by Anya Breton
He growled deep within his throat and grabbed my chin so that he could force another kiss on me. Though it was heated and sexy, I wasn't in the mood to be pawed outside my apartment building wearing Morrígan's little gift. All I wanted to do was strip out of it, shower off what she'd done to me and sleep the night away.
I shoved at his broad chest to little effect. It wasn't until I'd bitten down on his tongue that he loosened his grip. But I'd angered him and apparently anger did it for him because he slid his hands down to my waist to lift me to his pelvis for a proper grinding session. I had to admit that after the tenderness Morrígan had induced with her remote control, it didn't feel half bad. It helped that Alphas were notoriously well endowed.
Seconds later I was on my ass on the sidewalk and the Alpha was growling like a dog in a territorial dispute. I scrambled to my feet to figure out what the hell was going on and got hit with a face full of chestnut hair that smelled suspiciously like Aiden Bruce's cinnamon scent. They appeared to be in some sort of battle on the sidewalk in front of my apartment. I stood dumbly trying to decide what the hell to do.
The vampire ducked an attack directly in front of me. I saw the wide-eyed horror on his face as he reached out for me a heartbeat before I felt the claws enter my chest. My attention snapped forward to where I was met with Dominick's rage filled eyes. His fury fled in an instant once he'd realized what he'd done. The Alpha's claws immediately retracted as his hand shifted back into human form.
"Jesus Christ," Dominick exclaimed. "Are you okay?"
I'm not going to lie; it hurt. But thanks to the durable leather straps that made up Morrígan's gift, his claws hadn't slashed much further than a centimeter into my actual skin. The telltale tingling and itching meant I was already healing the wounds.
"I'm fine," I replied tersely with a step away from the hands that tried to check my wounds.
"I am sorry, Miss Denham. I shouldn't have avoided the attack," Aiden was saying with his attention focused solely on me. "It was cowardly of me."
My voice was low and angry, "This wouldn't have happened if you'd both just left me alone." I punctuated the last three words with a slow drawl.
The Alpha just couldn't resist trying to start more shit. "We were doin' just fine before he showed up. More than fine if you ask me..."
"I didn't," I called back after turning toward the building's entrance. "If either of you shows your face around here again without my invitation, I'll shoot it."
I didn't wait for the inevitable arguments. They could fight amongst themselves out there until the sun rose for all I cared. I was going to bed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I had made the mistake of showing up at Morrígan's stronghold in black jeans and a black t-shirt beneath my raincoat. I'd hoped she'd overlook the fact that it wasn't leather. I'd been wrong.
Her personal guard met me halfway to the inner sanctum. He bowed from the waist down. "Her holiness has arranged for more appropriate attire. If you would follow me." He didn't wait for an agreement before turning and walking in the direction parallel to the sanctum.
I couldn't for the life of me remember what his name was. I thought it was something that had once reminded me of Sesame Street, like Bert or Ernie. Or had it been the Muppets? Maybe his name was Gonzo.
Gonzo stopped in front of a door in a part of the stronghold I'd never visited. He gestured that I was to go inside and when I'd stepped forward he said, "Everything is laid out. She will be pleased if you were to accept these gifts."
In other words, if I didn't put on the clever new outfit, she was going to be displeased. I inhaled an irritated breath but didn't argue. I needed information from her witch. If putting on another silly outfit would get it, then dress me up and call me Fifi.
Gonzo didn't have to say it but I knew he'd wait outside for me. I supposed she'd never actually called him a guard. He was more like her personal errand boy, except he was probably nearly thirty. I didn't know how I knew he was older than me because he had the soft features of a much younger man. Maybe it was the lines around his eyes. I'd have admitted he was pretty if anyone had asked me.
The room he'd shown me to was a private washroom with a broad mirror. Bright lights around the mirror gave it a dressing room feeling. I found myself wondering how many people Morrígan forced into silly outfits. I'd always been too interested in avoiding her advances to consider how promiscuous she might be. Now was probably not a good time to start worrying.
Beside the sink was a stack of green garments that looked gauzy and lacy at first glance. I hadn't expected green. Morrígan required her coven to wear black when they were in residence. The only people that were allowed to wear colors other than raven were visitors that knew no better and the high priestess herself. I fit neither of those categories.
I didn't begin to worry about the order to change until I'd lifted the first few items off the stack. Morrígan had supplied undergarments, such that they were. The lacy items would be all but non-existent. The idea of putting them on brought a flush to my cheeks.
I snatched everything up to get this over with. It had been a long day. I'd slept restlessly until ten. Then I'd gotten up to get some last minute practice in on my instrument before I was due into rehearsal.
Jonas had shouted at me no less than four times for what he claimed were tempo problems. What he didn't understand was that the sheet music he'd given me by a little known early Romantic composer had tempo problems written into it. Rather than argue with him about it, I played what I thought he wanted rather than what was written. A few times I'd reverted to the printed music in error. Those few times had earned me the extra complaints. When I'd gotten home I'd worked on scrawling a new, fixed set of music so that Jonas would leave me alone.
The trepidation of another meeting with Morrígan had made it difficult to eat anything all day, even when my stomach was loudly protesting. Not even a trip to an outrageously expensive bakery had whet my appetite enough to nibble something. I wished I'd forced something down anyway.
Looking at the gauzy green gown in my hand made me wonder why exactly I'd been relieved when the clock had finally hit six o'clock. I knew I'd wanted to get it over with but now that I was here, I thought perhaps I should have come up with an excuse to avoid it. With a sigh I began removing my coat.
The outfit I'd exited wearing was not unlike the one Morrígan herself had been wearing last night. The grass green colored lightweight fabric hung from my body in waves that gently fluttered while I walked. The difference between the gowns was that mine had no corset. Instead the bodice was made of two pieces of crossed fabric that met at the center of the gown's high empire waist. A strapless bra in a matching color was barely hidden beneath it. By far the most uncomfortable piece Morrígan had given me was the high-heeled sandals that were strapped to my unsteady feet.
Gonzo walked me past the sanctum entrance towards the room at the back of the stronghold I'd come to term as Morrígan's torture chamber. I knew inside it was what looked to be a badass version of the ball toss at a local carnival except the priestess didn't bother with platforms above the water.
I was shown inside just as the witch, Megan I assumed from the bright red asymmetrical bob on her head and her long vulture-like nose, was dropped screaming into what was probably ice-cold water. The water splashed out of the container beneath the furious thrashing of her tightly bound mummy-like body. A set of metal hooks gripping her cocooned shoulders kept the witch's head just above the surface.
Morrígan stood in front of the sturdy glass tank with her hands crossed in front of her leather-clad chest. Her dark hair was pulled into a stark bun at the base of her neck seemingly held up by nothing. The priestess's perfect profile was fixed solemnly on the tank. Tonight she wore a cat suit made of distressed white leather. I tried my best not to notice how good she looked in it.
"Good evening, Ms. Denham," she greeted me politely without looking away from her witch. "You are just in time." Her voice went whi
p sharp, "You traitorous bitch, tell me who told you to kidnap Michelle DiSalvo!"
"Fuck you!" The witch yelled before the hooks plunged her beneath the water's surface. When she was brought up again she gagged from too much swallowed liquid.
"Tell me who you truly work for!"
I should have remembered that Morrígan needed no help getting information.
"Whore!" Megan got out just before being dunked again.
"We found evidence of several large cash deposits in her bank account to the tune of a hundred thousand dollars," the priestess told me in a calm voice. She flicked her finger over a remote control to lift her witch then resumed her imperious voice. "Tell me who paid to sully you and I will make your death painless."
"Fuck you!"
Such original responses made the whole incident painful to watch and worse to listen to. Morrígan was slowly drowning the woman but we were getting nowhere with our information gathering.
"You can't hold a candle to her!" The witch shouted as she went under for the tenth or twelfth time.
"Her?" I said in surprise. We were finally getting information. But it didn't help all that much considering nearly every coven in the region was headed by a high priestess. It could be any of them...any except Morrígan herself, if the witch were to be believed.
"You will tell me which bitch I can't hold a candle to, Megan." Morrígan's stern voice called out.
"Fuck you!"
Lovely, we were back to that.
When Megan surfaced this time, she chanted something I couldn't understand. Morrígan must have had better luck than me because she kept the girl above the water for far longer while she listened.
"She's repeating a chant in Gaelic," Morrígan told me after Megan had been submerged again. "It is one I have not heard in some time, long enough that I have forgotten what its purpose was. I wasn't aware any of the locals knew the language."
It was a clue, a clue she'd have to help me with, but a clue nonetheless.
"She's creating a better wor..." Megan screamed with her fleeting breath in between dunks. "Better world...where we'll all coopera..."
"She believes she's a martyr," Morrígan said with a sigh as the witch was immersed once again. "I don't believe we'll get information out of her."
"She's already given us two clues," I argued. "Maybe..."
The priestess interrupted me with a gesture to the tank. "That water is going to boil her alive if I don't pull her out."
She was right. The witch's thrashing and failed Fire attacks had heated the water enough that the glass fogged and tendrils of steam floated above.
"I will try again tomorrow if you wish," Morrígan said with a glance at me. "But perhaps you'd be better served by my researching that chant and what it was meant to do."
I sighed. I'd really wanted to be finished with this today. "Okay."
She lifted the witch above the surface for the final time. "I will be with you in one moment, Ms. Denham. I must personally see her back to the holding cell to assure no one gets hurt. You will await me in my study."
My mouth opened to argue but she'd already moved halfway across the room. Gonzo appeared to guide me away. While I trailed behind him I began wondering what it would be like to have my own devoted errand boy.
Gonzo never seemed to question the priestess's wishes. I'd not seen him give any indication that he was judging her actions. He was only ever biddable. There was no way in hell I'd ever find someone that submissive to me and if I did, I'd probably be so suspicious that I'd be tempted to shoot them. No, I didn't have the temperament for someone like Gonzo.
He left me alone inside the Morrígan's study with a promise to fetch my things. I had no doubt that he'd do it; I just didn't know when he'd do it. I hovered near her desk while attempting to read a few of her papers upside down. They appeared to be correspondence with other Fire priestesses. One letter was in a language I didn't recognize. It didn't appear to have its roots in one of the romance languages because I could generally make an educated guess at those thanks to the few classes in Spanish and French in high school and college.
"Thank you, Oscar," Morrígan's voice spoke from just outside the door.
Gonzo's name was Oscar! How could I have forgotten that? I'd silently made comparisons to the trash can puppet several times in the past. Perhaps I'd remember it now.
"Thank you for waiting, Ms. Denham," Morrígan greeted me from the door. Her voice had gone low and throaty.
I turned to find her standing just a foot inside the room. She'd pulled the zipper down on her cat suit to show a good span of creamy white skin and the edges of her perfectly shaped breasts. I hated that I noticed things like that on her.
I knew what she'd intended to do when she'd began advancing. My stumble backwards was probably not the brightest of reactions. It put me too close to her desk with no room to dart away because of the curious addition of a second chair.
She surprised me by grabbing me roughly by the neck with her right hand to shove me back against the desk. I'd begun to think maybe I hadn't known what she wanted when she stepped forward to nip my bottom lip between her straight white teeth. A sharp squeeze around the throat cut off my air temporarily before her fingers slackened.
"That was for making me watch those men salivate over you," she said in her huskiest of voices.
"I tried to keep them away," was my breathless defense.
With aching slowness she slid her hand from my neck downward while holding my eyes. The look on her face was that of a detached observer, a scientist noting the mouse in the maze. I hated that look on her.
Her fingers slid beneath the left side of my bodice. The scientific detachment faded into a sly smile when I sucked in a breath of air as her warm fingers slid into the cup of the strapless bra. Morrígan moved in for the kill before I could protest. She'd slipped the loose sleeves over my shaky shoulders, tugged the delicate bodice down all while pressing her knee between my thighs to keep me where I was. Her warm mouth quickly closed over the breast she was steadily baring.
Heat rose up from the center of me, flooding me as if it were riding my very veins. My gasp was loud enough that I knew everyone in the vicinity had heard it. I could feel the blood rushing to my face. This was supposed to be wrong. I wasn't supposed to enjoy the touch of another woman. I'd be mortified if anyone walked in now.
With unhurried care Morrígan rubbed her knee against the most sensitive part of me. The roughness of the leather she wore was easily felt through the thin layers of fabric that separated us. My arched body had taken on a will of its own and that will wanted to nothing to be between us. I muffled a moan into her shoulder as she flicked my unattended nipple with a set of manicured fingers. A shot of desire spiked down to my core.
Morrígan's wicked eyes snapped to mine in challenge. How dare I try to hide what I was feeling, were the unspoken words in that gaze. For my audacity I would pay.
Morrígan had the gauzy skirt lifted and her hand thrust beneath it a half second later. The chill that rushed against my skin was instantly chased away by the priestess's fiery touch. She slid her hands down my leg to curl beneath my knees. They bent for her as if knowing that was what she wanted. With a thumb curled around the front of my shins she pushed me back onto the top of the desk, uncaring that I was crinkling her many papers.
"Priestess," I bit out her title in a soft plea when I realized what she was planning to do.
Her beautiful face moved from side to side as if to say there was nothing to be done. With the same aching slowness she'd employed earlier but a far less detached expression, she lowered her head to the lacy panties she'd specifically bought for this purpose. I knew that now, knew the entire stupid outfit had been purchased so that she could easily seduce me. And as my pelvis arched against the searing tongue probing the delicate lace I still wore I couldn't force myself to be angry about that fact. How could I when she was drawing such delicious waves of sensation all across my tender skin?
; "You will stay the night," she said when I was at my most mindless. I must have agreed this time because she hadn't tried to force the issue as she'd done the last time she'd tried to seduce me.
At some point she'd taken the rest of the gown off and guided me into an adjoining chamber that had a rather lush, large bed coated in pillows and soft blankets. I remember watching her pull the zipper down on her cat suit, even recalled lovingly caressing the ample chest she'd revealed, I knew a lot more had happened but I didn't know how it was that I'd come to fall asleep with someone else in the room.
I woke to the soft glow of a few candles and Morrígan coaxing me awake with a playful finger between my thighs. My body warmed to her in an instant. She made a purring sound into my ear that drove me a little wild. Morrígan kissed me, a teasing, luxurious dance of tongues that made me want to melt into a puddle of wax beneath her flame.
"I've been scheming for months on how to get you into my bed," she murmured with a kiss against my temple. "Without setting something on fire, that is."
I couldn't help my light intake of amused breath. It was the only laugh I was capable of at that moment.
"Would it have been easier if I'd been a man?"
My head pulled back to get a better look at her face. Her lush lips were slightly parted and her brilliant blue eyes were focused intently on me. She truly wanted to know the answer to one of the few questions I could ever recall her asking.
"No," I admitted, hoping it was the truth.
"The vampire called me last night after you left. He tried to threaten me." She gave a husky laugh as if it were absurd that a vampire would do such a thing. "I knew you wouldn't lie to me. If he'd been your lover you would have merely said nothing at all yesterday."
"He isn't my lover," I assured her.
She pushed a lock of my sable hair away from my face. "You will tell me what is he to you, dearest Ms. Denham."
I didn't want to talk about Aiden Bruce with her. I wanted my time with her to be something that didn't intrude on anything else and vice versa. But the determination in her blue eyes forced an answer from me. "He's saved my life at least twice. I think he's having me followed. But I don't know why. He hasn't tried anything at all."