Paladin (Graven Gods Book 1)

by Angela Knight

  I threw back my head, feeling an orgasm gather like a storm front, spinning tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter, dancing just beyond the…

  “Not yet,” he growled. “Not until I’m in you.”

  He stepped in between my legs, gripping my thighs, and his twin dropped his whip just as the chains disappeared. He caught me before I could fall on my face, gathering me in for a kiss. Behind me, his twin angled my body until he could feed his thick cock into my pussy from behind. Inch after inch of it stuffing me full.

  I shuddered, moaning into Paladin’s mouth, as he braced me, fingers teasing my nipples, for his twin’s ruthless thrusts.

  Somehow there was a mouth down there too, sucking my clit, though there couldn’t possibly be room, not with Paladin shafting me. Besides, neither man’s head was anywhere near my pussy. It’s not real…

  The mouth stopped eating me to purr, “As real as anything else, baby.”

  I wondered what it meant by that, then decided I didn’t care. Not as long as this acid trip of a fuck felt so delicious.

  “Your pussy does feel sooooo good,” Paladin gritted in my ear, grinding in until my eyes rolled back in my head. “So tight, so wet, so perfect…”

  “Your cock… feels pretty good… too…” I gasped against his twin’s mouth, dizzy, as finger/tongues lapped and squeezed -- fingers one minute, tongues the next, and holy shit, I was losing my mind… spinning, lost and dizzy, until it seemed the only reality was the heat of Paladin’s big bodies sandwiching me between them. Pleasure piled on pleasure, sensations strung together like pearls, iridescent and glowing.

  The climax detonated, an explosion of light behind my eyes. I stiffened, sucking in a desperate breath to scream, lost and spinning.

  “Yessssss,” Paladin growled in my ear, fucking me so hard my breasts juddered with every stroke, my head snapping back and forth, my hair a blinding tumble. “Remember that when you go to that boy’s bed. You’re mine, damn it.”

  “Yeah, oh God, yours…” I wheezed.

  He drove to the balls, his fingers digging into my ass as he shot and shot, kissing me all the while. It must have been the twin, not that it mattered, since it was all Paladin.

  Paladin, my immortal lover, my god, my duty to the next generation.

  I would never know this with Ulf-Mark. We’d have a perfectly civil marriage, produce two children, one for each of our gods, live out our civil lives in warm friendship. Paladin would pass from me when my body began to age and slow, moving into my child at the height of his or her strength. Leaving me alone to slip into old age with Mark, just Mark, no longer Ulf-Mark.

  Assuming our enemies didn’t kill us between now and then.

  My eyes stung, and something wet slid down my face.

  Chapter Ten

  “Summer?” Calliope said. “Summer, snap out of it, whatever the hell it is.”

  I blinked, and found myself standing fully dressed in the clearing. There was no sign of Paladin -- either of him. Which was no surprise, since he’d never been there to begin with. I scrubbed a hand over my blurring eyes. “What?”

  The cat peered up at me, back feet on my booted toes, forepaws hooked in the fabric of my jeans. “Zanos-James sent me after you. He wants to brief us all before tonight’s hunt.”

  “Right.” I reached down, and she jumped up into my arms and swarmed up to my shoulder, where she perched as I straightened.

  “You do realize you need to stop this,” she said softly to me. “It’s really not good for you.”

  “Do you seriously believe I’m in control?”

  “Do you seriously believe he’d push it if you told him no?”

  Of course he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t like it, but he’d never force me. Paladin was the god of Justice. He didn’t commit crimes. “Telling him no is harder than it sounds.”

  “I’d imagine so,” Calliope said dryly. “But you’ve spent your life training to do things that are harder than they sound.”

  My voice dropped to a masculine growl. “Stay out of this, Calliope.”

  “God damn it, Paladin, you’re four thousand years old. Grow up.”

  He snarled something in a language I didn’t speak. Whatever he said made her ears flatten and her tail lash. She spat back something just as incomprehensible that sounded like a string of obscenities. Gaelic, maybe? Something musical, anyway.

  I kept my mouth shut as I carried her through the woods, trying to ignore the empty ache in the center of my chest. I knew Calliope was right, but I also knew there was no way in hell I could say no to anything Paladin chose to give me. I wanted every single minute of his raw passion I could get.

  Soon enough I’d have to settle into cool, dutiful friendship with Ulf-Mark. And if the thought left me feeling cold and hollow right down to the toes of my boots, that was my problem.

  “Asshole,” Calliope muttered.

  I didn’t think she was talking to me, but I could be wrong.

  Zanos-James eyed me when I walked back into the clearing where he and his warriors sat. He looked more than a little pissed, based on the muscle ticking in his jaw, Rizoel mantled, lifting her wings and stepping back and forth on her perch on his arm, reflecting his mood. “Glad you could join us, Paladin-Summer.”

  Beside him, Opal lifted her brows, looking amused. I had the feeling she knew exactly what we’d been doing, and I wondered what Paladin had been telling her.

  Not a damn thing.

  Then she must be a better detective than you are, because she knows plenty.

  I felt my cheeks go hot, and knew I was blushing again. To Zanos-James, I said, “Sorry, sir. We had a few things to discuss.” I sank down into the seat I’d vacated.

  “Right.” His voice dropped to a dry mutter. “Tell somebody without magical senses, you horny bastard.”

  Oh, gods! I thought in horror, They all know what we were doing? How? The whole thing had taken place in my head! Unless…”Did you let me yell?” I hadn’t exactly been restrained in my reactions to his -- their -- lovemaking. Not that I could have been. He’d almost blown off the top of my head.

  “Thank you. And no, I didn’t let you yell. But Zanos-James does have very sharp magical senses. If it’s any comfort, I doubt any of the others sensed anything.”

  “Including Ulf-Mark?” He was pretty damned powerful. Not that it mattered, because Zanos-James had just told every-fucking-body. I wanted to die.

  I threw a quick glance at Ulf-Mark. He looked like he’d been slapped. I winced. No wonder. He’d just asked me out. I’d not only hurt him, I’d publicly shamed him.

  This was it. He’d want nothing more to do with me. A prospect that didn’t bother me nearly as much as it should.

  Except that didn’t solve the problem. I still had to produce children, and I wasn’t going to be doing that with Paladin.

  “To get back to business,” Zanos-James said, pointedly changing the subject, “We need to do something about Valak. Who badly needs to die. He’s not just a psycho, he’s a sloppy psycho.”

  The god of Graven had a low, deep voice that went with his big hands and broad shoulders. I found him sexy, a fact which made Paladin produce that subsonic psychic growl of his. Both of us were careful to keep our thoughts off our face. Neither of us wanted to have one of our schizoid arguments in front of the chief. We’d already humiliated ourselves enough as it was.

  “The bastards have been entirely too busy,” said Terry Baylor. A tall, lovely redhead, she was a homicide detective in the Graven Police Department. She was a Demi, but such a powerful one I suspected she’d soon get a god of her own. “The department’s starting to wonder if we’ve got a serial killer. Which we do, of course. Unfortunately, it’s not a serial killer, it’s serial killers, plural -- and not a bunch the cops are equipped to hunt.”

  “Careless, vicious bastards.” Paladin’s grip tightened on the Coke can we held. The thin aluminum started to crinkle, and he eased our hold before he spilled it all over us. “If they keep
this up, they risk attracting attention none of us can afford. And that’s aside from all the lives they destroy.”

  “Far too many lives,” Zanos-James agreed. “Not that there’s an acceptable number.” He stood and began to pace circles around the fire. We all watched him intently. “I want this bastard dead and his nest of killers wiped out before the situation gets any worse.”

  “Given the circumstances, we’d do well not to send anyone out alone,” Ulf-Mark observed. He didn’t sound like a boy now, not with the god of wolves looking out of his eyes. “Two fighter teams consisting of an avatar and a Demi. That’ll give us the maximum possible coverage with the maximum available power.”

  Rizoel spread her wings and tail feathers, mantling. “I’ll maintain my usual magical communication link to the teams and coordinate the response to any trouble.”

  “I may have a lead,” Paladin told Zanos-James. “I took an asshole named Gerald Moss a couple of days ago. His senior priest was Billy Preston, who likes to hang out at Zap on Saturdays, where he picks up women and collects tribute from his pack of underlings. Which he then passes up to Valak.”

  “Wouldn’t they know you took Moss by now?” Zanos-James frowned, his expression dubious. “I doubt Preston would be stupid enough to show up somewhere they know you’ve discovered.” He flashed white teeth in a grin that just cried out for fangs. “You have a certain reputation.”

  Paladin grinned back. “I do try.” He sobered, and shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Gerald wasn’t particularly disciplined when it came to turning in tribute. He’d gotten in deep shit about that more than once; Preston threatened to kick his ass if he did it again. They may assume he’s just putting it off again.”

  Ulf-Mark spoke up, his expression deeply troubled. “Wouldn’t Valak have sensed you taking out his acolyte?”

  “I always shield when I kill those bastards. If I don’t, I end up ass-deep in Valakans. Pretty sure they didn’t sense me killing Moss, though they may have found out since.”

  Zanos-James considered the point. “It’s definitely worth checking out. Take Ulf-Mark with you, though. I’m taking Opal with me.”

  I stiffened. “Oh, hell. Pairing us with Ulf-Mark could result in more fireworks than fighting Valakans. Can’t you talk him out of this?”

  “I’m afraid we’re going to have to suck it up. You don’t tell Zanos-James no when it comes to his battle plans.” Paladin might be the local god of Justice, but Zanos-James was god of Graven. Which meant he had the raw power to make his decisions stick. “We’ll just have to make it work.”

  “Aren’t you two friends? Maybe he’ll have mercy on us.”

  “Either that or laugh sadistically. My money’s on the laughing.”

  The fact that Paladin wasn’t even willing to fight that particular battle said it all. He wasn’t normally the type to submit to anyone about anything.

  So we sat there, me simmering in a broth of anxiety, while Zanos-James solidified his battle plans. Creating a glowing map of the city in midair, he assigned each Avatar-Demi pair a section of the city. The most powerful gods got the nastiest sections of Graven to patrol, while the least powerful were sent to the suburbs and business areas.

  I noticed he also assigned the most experienced and powerful Demis to the Avatars with the least combat training. That way nobody would run into a Valakan strike team who didn’t have the power to deal with it.

  Paladin wasn’t in the least surprised when Zanos-James gave himself the very worst of the lot -- a chunk of the outskirts where the public housing had become the Valakans’ favored hunting ground. At least, judging by the pattern of attacks we’d all observed over the past few weeks.

  The god of the city stood, Rizoel half spreading her wings for balance. “All right, you lot. What are you waiting for?”

  Paladin wanted a word with him, so we waited as everybody got up and trooped off, voices lifting in either battle plans or trash talk.

  “You could cut the testosterone with a sword.” Detective Baylor rolled her eyes as she strolled over to join us.

  “And that includes the women,” Zanos-James agreed as we all started through the woods.

  Ulf-Mark fell in alongside me. I concealed a guilty wince as he gave me his open, cheerful grin. “So where are we headed first?”

  Before Paladin could answer, a crashing erupted in the woods ahead. A Demi woman burst through a cluster of trees at a dead run. “Zanos-James! Zan-James, they’ve got my son!”

  Warriors jumped out of the way, shouting in surprise. Paladin caught her shoulders just before she could slam into us at full speed. It took me a moment to recognize her, she looked so wild-eyed and sweat-streaked, red hair tumbling around her face in a wild tangle.

  Jennifer Stone, Dave’s mother, who owned one of the shops in my strip mall. I hadn’t even known she was a Demi, though now that we touched, I could feel the magic pulsing under her skin. “You’ve got to help me! Valak’s got my son!” Her hands clutched at my shoulders, and tears ran down her cheeks.

  Dave? They took Dave?

  “What happened, Jennifer?” Zanos-James moved forward and took over, guiding her back to the clearing to sit down. Sending Opal after a soft drink, he settled Mrs. Stone into a chair.

  I followed, sick anxiety surging through me. Dave, cute, puppyish Dave, with his thinly disguised crush on me and his fierce love of all things geek, from video games to comic books with a cosplay chaser.

  “And generations of Demi breeding,” Paladin reminded me grimly. “Jennifer’s only Demi, but his father was Ador-Gene, who fell in battle against the Valakans last year.”

  Hell. I’d been told he had a heart attack. Yet another kindly Demi lie.

  But all of that was water under the bridge. The immediate issue was that Dave’s fate would be horrific if we didn’t get to him in time. The Valakans would wipe him the way you’d erase a hard drive, killing everything he was so some bastard could seize control of his body. And since he was so young, he’d burn out in weeks, dead of stroke. Or else they’d just kill him and eat his magical soul on the spot.

  Either way, the kid was dead.

  God damn it, no. Not Dave. “Paladin, we can’t let them kill that boy!”

  “Of course not.” There was no panic in the thought. Paladin didn’t panic. No matter how bad a situation was, he’d been through worse during his long life. Up to and including earthquakes, hurricanes, and volcanic eruptions. All of which gave him a certain perspective no mere mortal could match.

  The touch of that calm, calm consciousness soothed my fear. If anybody could save my friend, it was Paladin.

  Zanos-James soon got Jennifer calmed down enough to talk. More or less, anyway. Her hands still shook so badly, more of the Coke ended up on her than down her throat.

  “We were on our way to the Demifair,” she managed, scrubbing at her tearstained eyes with the back of her hand. “We were closing up. I’d just walked out of the shop when I saw this avatar hit Dave on the head and take him!” Her voice spiraled up at the end, panic edging every word.

  “And we’ll get him back, but we have to know more,” Zanos-James said, patient but firm. He was obviously as immune to panic as Paladin. “Which means you’ve got to describe them well enough that we can find him.”

  Calliope jumped into the woman’s lap, and Jennifer clutched at her like a furry lifeline. The cat suffered herself to be held. A lapful of purring Cal is better than a Valium. Calliope deserved an Oscar for it, too, because I knew she wasn’t in the mood to purr. She liked Dave every bit as much as I did.

  “I was running late -- customers -- and Dave was really nervous.” Jennifer paused to direct the next words to me. “He was worried about how you were going to react to him being Demi and not telling you. But Paladin had ordered us to keep our mouths shut, so he really didn’t have a choice. He’s got such a crush on you…”

  “Yes, ma’am.” A fifteen-year-old in the grip of puppy love doesn’t do subtle. “Then what happened? D
escribe the kidnapper.”

  “Dave walked out before I did -- I was setting the store alarm -- and I heard him yell. I ran out, and he was struggling with this big blond guy…”

  “Can you project the memory?” Zanos-James asked her.

  Jennifer paused, blinking, hands pausing in mid stroke on Calliope’s black fur. “I think so.” Her expression went set with concentration, and she gestured.

  An image formed in the air, three dimensional but a little blurred around the edges. Dave, struggling with a big blond man in leather who looked vaguely familiar. The thug had the meaty shoulders of a professional bodybuilder, blocky features, and buzz cut with a receding hairline. I’d be willing to bet on steroid abuse.

  The Terminator wannabe also wore an expression of frustrated surprise, probably because he was having so much trouble subduing Dave. All Demi kids had hand-to-hand training from the time they were toddlers, even if they weren’t from a warrior clan.

  All of which meant Dave wasn’t going quietly.

  In the memory, his mother raced toward them screaming, her hands igniting in a blaze of magic.

  Cosplay Terminator looked up, saw her coming, and hit the kid hard right in the temple. Distracted by his mother, Dave failed to block. He folded, and the thug opened the car’s back door and threw him inside, leaping in after him even as the car roared off.

  Screaming, Jennifer hurled a series of spell blasts after the car, but somebody threw up a spell shield. Her attacks hit the shield like confetti snowballs, exploding into harmless sparks.

  Jennifer ran after the car, throwing spells and shrieking obscenities, but the shield didn’t give. The car disappeared around the corner with a squeal of tires and a deep engine roar as it accelerated away.

  The memory spell dissolved and Jennifer collapsed, panting, clutching her temples. I knew she’d just given herself a hell of a headache, on top of whatever aftereffects she had from throwing all that magic around. “Get him back,” she moaned, her voice aching with desperation. “You’ve got to get him back before they kill him…”