the entire bottle in one long gulp and tossed the empty into the sink before twisting the cap off another. This mission was not going as planned. Not at all. In three short days, he’d violated every Scion rule for targets and responsibilities. More surprising still, he’d done it with a smile. Vaff! What was wrong with him? He’d never strayed from orders, and he’d never slept with a target. Never.
Yet here he was, halfway through a mission that should have been completed days ago, lusting after Mira like a buck in first rut. Flashes of the softness of her belly pressed to his face, the scent of her arousal, the stroke of her fingers on his cock, sent a shudder through him. He glanced out the window at the snow falling beneath the yellow glow of the streetlamp. The wind had picked up since they’d left the club, now blustering to whip the snow into a frothy, glittering swirl.
An extended moan issued from the sofa and Mira sprang up. She squinted at him through her tangled hair, her expression confused. Desire rode him hard. He chugged his second beer and went in search of stronger poison. Cristo! He needed more than ale to make it through this night unscathed. Kagan searched the contents of the cabinets and fished out bourbon and two glasses.
They’d be having that talk now.
• • •
The bottle clunked on the table and Mira winced, clutching the blanket tight.
“I believe you owe me an explanation, Mira.” Kagan’s tone was brisk and strained. He poured the bourbon and held a glass out to her. She ignored him and scooted farther into her corner of the couch, away from his disturbingly male presence. Kagan forced the drink between her unresponsive fingers. His skin brushed hers. An unrelenting tingle raced up her arm. He stared at the spot where their hands touched before slumping into the leather cushion beside her. “Drink it, Mira. You need it.”
Mira swirled the liquor in her glass and tried to remember a time when she’d been more mortified. As if the scene in Wyck’s bathroom hadn’t been bad enough, now her performance at the club tonight took top honors. Kagan probably thought he had a pretty good handle on her issues, but he was wrong. She sipped her bourbon. Mira wasn’t a drinker, but damn, she needed an escape.
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 gon
e. “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.”
Seal of Destiny (Seven Seals Series Book 1) Page 13