She stepped toward the man who asked her to call him Master and ran her fingers over the sequined horses on his mask. “I’m sorry I’m asking for such vulnerability from you, but look at it from my perspective. You’re asking me to have sex with you and make a commitment of forever when I don’t even know your name. I don’t know anything about you beyond the fact you are a great dance and I find myself really, really attracted to you. I’d rather have the freedom to make a knowledgeable choice, especially if you are asking something so major from me. Please? I will not curse you, I will not run away. I swear it upon the blood that courses through my veins. Worst case scenario, we just won’t have sex. Deal?”
The inner conflict she saw in his eyes almost ripped her heart out for him. Was he really such a terrible creature to behold? The mask he wore covered from his cheekbones to his forehead, but the rest of his body looked fine. More than fine, if she were being honest.
“Agreed, but it would be best if we move below to somewhere more open.” Master Hunter wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “The gardens will be spacious enough.”
“Spacious enough?” She managed to get the words out just before he launched them over the edge of the railing. The second floor balcony wasn’t far up, but high enough that Anya wouldn’t have risked the jump herself. The landing, far more graceful that she expected, left her breathless with excitement and her heart thudding in her chest.
Master Hunter continued to hold her, his eyes appearing to plead with her. Don’t make me do this, they begged her silently. Anya offered him an encouraging smile in return. Now that she wasn’t getting lost in his kisses, she was determined to see him for who and what he really was. There were a lot of things she could deal with, but if he turned into a psycho monster who ate virgins to stay alive, she’d have to pass. Even if it meant probably passing on the best sex she’d ever have in her life.
He released her, and stepped back with a wistful smile. “As you wish, Lady Peacock.” His voice, filled with quiet resignation, made her stomach churn with pity. But she held her emotions in check, determined to stick with her course.
The transformation was quick. If Anya hadn’t been waiting, holding her breath and staring at him expectantly, she felt certain she would have missed it. Before her stood a man, then the world flickered, blurred, like a TV losing reception. What stood before her afterward was so beautiful and yet so mundane. Her voice caught when she tried to speak. She swallowed, choked, and fought tears. This was what the visions had tried to show her. And yet she had no idea what to call him.
A horse, white and magnificent, stood before her. Its pale hide glistened in the moonlight. The mane and tail skimmed from his body in waves akin to foam, much like his hair in human form. The stallion’s muscular frame both dazzled and frightened. His neon blue gaze met her head on, daring her to judge him, waiting for her to consider him unworthy. Something about him screamed dangerous, though, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Anya took a step forward, wanting a closer look. “You’re so beautiful.” Her voice was a whisper, yet his ears pricked forward, and his stance seemed to relax. “But I don’t know what you are,” she admitted. “I’m flipping through every thing I can think of, and drawing a big, fat nothing on entries about gorgeous horses. Horse shifter doesn’t seem right. Is it?”
He stood still as she approached him, and his hide shivered under her gaze. The movement sent water droplets splashing across her face. She flinched at the unexpected moisture for a moment, puzzled, then peered harder at him. Water, like dew drops, covered his entire body in a fine mist. They dripped off his body as if he’d just stepped straight from a shower.
“Is the water from changing to this form? I’ve heard that shape shifters do this when they take on their animal form. Are you a horse shape shifter?” Anya glanced at him, her expression troubled.
His body shifted, wavered, and returned to human form. Once more he appeared the handsome masked man who’d danced with her in the ballroom. “No, I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Lady. Have you ever heard of a beast referred to as a Kelpie?”
She racked her brain for a moment, thinking, before it registered. “Yes, the Scottish mythical horse that drags unwilling victims to the bottom of lakes and swamps to devour them. I—Oh!” Anya blinked, staring at him. “I thought them only myth.”
Master Hunter shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “Would many humans not think a witch myth? Or a werewolf?”
She frowned, still trying to take it all in. “But, why haven’t I met any of you before? I’ve met a species from damn near every other type of creature that goes bump in the night.”
“We are rare.” He paused. “There are only a dozen or so left of us. Many have succumbed to the call of death. If’n we donnae meet our mates, a wasting sickness will claim us, and we die.”
Anya chewed on her lip, her gaze thoughtful as she stared at him. “Is it true,” she asked, her voice so quiet she wondered if he could hear her.
He took a hesitant step forward, reaching a hand out to trace her jawline. When she didn’t pull back, he dragged her closer, dropping his face to the top of her hair and inhaling. “Is what true?”
“Do you really drag people into the water and eat them?”
“Do you have a wart on your nose, green skin, and eat children?” His shoulders shook under her hands with barely concealed laughter.
“But, the myths—” Anya stopped midsentence, letting his words sink in. “Every myth and legend has a grain of truth to it,” she finished, her excuse sounding lame, even to her.
Instead of scoffing, Master Hunter nodded, his chin bumping the top of her head. “As with any creature, there are those that endorsed the darkest parts of their nature. And like any, it was the ones who caused havoc that forged myths and legends. I find the taste o’ strawberries or roasted chicken far more preferable then blood or the flesh of humans.”
Anya’s relief at discovering his nature left her energetic and feeling strangely brave. She tilted her head back, giving him her best rendition of a wicked grin. “How much do you like strawberries, Master?”
He frowned down at her, clearly puzzled. “I enjoy the taste of them immensely. Why do ya ask?”
Deciding to give in to her devilish urges, she leaned up, her lips brushing his earlobe. “Kiss me.” It came out in a breathless whisper.
Master Hunter’s mouth fastened on hers before she could blink. One of his arms pressed across the small of her back, his hand cupping her ass as he urged her into the kiss. The other palm cupped the back of her head, fingers splaying across her scalp. She wished, with the deepest parts of her soul, or maybe it was her pussy, that the clothing between them would just disappear.
The passionate way in which he tasted her belied his relief more than his words ever could. He nearly devoured her as his tongue stroked across her lips, dipped in her mouth, and caressed her tongue. Before they parted, he nibbled on her lips and she nearly moaned at the soft spikes of pleasurable torture his teeth created.
When he pulled back from the kiss, the corners of his mouth twitched as he fought a smile. “Witch,” he muttered. “Ye taste o’ strawberries. I wonder if anywhere else tastes o’ cream.”
“It can, if you want it to.” Anya glanced around, her smile fading. “I suppose you’ll just have to find out later. No privacy here.”
A moment later she clutched at him, biting back the urge to scream as they landed back on the second story balcony. “Is this better?” Master Hunter’s demeanor appeared nonchalant, though she could feel his shoulders shaking once more from silent laughter.
“You could have warned me,” she said.
His teeth glinted in the moonlight as he flashed a predatory smile. “I’m going to take you now. Consider yourself warned.”
Chapter Six
Anya pushed against his chest until she forced him to an arm’s length away. “I never agreed.”
“Using magi
c to make yerself taste like strawberries isnae an effective way to tell a man nae.” He brushed her arms aside and raised an eyebrow. “Kiss me again, Lady Peacock, and I will hold back nae longer. I will make you my mate, for eternity.”
Anya stared at him, her inner emotional war spilling out from her once more and washing over him in waves. The patience Hunter applauded himself for was fast becoming a distant memory to strive for. Every single cell in his body screamed for the release, peace, and happiness she could give him, and he wished there were some way he could express to her how much of that she would receive in return.
“Come here so I can kiss you, before I lose my nerve,” she finally said, and he nearly fell to his knees and praised the gods right then and there.
The words were no sooner out of her mouth before Master Hunter rained kisses down on her, traveling from her lips to her jawline, throat to collar bone. His hands ran across her body, and she whimpered in protest while plucking at the clothing between them. Hunter tugged at his gloves behind her back, letting first one, then the other drop to the floor. He flexed his fingers, pleasure thrumming through him at the silky texture of her dress against his skin.
Her fingers crept under the edge of his jacket to play with the waistband of his breeches. With little, impatient tugs, she soon had his shirt untucked in the back and began exploring the expanse of his lower back. He knew the cool sensation of water droplets greeted her skin as she caressed the muscles under her palms.
“You’re wet, Master,” she whispered against his throat.
“Aye, I’m a Kelpie.” He paused, smiling down at her. “What’s yer excuse?”
A deep blush crept across her face as she realized what he insinuated. Before Anya could get caught up in her embarrassment, Master Hunter lifted her up and set her on the railing. He raised the front of her dress, wrapping the excess so that it was under her ass, giving her more cushion and protection from the concrete.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to pull her skirt back over her exposed thighs.
His hands shackled her wrists and guided them to the front of his breeches. A small moan spilled from her throat as he forced her fingers to trace along the visible outline of his cock before pressing her palms to encase him. His cock ached, and as she gave him a gentle squeeze, she squirmed a bit. A wave of her desire hit him, and he sucked in a breath to keep from swearing.
“Och, woman, ya try me. Ye donnae ken what ye are doing. I’m going to have sex with ya right here on this balcony. I’m going to let the night witness our union as I claim ye. Now, unzip me.”
Anya hesitated, staring up at him as she swallowed nervously. Master thrust against her hand, letting his cock do the talking against her fingertips. She clasped it between her thumb and forefinger, unzipping him in a slow, steady pull.
“Good girl.”
A flush of pleasure emanated from her, replacing the embarrassment she’d been throwing out moments ago. She liked it when he praised her, when his voice dropped to that seductive purr. Funny, he’d never thought a man purring would be attractive, but obviously she did, and he loved the shivers of delight to it sent to her very toes. Surely she had no idea how much she was transmitting her emotions. It didn’t matter. They gave him a helping hand whether she intended to or not. He’d take every advantage he could get if it meant she came to this mating happily.
Hunter stepped between her thighs, the contact against her bare skin making her quiver. How long had it been since she’d had someone? A year? More? No matter. After tonight, he would be the only one in her arms, and she in his.
The pressure of his fingers under her chin caused her to tilt her head back and meet his gaze. “Are you wearing panties?”
Anya nodded.
His raised an eyebrow, but he wasn’t sure if she could see it over the edge of his mask. “Do you like them?” he asked, keeping his voice that low, masculine growl she seemed to like so much.
Again, she nodded, though her brows knit together in puzzlement. He knew she’d like her panties. What woman wore underwear they didn’t like? Especially under a dress that beautiful? But he had to play with her. He couldn’t help it. She brought out a mischievous side he’d thought long dead before tonight.
“Then I apologize,” he said.
Before she could ask what he was apologizing for, Master Hunter reached up under the small amount of skirt that still covered her just below the waist. His fingers skimmed her hip, then slid under the waistband of her panties. Anya arched upward, trying to give him room to slide them over her hips and down her legs. Before she could react, he grasped the crotch area of them firmly, then jerked them off her with a loud rip. He dangling her yellow panties in front of her face before she put two and two together.
“You-you just broke my panties.” Anya stared at them in disbelief as he tossed them to the side. “Those were Victoria Secret. They’re expensive.”
Hunter snickered. When her gaze returned from the scrap of yellow fabric that lay crumpled on the concrete floor of the balcony to his face, he noticed she fought a smile of her own. “It has been my experience,” he said, his voice sounding strained even to him, “that the more expensive something is, the easier tis to break. Ken that yer panties were very easy to break.”
“You aren’t even really sorry, are you?” Anya glared at him, but even he could tell her anger was in jest.
Her fake anger melted as his lips pressed against hers, his gloved fingers rasping against the inside of her thigh. As Hunter massaged her clit, she emitted a soft moan. He released her from the kiss, yet the edges of their masks still pressed against each other. “I’ll buy you as many panties as ya wish, m’lady,” he whispered against her mouth. “I did like rippin’ them off o’ ya, though. So much, in fact, that I think I shall be demanding the right to rip off any panties I deem necessary. It might save us a good deal o’ trouble if ya just forgo panties from now on.”
Apparently, the thought of walking around without panties, always ready for the taking, appealed to her as well. Anya writhe against his hand. She was so hot, so wet, so needy. Her reaction made Hunter wonder if he’d be able to last long enough to represent himself properly when they finally did join.
“Please…” The word came out in a breathless whimper.
“Please, what?” He straightened, putting distance between them.
“I…” She seemed at a loss for words, as if uncertain how to say what she asked for. Even without her vocalization, Hunter knew her whole being was currently in a state of want. A flick against her clit sent pleasure skyrocketing through her that pulsed from her in waves which washed over him as well. It was strange, experiencing the woman’s side of pleasure, but it certainly presented him with quite a few wicked ideas.
“I want you to fuck me.” She nearly screamed the words.
“Nae!” His voice sounded harsh, as he withdrew his hand, leaving her aching and a puzzled expression on her face. “I will nae fuck ye.” Master cupped her face and he could smell her arousal on his gloves as he stared down at her. “I will only e’er have sex with ya or make love to ya. Ye are my mate, nae some one night stand.”
Her features melted into a look of relief even as she said, “I’m sorry.”
“Then kiss my cock and make it better.” His hand smoothed a stray feather from her cheek.
Anya scooted forward, ready to obey. When he placed a hand against her shoulder, she stopped and stared up at him expectantly. “Not with those lips.” Master Hunter smiled at her, enjoying her enthusiasm now that she’d committed to the course. “I want to be deep between the lips of yer pussy.”
She reached out, caressing the bulge under his breeches again. With slow motions, reminding him of someone unwrapping a gift, Anya spread the hole left open by his zipper wider. When she explored the opening of his boxers, her touch danced feather-light against his skin. His balls ached, like his cock, and he groaned. Anya glanced up at him, and curiosity over his reaction showed in her eyes.
He realized then that she didn’t have much experience with sex. Oh, he certainly didn’t think her a virgin, but now her hesitation in the beginning made complete sense. She told the truth when she claimed to not be the kind who had one night stands. Hunter did his best to ensure his face portrayed a man who was very much enjoying himself. His breath sounded ragged, as he sucked it in between clenched teeth when she wrapped her hand around his cock and gave an experimental stroke.
With gentle care, she eased his cock the rest of the way out, watching raptly as a drop of pre-cum glistened on the tip. “Ye see what ya do to me, lass?”
Anya wrapped her hand around the base then slid upward, and Hunter suddenly understood why stallions took mares fast and hard. He didn’t know if he could stand another minute outside of her. She stared down at his cock as her hand continued to work him. After only a few strokes, Hunter tangled his hand in her hair, tugging her head back with a gentle yet firm pull.
“I cannae wait any longer.” His voice was guttural, the brogue so thick he worried she would be able to understand him.
He released her hair, slid his hand down her back, then drug her forward to the edge of the railing. Using the other hand to spread her legs wide enough to accommodate him, he stepped between her thighs. He guided himself to her entrance and paused. “I, Hunter McBrock, claim ya with a magic older than time itself. Our lives, forever bound, belong to each other now. Do ya accept the claim?”
The atmosphere that surrounded them began churning. His words hung in the air as a spell that needed her to complete it. It felt old, powerful, and more right than anything else he’d ever done in his life. It helped that they neared the thirteenth hour of Samhain, which leant its power to the magic.
“I, Anya Kindler, accept your claim.” Her voice was strong and steady, carrying no fear.
At her words, Hunter shoved himself into her wet folds, penetrating her with more than just his cock. He could sense their very souls joining. The magic around them tightened, built, until it burst over them in a wave of emotions and memories. I know you. I’ve always known you. It echoed in his head, and he knew undoubtedly that she could hear it as well. Who the thought belonged to, he had no idea. Him, her, both. All he cared was that, in this moment, they were so connected, he felt his thrusts bringing her higher and higher.
Under the Mask: A Multi-Genre Collection Page 10