The hard ridge of his cock pressed against her belly and Meg was wet for him, but it was more than that. She wasn’t only wet, he wasn’t just someone she wanted—she needed him. Her cunt ached to be filled. It had been so long since she’d met a man who appealed to her as a woman and a Fury.
“Watch how you taunt me or I’ll be fucking you here in front of anyone who cares to watch.”
“I thought you said you wanted to be on the other side of the city, away from me when your beast was in control?” she asked as she pushed the jacket from his shoulders.
“I am in control. Not my beast.”
“So maybe you do want a taste of the wild side after all, Detective?” Meg tugged at the shoulder holster for his .40 and he shrugged out of it, along with his Kevlar vest, allowing her to begin with the buttons on his shirt.
“Maybe just a taste of you.” His voice was low and guttural, his beast rising. Then Marcus became the aggressor, returning her demanding kiss with one of his own.
Normally Meg would fight for dominance, use her tongue as a weapon to gain the male’s submission, but she didn’t even want to try. She melted against his hard body, running her hands inside his open shirt and over the bare skin of his shoulders, his back, the sculpted lines of his abs, down to his belt and the button on his slacks.
He pulled her tank off over her head and cast it aside before sliding his hand up her ribs to cup her bare breast. She pushed herself into his hand, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth when his calloused thumb teased over her hard nipple. Each stroke shot electric jolts straight to her clit. His touch was like a brand, her skin blazing with heat wherever he touched her and aching everywhere he didn’t.
She hadn’t realized he’d maneuvered them backward until the metal frame of a lounger was butting up against her legs. Meg sank down onto the cushion and drew him with her.
His lips replaced his fingers, sucking her nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth while his hands strayed down to her jeans. She shimmied out of them, spreading her legs on opposite sides of the lounger to accommodate him. Meg watched as he stripped, the intensity of her need keeping her from enjoying the show. She could eye-fuck him later. Judging by his quick, hurried movements, he didn’t want to wait either. He was back on his knees between her legs in moments.
With his hands on her, she didn’t care that they were naked on her back deck, that anyone who drove down the alley could see them. She didn’t care about anything but this moment.
Something inexplicable and volcanic welled hot and urgent. She needed him inside her more than her next breath. But he was content to continue plucking at her nipples, his fingers working the puckered flesh until she felt every stroke in her core. Then he’d take one sensitive bud back in his mouth. Meg didn’t want foreplay; there would be time for that later, after she’d claimed him as hers. Marked him the way she knew he wanted to mark her.
He began to work his way down her body, his hot mouth blazing a trail to her pussy. She fisted his hair in one hand and jerked his head up as his hard mouth began to descend to her slit. Meg jerked harder and he growled, obviously more determined than ever to taste her.
She shivered with need, but the Lycanos refused to be denied. His hot tongue delved between her wet folds and stroked over her clit with agonizing slowness. Meg needed it hard and fast, but Marcus took his time, driving her need higher and hotter.
His hands clamped down on her hips and anchored her in place so she couldn’t squirm closer or farther away from his ministrations. Meg had never felt so completely mastered, and she’d never wanted to, but she couldn’t deny she wanted everything he was doing to her and more.
But she also wanted to break his control. There was no hurried urgency with the way he lapped at her cunt, his tongue swiping and flicking as if he’d be content to lick her with no thought for his own pleasure until she begged him to stop.
“Fuck me, Lycanos,” she demanded, and he looked up at her, the color of his pupils shifting from black to yellow. “Yes!” Meg encouraged. Beast or man, she wanted this.
He crawled up her body, almost stalking her like he would prey, moving slowly, keeping her entranced with his eyes. She wanted to watch him, study the shifting of muscle, take in all his beautiful skin, but she couldn’t look away from his eyes.
And for the first time, Meg wondered if maybe he’d been right to warn her away. Yes, she was a Fury. She was almost invincible—but “almost” only mattered in instances of horseshoes and hand grenades, or so the saying went. She had no power to hurt him unless he was morally corrupt, and beasts were beholden to no moral laws in any case.
“Are you afraid?” His voice was like a sword on a whetstone.
“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly. There was no point in lying. He’d smell it on her.
Marcus proved yet again he was still in complete control. He shifted away from her, but Meg grabbed his biceps. “I didn’t say to stop.”
His eyes were still yellow and amber. “Didn’t you?”
She shook her head. “No, I said I was afraid. You’re stronger than I am. I’ve never met a man like you…so good and honorable, you’re immune to my power. Of course I’m afraid. But it doesn’t change what I want.”
And even though she was afraid, she still wanted to break his control. She still wondered how hard she’d have to push…
Meg pulled him back down to her. “In fact, it makes me want you more.”
“What if I told you I like that you smell afraid? Would you still want me then?”
His honesty was scalding. “Oh yes,” she said as she nipped the tender place between his shoulder and neck. “I’m a powerful alpha female. And your might is such that it makes me tremble. But I’ve put my trust in you to take care of me. To give me what I need without hurting me. That’s a prize for any alpha.” She nipped at him again, laving her tongue over the mark her teeth made on his golden skin. “Why shouldn’t you like it? Why shouldn’t your beast and your pride enjoy that victory?”
His cock jerked against her thigh at those words, hard and thick—heavy. She reached between them and closed her fingers around the silky flesh and guided him to her cunt.
“Fuck me, Marcus,” she demanded again.
He didn’t make any move to kiss her, but continued watching her with his predator’s eyes as he slowly slid home, and that was more intimate somehow, meeting that gaze as he filled her.
His hips pistoned forward and her pussy spasmed around him, clenching and pulling him deeper. She bucked to meet his thrusts, wanting all he had to give and more. Marcus drove into her body with the intensity she craved and it was everything Meg wanted it to be. A starburst, like the birth of a sun, built beneath her skin, frenetic and incinerating. She had to keep it at bay. Meg wasn’t ready for this to be over. She’d never felt anything like this and she didn’t know if she’d ever get to feel it again.
She wrapped her legs around his waist in order to gain some control, but he grasped her hip and slid his forearm beneath her ass to arch her body for an even deeper penetration.
Meg gasped at the sensation from the new angle and he moved more slowly, but his thrusts were deeper, harder, more measured. And all she could do was ride the cresting waves of ecstasy.
She shuddered as her power exploded out of her with her orgasm, her inner fire erupting to envelop them both. Her nails were suddenly claws tearing into his back, but that blade of pain sent him over the edge. His body stiffened and a primal, guttural sound was torn from him as his human mouth closed around her throat in a possessive bite.
She screamed then, not in pain but pleasure, as the starburst sensation erupted again when he spilled inside her.
She clung to him, their bodies slicked and sapped just as she’d imagined. When she crashed back to the real world, Meg found herself curled into his side, her head on his broad chest and his arm around her, fingers twining idly in her hair.
“Your hair smells like moonlight and lilacs,” he said finally.<
br />
“Moonlight has a scent?”
“For my kind.”
“I rub lilac oil on the ends of my hair to keep it healthy.” She trailed her fingers over his chest, drawing nonsense designs on his skin with a fingertip. Then she berated herself for saying something so stupid. He didn’t care what she used on her hair. But she didn’t know what else to say.
Megaera had enjoyed plenty of one-night stands and meaningless hookups. She didn’t know what to say because Marcus was something else, something different. A creature worthy of a Fury. But she didn’t know him, not yet. So there wasn’t really anything to say.
“Tonight is still not a good idea,” he said, breaking the suddenly weighty silence.
“Please tell me you don’t chain yourself up somewhere like some—”
“Animal?” he finished for her, a golden brow arched and a smirk that was somehow sad curving his lips.
“Animal,” she repeated, and slid across his body to straddle him. “You’re not, you know.” Meg studied the tattoo on his bicep. It was from an eighteenth-century German woodcut. It depicted a large bipedal werewolf holding a maiden in his jaws, an iron cross hanging around her neck, her head thrown back in either agony or ecstasy, Megaera couldn’t tell. She ghosted her hand over his ink. “That’s not what you are.”
“Isn’t it? I bit you just now.” Marcus pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear then moved the silver-blond curtain over her shoulder to expose her throat.
“And I wanted it. It made me come again. I marked you too, Marcus.”
His smirk softened into a genuine smile. “With your sharp Fury claws.”
“Oh, is the big bad wolf scared of little old me?” she teased, raking her nails over his chest.
“Quaking with it, Fury.” His cock hardened and jutted against her pussy.
She was ready for another round. Meg rolled her hips, urging him inside her again, but his phone had other ideas.
The sharp trill of the ring was silenced almost immediately. He didn’t hesitate to answer and, judging from how fast he moved, hadn’t even considered letting it go to voicemail so he could finish their interlude.
“Kage.” His free hand trailed lazy caresses down her spine, but paused as a shadow crossed his face. “Yeah, I’m on my way.” He put the phone down. “I’m sorry, Meg. That was my partner. I have to go.”
“Okay.” She stood and stepped over him to find her clothes. “Duty calls and all that.” Another downside to sleeping with the hero, and there were already plenty.
Catcalls echoed up from the street, where a pedestrian had caught sight of her bare breasts. She ignored him and sat down on the other lounger to pull on her shirt. Her eyes were drawn to where Marcus’ still-hard cock strained with need, but was ignored as he pulled on his slacks.
“I’d like to see you again,” he said quietly as he buttoned up his shirt and pulled on his shoulder harness.
“You could come back.” Meg licked her lips. “Tonight.” She didn’t bother to pull her jeans on. She was just going inside to shower.
“No, I don’t trust the beast. Or myself.”
“Why? You didn’t hurt me.”
“I’m going to leave my card, Meg. If you want to see me, call me. After the full moon.”
“What if I’m in danger? What if whoever’s killing these Amazons decides to kill me? I’m a servant of Athena just like they are.”
“Then you’ll solve my problem for me, won’t you? You’re a Fury. You’ll make them pay in ways I never could.”
Chapter Three
It had been unbelievably hard to leave her, especially when her tight pussy had been so wet and ready for him a second time. Marcus had no trouble believing he could lose days fucking her.
But forensics had pulled a print off Galatea’s bag and they’d already had a hit. A local guy named Nicodemus Frost. In certain circles, he was known as Witchfinder. He was an assassin who specialized in supes.
Marcus’ gut told him this wasn’t their guy. A plus B didn’t always equal C—not in the supernatural world. A creature like Frost, he’d never be so clumsy as to leave a print if he was behind the murders.
It made sense if someone wanted him to think it was Frost. So he had to talk to the guy, find out who he’d pissed off.
The shorter list would probably be those he hadn’t pissed off.
His thoughts were drawn back to Megaera. Even with his body sated once, his beast still howled for her. So did the man. He wanted to take her again, taste her, lose himself inside her.
And that’s what he feared the most—losing himself.
He was afraid if he did, there would be no way back. It was as if he’d climbed aboard a one-way train that was running out of track the minute he’d laid eyes on— No, the second he’d scented Megaera Eumenides. He couldn’t even blame the beast, as he’d done all those years ago. Marcus was the one in charge now. When all hell broke loose, the blame would rest solely on his shoulders.
On the short walk back to his Charger, it was with bittersweet realization that it occurred to him he hadn’t thought of Esmerelda Payne in nearly a decade. He’d schooled his mind and body so rigorously, he’d managed to free himself of that demon for a little while.
Now that black cloud of memory and pain welled like a newly thawed fountain. She was the reason why he knew Meg wouldn’t be safe with him on the full moon. He wanted Meg, his beast had claimed her…but he’d loved Esme.
And he’d killed her.
Marcus hadn’t even thought of her when he’d met the Fury. He was surprised now that Meg hadn’t felt his guilt and punished him. Instead, she’d lain down with him, invited him into her flesh. Trusted him.
Just like Esme.
After Marcus had shown her what he was, Esme had run from him—and he’d killed her. Ran her down like prey.
He’d offered himself to her family. Even gave them the silver bullets blessed by Artemis to put him down.
Even if the Fury called him, he couldn’t see her again. He wanted her too much.
Marcus took a breath and walled off that part of him, scraped it away like so much mold on the last piece of bread. This was why he served. It was his penance. Nothing mattered but stopping these killings.
He connected his iPod to the stereo and turned on a work playlist. The one he always listened to in the early days of a case he was working. The first song was Closer by Nine Inch Nails. There was something about that whole album that helped him step out of his own head and into someone else’s.
He strummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove to the address Ian had texted him after they’d hung up. Nicodemus Frost owned a house in the Country Club Plaza district, Sunset Hill. He couldn’t help but wonder how many gallons of supe blood had paid for his lifestyle.
When he pulled up to the gate, Ian was already there, his car parked on the street. Marcus didn’t hesitate to pull up to the security camera and intercom.
“Detectives Marcus Kage and Ian Spinner, KCPD, to speak to Mr. Frost.”
“Please present your badges to the camera, gentlemen,” a female voice responded.
He flipped open his badge and Ian showed his. The gates creaked open and Ian slid into the passenger side of the Charger.
“Did you get anything from the chick at Furyous Ink?” Ian asked.
“Yeah, I did.” He smirked. “She tattooed the girl, but her copier ran out of ink and she didn’t get a scan of the girl’s ID.”
“Yeah, whatever. How do you run out of ink in a tattoo shop? Did you bust her balls for doing it under the table? Threaten to pull her license?”
“No, man. Like I said, it’s a Greek thing.” Kage shrugged. “She didn’t know what the tattoo meant. She’d never seen or done another one like it. The girl came in with artwork and left with her tattoo.”
“So, if it was a Greek thing, did you get her number?”
“I’m on duty, Ian.” Marcus laughed. “It’s not all about getting laid.”
“Then you gave her your number?”
“Of course. I gave her my card to call if she remembered anything else.”
“Yeah, right.” Ian rolled his eyes. “You missed a button on your shirt, Mr. It’s-a-Greek-Thing.”
Marcus smirked but said nothing else. He knew damn well he hadn’t missed a button. It was Ian testing his story, the sneaky bastard.
They rolled to an easy stop in front of the house and a butler met them at the door. Human, by the smell of him.
Marcus also smelled something else. Something toxic…something he recognized from the alleyway where they’d found the last vic.
He didn’t think it was coming from the butler but Marcus couldn’t be sure, even as they followed the servant into the foyer, where they waited for Nicodemus Frost. The man in question presented himself shortly after, looking calm and freshly scrubbed.
“What can I do for you this morning, Detectives?”
Marcus had never been formally introduced to Frost, but his reputation was well known and he’d become a fixture in supe and mortal high society. “I’m Detective Marcus Kage,” he said, taking the lead.
“I know who you are. We have a mutual friend.” Frost smiled, the expression just as cold as his name. “So what can I do for you?” he reiterated.
Kage wasn’t sure who Frost was talking about, but he didn’t feel he could press the issue in front of Ian, who had pulled out his iPhone and brought up a picture of the latest victim.
“Do you know this girl?” Ian asked.
Frost’s reaction would have been imperceptible to human instruments and senses, but Kage heard the single skip of his heartbeat as he looked at the picture of the dead girl. He knew her, and he knew her well.
“Her name was Galatea. She worked for me.”
“In what capacity?”
“She was my personal assistant.”
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