Wicked is the night

by Catherine Mulvany

  She collapsed against the pillows when he finally released her. “Oh,” was all she managed to say, which didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but damn it, her thoughts were totally scattered and completely incoherent. Hard to know what she thought—if she thought—but easy to identify what she felt. Bliss. Utter bliss.

  “Nevada?”

  She forced her eyes open with an effort.

  Trick, propped on one elbow, stared down at her, smiling faintly as if he liked what he saw.

  “Mmm?”

  “You want to try that again?” He leaned down to brush her lips with his.

  She uttered an inarticulate moan. “Again?”

  “The real deal this time.”

  “Mmm,” she said. If the man could spark multiple orgasms, using nothing but his mouth and a couple of fingers, what undreamed-of level of ecstasy could he trigger if he put himself into it body and soul?

  She glanced back at Trick, who was frowning uncertainly, apparently unsure how to interpret her muted response. “What do you say, Nevada?”

  “Yes,” she told him. “Yes, please.”

  His eyebrows shot up, and fire seemed to flicker for an instant in the depths of his eye. “She begs.” His mouth twisted in a sardonic smile, and he looked—oh God—he looked every inch the pirate.

  “I didn’t beg,” she protested. “I just asked politely.”

  His smile grew into a wicked grin. “Nothing polite about what I have planned for you, lady. Take off the underwear.”

  “Yours or mine?”

  “Already lost mine,” he said.

  She glanced down and realized he had. Trick was naked. Extremely naked. Insistently naked.

  She stroked him, surprised at how warm and velvety soft the tautly stretched skin felt against her fingertips.

  His groan of pleasure seemed to restore her energy. One minute, she was lying down, sated and a little drowsy. The next, she’d stripped off the constricting underwear and shoved Trick onto his back so she could climb astride him.

  “Hey,” he muttered in a halfhearted protest. “Who’s seducing whom here?”

  She lowered her mouth to within a whisper of his. “You talk too much, mister. Shut up and kiss me.”

  So he kissed her. It started as a soft little brush of the lips, slowly deepening into a wildly arousing tangle of tongues, hot and desperate.

  He cupped. He caressed.

  She teased. She touched.

  He suckled. He spanked.

  She squirmed. She squeezed.

  But when she started to lower herself onto him, Trick stopped her. “Condom,” he said, sounding strained. He crawled out of bed to rummage through his discarded clothing.

  Nevada curled into a ball. What was wrong with her? Had she completely lost her mind? She’d almost had unprotected sex—would have had unprotected sex if Trick hadn’t stopped her. A reckless move. Foolhardy. And yet, she could hardly bring herself to care. Her body’s insistent clamoring drowned out the voice of reason. She wanted him.

  God, what was taking him so long? Her breasts ached. Her mouth hungered. Her whole body felt tingly and needy. Unfinished.

  Trick dug a condom from his wallet, ripped it open, and pulled it on. Then he all but flung himself onto the bed, and when she would have climbed on top, easily flipped her onto her back, pinning her“ck,it arms down as he drove himself into her with one long, steady thrust. His hands and mouth were everywhere at once, touching her, stroking her, tasting her, teasing her.

  “You feel so good,” he said, his voice hoarse. He nuzzled her neck and squeezed her breasts as he filled her again and again in powerful, rhythmic thrusts. Desire licked at her like flames, burning, burning. She wanted. She needed. She needed. She wanted.

  One more wild thrust and she’d ignite. Simply go up in flames.

  Suddenly, Trick pulled out of her and she moaned a protest, which he stifled with one, long, soul-searing kiss. He rolled off her, then smiling in an unspoken promise, suckled her breasts and flicked at her sensitized clitoris until she was moaning and writhing uncontrollably. She stared wordlessly when he spread her trembling thighs. She gasped when he buried himself in her.

  Then he started again. Thrust after thrust. Over and over. And once again her tension escalated, each jolt pushing her closer to the edge until at last she toppled headlong into an abyss of sensation. A burst of pleasure, intense and shockingly, frighteningly out of control, seemed to affect her on a molecular level, as if Trick’s final thrust had splintered her into a million throbbing fragments of ecstasy. Incredible. Exquisite. Like nothing she’d ever imagined.

  Neither of them spoke for a long, long time.

  When Nevada’s body finally quit tingling, when her brain finally quit spinning, when all her bits and pieces finally coalesced once more into a coherent whole, she nudged Trick’s shoulder. “Is it always like that?”

  He roused himself enough to twist his head so he could look her in the eye. “Like what?”

  She thought about that for a second. How was she to describe that tsunami of incredible sensation? “Like…wow?” she said uncertainly.

  Trick smiled. “Maybe we should try it again and see.”

  At intervals throughout the night, Trick had pleasured Nevada with exquisite care. Sometime after three, he’d finally turned out the light, and mindless, boneless, bodies snuggled close, limbs entwined, they’d both drifted into sleep on a wave of utter contentment.

  But that was then, and this was now. Nevada was ready for more. No, desperate for more. How long had she been asleep?

  No light leaked in between the slats of the blinds. Still night then. She lifted herself up so she could see the alarm clock’s glowing green numbers. Seven after five. Not night. Morning. Very early morning.

  She grazed Trick’s shoulder with her teeth, sucked at his earlobe, nipped at his lower lip. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  Moving pretty quickly for someone who’d been snoring softly only seconds ago, Trick grabbed her hand and wrapped it around his erection. “Am I going to have to use my last condom?”

  She gave him a squeeze. “What do you think?”

  “I think I need that condom.”

  He covered himself and then lay down, linkin“ay ="0g his hands behind his head. “I’m all yours.”

  Trick had tortured her with a slow seduction, but this time she was in control, and slow wasn’t what she had in mind. Straddling him, she eased him inside, then rocked back and forth, squeezing hard.

  He groaned. “Hey, take it easy.”

  “No way.” Her excitement spiked with each squeeze. His, too, judging by the sounds he made. “You feel so good in me,” she whispered.

  He managed another inarticulate groan.

  “Really, really good.” She rocked faster, squeezed harder.

  He caught the rhythm then, his thrusts coinciding with the clenching of her internal muscles. Faster and faster. Harder and harder.

  She gasped in response to a particularly well-placed thrust. “Touch me. Please.” Her breasts, she meant. Swollen and tender, they ached with need.

  He made another sound, half growl, half agreement. Then he reached up, cupping her breasts in his hands.

  “More,” she begged, leaning down toward him. So close. She was so close.

  He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then sucked the tip of the other into his mouth, licking and sucking until she was crazy with need.

  An orgasm took her, endless waves of bliss. On and on and on it went until she thought she’d die if it lasted another second, knew she’d die if it didn’t.

  Trick stilled for a second, his muscles clenched tight, then he groaned his release, and a pleasure so intense that it verged on pain, rocked Nevada in an explosive finale.

  Gradually, her pulse slowed. She snuggled close to Trick. Neither of them said a word for a long time. Then Trick shifted his position, removed the used condom, and dropped it in the waste basket. “Just so you know, that was the la
st of my protection.”

  She wriggled closer, laying her head on his chest, comforted by the steady sound of his heartbeat under her ear. “Just so you know,” she said, “I’m all out of energy. But…” She hesitated. “You were planning to buy more condoms once it’s light, right?”

  “Right.” Trick wrapped his arms around her.

  Nevada had never felt safer.

  A telephone call had awakened Daniel Snowden from a sound sleep, but that in itself didn’t explain his anger. He sat on the edge of his bed, grinding his teeth together in an effort to control his fury, an effort that was not altogether successful. “Would you mind repeating that?” he said into the phone, his voice quiet but edged with a deadly menace his political opponents would have recognized. And feared. But Sarge Collier wasn’t an opponent. He was part of Daniel’s team.

  The big vampire and former Army Ranger cleared his throat. “Billy Branson got himself dusted.”

  “That’s what I thought you said. What the fuck happened this time?”

  “Faraday, that demon hunter who used to be a deputy up north, shot Billy through the heart with a crossbow.”

  “And how did Faraday know where to find Billy?”

  “Lucky guess?” Sarge said.

  “Try again,” Daniel snapped. “You two have been feeding on humans again, haven’t you? Leaving a trail of blood a blind man could follow.”

  “No,” Sarge protested.

  Daniel jumped to his feet and strode naked back and forth across his bedroom. “No?”

  “Okay, maybe one. A homeless kid, teenage girl we found turning tricks on a street corner in Oakland.”

  “And that’s it? Just the hooker?”

  “Well,” Sarge said. “I guess maybe there was one more, though she hardly counts. Old lady we spotted sitting all alone in an all-night Laundromat.”

  “Damn it, Sarge. Where was that?”

  “Vacaville, I think.”

  “You think?”

  Sarge grunted. “Could have been Fairfield, I guess. Or maybe Davis. No.” He paused. “Davis was where…”

  “Where what? Do I have to drag this out of you one word at a time? Or are you going to tell me the whole thing?”

  “There was this smart-ass college kid, see? And he was giving Billy a raft of shit. You know Billy. That is, you knew Billy. He didn’t take shit from anybody.”

  “Killed the kid, did he?”

  “Beat him to a pulp, then drained him. We dragged the body out into the country, dumped it in an irrigation canal. Guess some farmer must have found it.”

  “It’s a damned good thing Billy’s dead,” Daniel said, “because if that stupid bastard was alive, I’d dust him myself. And Sarge?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you don’t straighten up, I’ll dust your ass. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Sarge said.

  “Where’s Faraday now?” Daniel asked.

  Silence on the other end. “I don’t know,” Sarge finally admitted.

  “Is there any chance he could have followed you?”

  “No, I don’t think so, but—”

  “Good. Confine your blood-sucking to wild animals and strays. That’s stray animals, not stray people. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Stay under the radar, and you’ll be able to avoid demon hunters.” He paused for a second or two, somehow sure he hadn’t heard the worst of it yet. “What else aren’t you telling me?” he asked at length.“skepau “Where are you now?”

  “Midas Lake,” Sarge answered, his tone a fraction away from sullen. “We did what you told us to, came back here to beat the truth out of the two guys with the Jeep. Only one guy in the house when we got here, though. After a little persuasion, he admitted the girl had been there all along, living in the caretaker’s apartment. He claimed he didn’t know where she was. I figured he was lying. Unfortunately, Billy got carried away, hit him a little too hard and he lost consciousness, so we just left him tied up, then headed over to the apartment to wait for the girl to get back from wherever the hell she was.”

  Daniel’s heart beat a little faster in anticipation of some good news at last. He licked his lips. “You eliminated her?”

  “I had her down, was getting ready to finish the job, but then all hell broke loose. Some guy came after me with a shovel and Faraday dusted Billy. I was damned lucky to escape without being dusted myself.”

  Daniel slammed one clenched fist down on the window sill. “So she eluded you again.”

  Sarge didn’t say anything.

  “You really are a worthless piece of scum, Collier.”

  “I’ll get her. I promise. Just give me a little more time.”

  “You know where she is then?”

  “No, I…the bastard hit me a hell of a blow with that shovel, addled my brains for a minute or two—”

  “A minute or two?” Daniel murmured.

  “And Faraday was right on my tail. I finally managed to elude him, pretended I was headed toward Reno, then circled back this way after I lost him.”

  “But when you got back to Midas Lake, the bird had flown.”

  “I…yes. The Jeep was gone, the house locked up.”

  “I presume you searched it anyway.”

  “I did. The place was empty, looked like they’d left in a hurry, too. I thought…the reason I called you was, I thought maybe you knew somebody who could trace the license plate, maybe report the Jeep stolen and put out an APB.”

  “Sarge, you surprise me,” Daniel said. “I hadn’t thought you capable of such a rational approach.”

  “Thanks,” Sarge said, sounding a little dubious about it, as well he should.

  “But if I use my connections, my influence, to draw official attention to the Jeep and those in it, what do you suppose might happen when at least one of its occupants turns up dead. Where might the authorities look to find the culprit?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Sarge said.

  “And why,” asked Daniel, “am I not surprised?”

  Someone thumped the door two or three times.

  Nevada woke wit“Nevighh a start. Sarge, she thought, her heart racing, but then realized almost immediately how ridiculous that was. Bad guys didn’t knock.

  Another couple of thumps on the door were followed by a woman with a thick Spanish accent saying, “Housekeeping.”

  “Come back later,” Nevada called.

  Apparently, the maid didn’t hear her because the lock clicked as a keycard was inserted.

  The door was fully open and the cart shoved halfway into the room before the maid realized her mistake. She gasped. “Lo siento. I come back later.” Then she backed out about twice as fast as she’d entered.

  Nevada didn’t blame her. Must have been quite a shock to see a man’s bare backside in a room she’d presumed to be empty. Trick lay facedown on the bed, a pillow over his head, the rest of him as naked as the day he was born. Next to him lay Nevada, equally naked but at least partially covered by the sheet. “Should have thought to hang up the Do Not Disturb sign,” she muttered to herself.

  “Hmm?” Trick said.

  “A woman from housekeeping was just here.”

  “What time is it?” He tossed the pillow aside and twisted onto his side to squint at the clock. “One thirty-six. Holy shit. I knew I was tired, but hell, we’ve got to get moving.”

  “Moving where?” Nevada asked. “We can’t go back to Midas Lake. It isn’t safe.”

  “Can’t go anywhere,” Trick said, “until we get some new wheels. You were right about the Wrangler being too easy to trace.”

  “When the maid knocked, I thought at first it was Sarge,” Nevada confessed. “Silly, I know, but…”

  Trick draped a comforting arm around her shoulders and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Not silly. Wary. And under the circumstances, wary makes a lot of sense. Wary’s what’s going to keep you alive.”

  “Alive is good,” she agreed. “But the thing is, your ch
ances for longevity would increase dramatically if you’d just go your own way. I am not your responsibility, Trick.”

  “No,” he said. “You’re my weakness.”

  Nevada felt as if he’d stabbed her right through the heart. “Look, I have feelings for you, too. I admit it, but if things were switched around, I wouldn’t insist on accompanying you.”

  “Yes, you would,” he said.

  “No,” she insisted. “Chivalry’s part of a male’s genetic makeup, the same way nurturing’s part of a female’s.”

  “Maybe so, but—”

  “I don’t want to argue with you, Trick.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “Face it, I’m a danger magnet. I don’t pretend to know why, but facts are facts. Look what happened to Marcel“penv> lo. All my fault.” She held his face between her hands, forcing him to make eye contact. “I don’t want the same thing to happen to you. This is my problem, and it’s up to me to find the solution.”

  “Or fail in the attempt,” he said, his expression grim.

  Releasing him, she nodded. “Or fail in the attempt.”

  This time he was the one to initiate eye contact. He tilted her chin so she was forced to meet his gaze. “Let’s go to Mexico,” he said. “Just you and me. We could blend in with the tourists in Acapulco or Puerta Vallarta. You’d be safe. The bad guys would never find you there.”

  She nodded. “Probably not. But I’d still be Subject 111. I still wouldn’t know who I was or where I came from. And I need to know. Can you understand that?”

  “Even if the search puts your life in danger?”

  “Even then,” she said.

  His jaw set stubbornly. “Okay, but you’re not going to launch this search on your own. I’m going with you.”

  “But—”

  His kiss effectively silenced her. Blew a few circuits in her brain, too.

  “We’re in this together.”

  “Together,” she repeated, hardly aware of what she was saying.