Tendril Hearts (Immortals Book 11)

by LJ Vickery

  “The only thank-you you’ll get is a nice little note in the mail, saying ‘Much obliged for the good food and taking such special care of Sienna.’ That’s it. Now out you go.” Verrie swept her hand in the direction of the door, only to have it caught with a…handful of claws? Oh, hell no. This wasn’t happening.

  Small whiskers popped out from Quinn’s cute little cheeks while her nose flattened and flexed. Verrie’s mouth fell open as she was soft-pawed back toward her bed.

  No use fighting. Quinn smiled, pushing. Two sharp canines glistened, making Verrie more amenable to listening.

  Damn. What was with these shifters and their fangs? Absently, she wondered if Dr. Dani doubled as a dentist.

  The backs of her knees hit the mattress, and she toppled like a tree. “You should be nicer to me, you know,” Verrie told Quinn. “I’m related to your husband, and I might…I could…” she wasn’t able to finish the thought. Verrie had been about to speculate she might be able to get her inner cat on, but that was too crazy to contemplate.

  Apparently, Quinn disagreed.

  What? Turn to pussy? She grinned in a very feline-like way. I count on it once you are goddess. I need another female to prowl with.

  Verrie groaned. “You guys are all so messed up.” She tried to sit up on the bed, but Quinn pushed her back down, playfully if Verrie was not mistaken. Great. Now they were acting out a cat and mouse thing. “Okay, fine. What do you want me to do?”

  First, get out of shirt. Quinn reached down with a sharp claw and in one swipe popped all the front closing buttons. Verrie’s shirt gaped open.

  Uh-uh. There was no way this petite little kitty was going to undress her without getting a fight. Verrie narrowed her eyes, then went limp as if to comply, but in one swift move rolled to the end of the bed where she sprang up, landing lightly on her feet. “Don’t mess with me,” she hissed―ah shit. She hissed.

  The cat who was still half goddess laughed in Verrie’s head. You are going down.

  The cat chick had turned nuts on her. Veronica needed help, and with a house full of gods, someone was bound to come to her aid, but she was too afraid she’d get Dumuzi. Dammit all.

  “Listen, I know I can’t fight you. You’re a leopard for shits and giggles and a goddess in real life. Just back the fuck out of the door, and we’ll call this quits.”

  Pick bag up off floor and put bra on. I not leave until you do.

  Verrie weighed the options. She didn’t have any. She hated being told what to do, but she was fresh out of ideas.

  Fine, she grunted at Quinn-cat. But there will be a reckoning, and it may involve collars and leashes. Verrie thought she might have heard a purr as she retrieved the hated bag, but by the time she stood up, Quinn’s puss was impassive. Who said poker was for dogs.

  Verrie skinned out of her ruined shirt, and popped the front closure to her leopard print bra. Yeah. Suck that up, kitty. Leopard print. She pulled the bright, white demi from the bag. Cute. Push-em-up half-sees so the tops of her pink nipples were on display. And Quinn wanted this why? She looped it over her arms, hooked the back closure and arranged her nipples to be on center. If she was going to flaunt them, they might as well be picture perfect.

  “Your next move, puss,” she stood back and waited.

  Throw on robe and lose pants, Quinn ordered.

  “I’m not sure what you have in mind.” Verrie dropped her jeans and bent to give a purposely full view of her very average behind while rummaging in the packed case for her robe. “But if it involves your husband, I’m not feeling it. You, on the other hand, if you’re looking for a little change of pace, will need to lose the dominant species shit. I have a control issue, and I like to be in charge.”

  Much I might like that, Quinn laughed, this about you, not me. Put robe on and move it. We have places to be, people to meet.

  “This isn’t funny, you know.” Until that moment, Verrie had still been thinking she could outmaneuver Quinn and skedaddle. But seriously? People to meet? In her new white nipples-up underwire? Verrie donned her robe over the bra and scant panties and swept out the door.

  “Where to?” She was so screwed.

  Quinn grabbed her hand which thankfully had gone back to fingernails and tugged her down the stairs. At that moment, the door opened below, and Dumuzi was escorted in by Flick and Scobalt, looking as reluctant as Verrie felt. Okay. So this was some elaborate intervention, a ruse to get the two of them back together. Verrie got it. Sexy underwear…hot god. Maybe they were going to be thrown into that dungeon room together to work out their differences? Damn. Why did that thought have moisture pooling between her legs? She scowled for effect while walking down the last few steps, hoping to just get the supposed “fix” over with.

  Oh goody. An audience. While she’d been descending and Muze entering, an immortal contingent of a half-dozen or more had gathered to hold witness to whatever humiliation Quinn had cooked up.

  Closet, the cat-goddess barked now that she was no longer a cat.

  What? She wanted them to revisit the spot of their first make-out session? That was just cruel.

  “Quinn. Cut it out. Right now. Veronica isn’t interested. She’s made that perfectly clear.” Dumuzi’s face was devoid of emotion.

  “Me?” Verrie wanted to wipe the nonchalance right off of his handsome mug. “You’re the one who doesn’t light up for me and wasn’t man enough to tell me about it.”

  He winced.

  Good. That’s what she wanted…so why did it make her feel like a mean bitch?

  Into closet. Now. Quinn wasn’t messing around. And if you don’t make quick, you have more audience than just me. Some gods here would pay money to front row seat for what I have planned.

  No thanks, Quinn. Anshar’s voice cut through immortal-silence. I don’t need to see Muze’s sorry ass. And if we so much as glance at his naked woman, we’d end up strangled by invasive vegetation in our beds tonight. No. We’re all good. He spoke for the entire crew. Do what you have to do.

  Quinn gave him a nod and pulled Verrie toward the closet with one hand while backwardly signing to Flick with the other. Verrie supposed she told the agent to entice Dumuzi to the small cloakroom because without turning, she felt the big god on her heels.

  Flick left them at the door, and the unlikely trio went in to have the portal closed behind them…which thrust them into the dark. Well. Nearly. Verrie could see in the almost zero light conditions, and she knew the immortals could, too, so now what? It was Quinn’s game.

  Verrie, drop robe, Quinn ordered. Verrie sighed. She wasn’t going to fight. It wasn’t as if Dumuzi hadn’t seen everything already. She undid her sash and let the silky material drop to her feet. Standing in just her small panties and her new, sinful bra actually had her pulse quickening, just a bit.

  Dumuzi, forgive me, you undress, quickly too. Quinn sounded a little more hesitant this time, and Verrie had those suspicions confirmed when she added. If Sham get back… And don’t you tell my husband this because if finds out, someone be dead-meat. Probably be you, Muze.

  Verrie’s first thought was she’d be long gone by the time Sham got back, but Muze apparently took the threat seriously. He shucked his jeans. Verrie’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as his delectable man-parts came into view, and she had to give herself a shake and remind herself why she was walking out that door as soon as Quinn’s little game was over. Dumuzi might be drool-worthy and funny and smart, but dammit he’d scammed her. Eternal mate indeed. Temporary bed-mate was more like it. Still…

  So what you did on first day, in closet? Quinn asked, a little breathlessly.

  Well, duh. What did she think they’d been doing? Checking out the hangers?

  Muze answered. I lifted her up by her ass, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. His voice was raspy and deep.

  Veronica played along because…okay. It was a turn-on remembering.

  But I tweaked both your nipples on the way up if you recall.

&n
bsp; Do it, Quinn ordered, shakily, and the pair complied. Both women witnessed Dumuzi’s body tense as he lifted and Verrie’s nails plucked the god’s brown nubs and twined herself around him.

  Bless her, Quinn still had the presence of mind to ask what occurred next. And then?

  Well, we kissed, Muze answered.

  A blistering heat began to build where her panties barely masked the hard bit of Dumuzi that lay between them. Her lips met his, and he groaned, kissing her back. Verrie cut it short. She was getting too carried away.

  What next? Quinn prodded.

  Then I stood back and helped him strip, Verrie said, shakily. But since he’s got his clothes off, I think the next bit involved me touching his…cock, then…using my tongue on him. Verrie reluctantly slid down his body and stood a few feet back, legs shaking.

  All while I did this, Dumuzi added smokily, putting both hands behind his head and locking his fingers.

  Oh yeah. I’d forgotten that part, Verrie wet her lips, already tasting him without yet putting him in her mouth.

  More, do. If Quinn’s voice got any huskier, Verrie swore she’d be asking the girl to join them. As Verrie dropped to her knees and brought one finger up to spread the lovely moisture around the tip of his cock, that funny lighting thing she remembered happened again. The one she vaguely recalled from their first trip into the closet. A couple of the hanging jackets to their left took on a bit of a ghostly glow. Weird.

  She tipped her head forward and swiped his velvety head with her tongue. What the…? Her stark white bra lit up like…like she was some kind of black-light poster.

  Thank gods, Quinn breathed.

  Verrie spoke shakily. “Wait. What’s happening?”

  Dumuzi brought his hands down from in back of his head and brought one palm low to cup her glowing, white-clad breast. “I don’t know. It’s…compelling,” he admitted. “I’m drawn to it.”

  Verrie tried to keep down her hysterical, nervous laugh. “No shit, Muze. Any excuse to touch my boobs.”

  “No. That’s not what I meant.” He ignored her sarcasm. “Something strange is happening here.” He turned troubled eyes to Quinn. “Did you make this happen? Do you know what it’s about?”

  I know, but I not make happen. You did. You ever heard photosynthesis, Muze?

  Uh, duh. Of course, but what does that have to do with anything? He looked confused.

  You, Verrie? Quinn asked.

  Sure. It’s where a plant stores energy from the sun, Verrie supplied.

  Right, Quinn breathed out. Then attracts bees…pollinators…Chosen. She emphasized the last word, and Verrie’s brain chimed with a huge “ding-ding,” we have a winner, at the exact same moment the blank look left Muze’s face. His head-voice burst forth with the knowledge.

  Oh my gods. I don’t light up like the other guys, he gulped. My amulet is glowing for you…it has been the whole time. But it can only be seen as ultraviolet light, in darkness with white things.

  And of course his room was all done in dark, masculine colors, and they’d mostly “trysted” during the day. They’d been their own worst enemies.

  Muze turned fully to Quinn. How…why…Quinn, you are a genius. He picked her up in an enormous embrace and swung her around the confined space. She sputtered and squirmed.

  Okay, Muze. I get it. You happy. But you also naked with enormous…thing pressed into my stomach. My pretty sure Sham tear you limb from limb if he catches whiff of your scent on me.

  Dumuzi dropped her like a hot coal.

  Verrie remained on her knees in shock. He lights up for me, she said to no one in particular. Her eyes focused on Muze’s thighs. You light up for me. She reached out and touched his abdomen, reverently, then reached to find his hand. How did you know, Quinn?

  Mad eyesight skills, she coughed, trying to avoid Muze’s massive, evident prowess as his male parts bobbed and weaved from happiness. I always capable of seeing more spectrums than other people. Just didn’t know come in handy for this.

  Verrie looked up at Muze, and Muze gazed down into her eyes. She slowly rose to her feet and they moved into each other’s embrace, barely hearing Quinn’s parting words. Leave you two now to…kiss and make up. I explain things to everybody, and, uh, yeah. Well. Bye now.

  The door snicked open and clicked shut.

  There was no one in the world but Dumuzi.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “Now, where were we.” Dumuzi nuzzled Verrie’s neck and inhaled her perfect pipevine scent. “If I’m not mistaken, we’re attempting a reenactment here,” he teased cheekily.

  “Reenactment,” Verrie murmured blankly, clearly enjoying the feel of his lips nipping their way down the column of her throat. He moved back up to skim lightly across her full mouth.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Muze jogged her memory, “We’re recalling things that happened in the closet that day before Marduk distracted us.”

  Veronica finally burst out laughing. “Of course, we are. And if memory serves, my mouth was just about to get busy.” She gave his chest a playful shove. “Muze, if you want me to suck your cock, you should just say so.”

  “Oh, is that where we were?” he asked innocently. “Oh, yeah, that and…something else as well.” He grinned at her in the tiny room which presently looking like a giant black-light poster. “If I recall…I might have been positioned something like this.” Muze backed up and put both hands behind his head.

  “Ah, now I remember,” Verrie grinned. “I do believe you’re right. So, remind me of something else.” This time it was Verrie who moved toward Muze, going on tiptoe to capture his bottom lip between her teeth and give a sharp nip before she moved back. “In this little scenario, did I have all my clothes on…or off?” She was practically naked as it was, in her do-nothing bra and panties, but he needed her fully unclothed.

  “I think you were just about to remove everything,” he told her with conviction even though he knew it wasn’t true. She might disagree, but would she comply?

  “You’re a bad boy for telling a fib,” Verrie chastised and didn’t remove the damnable last scraps of her clothing. Instead, she walked around behind him and ran a soft hand over one quivering ass cheek. “You know what bad boys get for their naughty thoughts, don’t you?”

  Without warning, she landed a hard, stinging swat to his backside that surprised the hell out of him…but damned if a moan didn’t burst from his throat—that and his cock grew exponentially harder. Gods. She’d ramped up her dominance game, and who would have figured an ass-smack would turn him on? He swallowed. Perhaps everything Verrie did had the capacity to arouse him.

  “You liked that,” she purred, peeking around to take a look at his cock while running her nails across his lower back. “Well, we can’t give one cheek all the attention and have the other feeling left out, can we?”

  Dumuzi waited, holding his breath as she ducked back, steeling himself for the next slap, but it didn’t come. She was a damned minx, making him wait…anticipate. And shit if it wasn’t working. The longer Verrie held back, the more he wanted the sharp blow. He growled.

  “Impatient?” Verrie tormented. She snaked one arm to the front of him and wrapped her fingers around his ultra-stiff rod. “Perhaps a little squeeze to remind you who’s in charge.”

  As his mind took in this new development and his focus became centered on her hot little hand tightly gripping his cock, she hauled back with the other palm and slapped side number two. Damn. His penis leaped under her fingers. This was freaking hot. He’d gotten wind of some spanking scuttlebutt from a couple of his buddies, but he’d never known it would be like this.

  Dumuzi growled. Okay. Tease time was over because he needed some action. “Bra and panties off, Veronica,” he demanded through clenched teeth. “I need to be buried deep in your pussy right the hell now.”

  She dropped her stroking hand, but not to remove her remaining clothing. Verrie crossed her arms over her very fine chest.

  “What the
hell?” he managed to grind out, not happy with the way that had gone.

  “You’re taking over.” Veronica paradoxically went from dominatrix to pouty vixen. And in a fucking blink with a lick up the edge of his chest into the fringe of his armpit, she turned the tables once again. “Who’s calling the shots here… mate?”

  “Not mated yet,” Dumuzi conceded. “But okay, how about this for a compromise? Here’s what you get to do. Order me to fuck you, right now, and I won’t lower my hands.” Muze clenched his fists above his head.

  “That might work,” Veronica’s voice oozed sex appeal as she reached back for the clasp on her bra and unhooked it. Yes. The material fell away from her beautiful breasts, and Muze licked his lips. He wanted those nipples in his mouth ASAP, but when he loosened his hands and moved toward her…

  “Uh-uh.” She waggled a finger, backing up as much as she could in the confined space. “You want to fuck me? You promised to stand there. No touching.”

  Shit. This was worse torture than waiting for that ass-slap. It was difficult to think straight, but he forced himself to plug his brain back into the socket his prick seemed to have stolen. He attempted reason. Reason told him―because the mother of all orgasms was currently building in his balls―he should go without touching…for a short time if he could stand it.

  His little flirt must have felt his acquiescence because she trotted out all her womanly wiles.

  She began by running her hands up her sides to lift both breasts in his direction. She hefted their glorious weight―weight he wanted under his own palms―then spent what seemed like forever rolling her pink nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, continuing to drive him mad.

  Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, she turned her back to him, looked over her shoulder with lids at half mast, and hooked her fingers into the top of her leopard skin panties. She lowered them half an inch.

  Yeah. More. More.

  “Nope. Not yet,” she wrinkled her nose in a very fresh way. “First, I want to know how we’re going to do it?”