Seven Seals, Books 1 & 2

by Traci Douglass

  Mira dug her fingers deep into the silky crush of his hair and held fast. She panted as he moved to repeat the same torture on her other breast. He placed a kiss on her abdomen and she clutched at him, restless and hungry. Moisture pooled between her legs. “Kagan, I—”

  His lips cut her off. He pulled her flush against him, causing her swollen nipples to rasp his chest with every move. He rotated his hips into her heated core, his kisses ferocious. “If want me to stop, tesoro, you must tell me now.”

  Mira gazed at him through dazed, heavy-lidded eyes. She wanted him more than anything, anyone in the world. Could she have him? His hand cupped her cheek before moving lower to caress her breasts, her quivering belly.

  His fingers traced inside the waistband of her jeans. “Don’t make me beg, carissima. You feel delizioso.”

  He rocked against her molten center, and Mira bowed her head. His mumbled endearments were her undoing. She gave a brief nod and pressed a shy kiss on his chest. It was all the encouragement Kagan needed. His hands cupped her ass and he lifted her off the ledge, moving them to the bedroom. Before she registered her new surroundings, Mira was tumbled down on a bed full of soft white sheets. Kagan followed, stretching out beside her. Mira ducked away, apprehension fueling a sudden glut of shyness. Kagan grasped her chin and allowed her no retreat. Poised above her, he braced his arms on either side of her and waited. “What will you have me do, Mira? Take you or leave you?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.” Her eyes met his, tears threatening to spill.

  He lowered his body to cover her with his warmth and kissed away the moisture on her cheeks. Her heart skipped. “Allow me to teach you, carissima.” She blinked up at him in confusion. Kagan smiled, settling against her with obvious pleasure. “Practice makes perfect, si?”

  At her tentative nod, Kagan gathered her close and rolled her atop him. His hand moved to unfasten the button of her jeans. “First lesson: too many clothes ruin the party.”

  He pulled her head to his for a mind-numbing kiss before rolling her to the side and making quick work of her remaining garments. He took the opportunity to suckle her breasts again before deftly tucking her beneath him once more. Her cheeks heated anew when his fingers stroked her abdomen to brush the curls covering her mound. Her stomach knotted and she tried to look away. His intent gaze held her fast. “Second lesson: there are no secrets between lovers.”

  He parted her slick folds and Mira squeezed her thighs shut, stilling his movements. Dark, repressed memories rushed in. Kagan frowned and cupped her cheek. “Piccola, tell me what’s wrong.”

  She shook her head and turned away, tears streaming unbidden down her cheeks. He removed his hand from between her thighs and gathered her close. “How badly did the bastardo hurt you, Mira?”

  She met his concerned, angry stare head-on, but couldn’t bring herself to answer. Not now. Not when everything she’d ever wanted was within her grasp and now so dangerously close to slipping away. Kagan’s eyes blazed. “Tell me, Mira.”

  Mira tried to sit up. His body kept her locked in place. “I told you I wasn’t good at this.”

  “No, piccola, you are perfect. It’s that pompinara McClaine who’s wrong. I’ll kill him for what he’s done to you. And I’ll make sure he suffers before he dies. You have my word.”

  In all her twenty-eight years, no one had ever made even the slightest remark about avenging her honor. That this man, this fierce warrior who slew demons yet held her so gently, would do so now, shattered what remained of her feeble defenses. The floodgates opened. He held her while she cried, stroking her hair until her breathing slowed. She snuggled closer when the air chilled her skin. His hands slid around her waist and he rolled to the side, spooning her. The heat of his erection pulsed against the small of her back, and she found it oddly comforting.

  Mira yawned. Kagan shut off the light and pulled the covers over them. He tucked his chin on the top of her head and she couldn’t resist a final question, her voice quiet, drowsy. “What about lesson three?”

  His contented laugh rumbled and his answering whisper was gravel-rough beside her ear. Her weary heart swelled with possibilities. “Lesson three? Never rush fate.”

  • • •

  “Mind explaining what the hell’s going on?” Xander stopped behind the petite woman at the window. She didn’t respond. He was in no mood for games. “Did you hear me, Divinity?”

  “Watch your tone, Scion.” Divinity spun toward him, her expression cold, imperious. “Remember to whom you speak.”

  Xander lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Better.” Divinity brushed past him. “Why are you so irate?”

  “Something happened tonight. At the nightclub.” He followed a few steps behind her. “The Seal’s powers are manifesting.”

  Divinity spun to face him, intrigued. She leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed her arms. “Go on.”

  “The Seal controlled the crowd, dominated them.” Xander recalled the scene he’d left and his hackles rose. “I don’t understand it. All the research said the host had to be dead for the powers to manifest.”

  “Where’s Argus?” Divinity’s intense gaze pinned him to the spot.

  “Don’t know. We’ve got a lead on where he’s staying, but I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet.”

  “He won’t go far. He’s under deadline.” Divinity said, turning to fiddle with the houseplant beside her.

  “Deadline?”

  She didn’t answer, the hesitation of her fingers over the leaves of the plant the only indication she’d heard him. When she looked up at him again, her expression changed from concern to impatience. “Is there something else you need?”

  “Why wasn’t I affected by the Seal?”

  Divinity regarded him, a trace of a smile ghosting her lips. “You’re . . . special, Xander.”

  “Special?” She made him sound like he needed the short bus. Xander was not amused.

  “Don’t you have work to do?” She pushed past him and out into the foyer.

  “What about the girl? Zoe? Is she special too?”

  He barely had time to register Divinity’s scowl before she dismissed him, flashing him back to Wyck’s apartment in the span of a millisecond.

  • • •

  Mira woke, her heart racing, surrounded by darkness. Then she felt the warmth snuggled against her back, the beefy arm locked tight around her waist, and the fingers rubbing lazy circles on her skin. Shit! Heat flooded her cheeks at her nakedness under the sheets combined with memories of the previous night’s foreplay. Mira and foreplay—those were two words she never expected to hear together.

  Kagan’s warm breath fanned her nape, his breathing deep and even. Good. If he was asleep, she might be able to escape. She inched away. His arm tightened. Damn.

  “Going somewhere, piccola?”

  Fuck. She shook her head.

  He leaned up on an elbow and gazed down at her. His fingers stroked the hair from her face, and he nibbled her ear. “We have more lessons.”

  Kagan covered her body with his. Mira shivered despite the heat, apprehension rearing its ugly head once more, making her voice quiver. “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea.”

  His lips silenced her protest. Several seconds and a few wanton moans from Mira later, he relented. “I can help you, carissima. Please, let me.”

  Mira doubted anyone could help her. She’d been broken too long. He lowered his head and kissed her again. Hope grew tiny wings and took flight. Did he care enough to try? Would she let him? Drawing up all the courage she could muster, Mira forged ahead. She would have him, at least for tonight.

  She plunged her fingers into his hair, kept his lips locked to hers. His hands drifted lower to her breasts and hips. He caressed her inner thighs, and his hand came to rest against the curls between. Her body quivered.

  “Open for me, carissima.” Her muscles relaxed beneath his questing touch, and he parted her tender core
. Kagan slipped one long digit inside her slick walls, and she gasped. “Bellisima, tesoro. You’re drenched.”

  Kagan spread the moisture from her weeping entrance upward to her most sensitive spot, and Mira’s hips rocked to meet his palm. She thrust against Kagan’s ministrations, her arousal building. He suckled her engorged nipples and ground his straining member against her thigh. Mira groaned, her eyes pressed closed. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

  He placed a kiss on her pelvis and spread her thighs wider. Mira lay totally exposed. Kagan leaned forward, inhaling the scent of her arousal. His breath fanned the dampness pooled there, and she shivered. He traced his tongue to her moist center and smiled when her hands dug into his shoulders. “Kagan! No, wait, please . . . ah, Kagan!”

  She bucked, tried to move away. He locked his hands around her hips and secured her in place to suckle her swollen clit. Her hands tangled in his hair and she cried out. A second finger joined the first inside her while he continued to drink deeply of her passion. His thumb stroked and flicked her most sensitive spot. She ground against him, her cries more intense, more frequent. She kneaded his scalp, her eyes closed. He increased his efforts, pushing her closer to the brink. Passion swelled, overtaking her world. Mira thrashed upon the pillows, desperate for release. He nipped gently on her clit and sent her plummeting over the edge, her core convulsing around him. Her climax continued, on and on. He kept his lips in place, not sparing a drop.

  When the last shudder subsided, she collapsed against the sheets, relaxed and sated. Kagan nuzzled her inner thighs and dropped a kiss on her quivering belly before leveraging above her. Mira peered between their bodies, her gaze focused on his cock. He lowered himself on top of her and clasped her chin. “You are beautiful, mio amore. I want to bury myself deep within you.”

  She gazed up at him, her expression wary. “You’re so big.”

  “Grazie,” he said, flashing a wicked smile ripe with male pride. He grasped her hand and kissed the palm before lowering her fingers to his pulsing erection. She closed a tentative clasp around his throbbing flesh. He groaned, and thrust gently against her.

  Kagan’s fingers returned to her wet folds, to caress and prepare. “And you are so ready, tesoro.”

  • • •

  Her small grip barely spanned the girth of his shaft. She stroked and he trembled beneath her touch. Dolce Cristo, he’d waited an eternity for her.

  Mira’s actions grew bolder. She traced her thumb across the smooth, blunt head of his manhood and caught the bead of moisture there before bringing it to her lips and suckling. He nearly exploded. The sight of her devouring his essence had his cock throbbing with need. Kagan yanked her hand from her mouth and kissed her hard, desperate for more. He returned their joined hands to his engorged manhood. “Please touch me, carissima. I’ve waited so long.”

  She let him guide her, teach her what he liked best. His lips claimed hers with a new urgency, a new demand behind the thrust of his tongue. Kagan positioned himself at her entrance. “Time for lesson four, piccola.”

  Mira frowned, her tone confused. “Lesson four?”

  “Hmmm.” He pushed forward, the head of his cock slipping inside her. With a strength he didn’t know he possessed, Kagan held steady, keeping the demands of his body at bay a moment longer. She rocked against him, her demands shattering his will. His words tumbled forth, rough with passion. “Take all your lover has to give.”

  Kagan slammed in hilt-deep. She arched beneath him as her body adjusted to his size. He remained utterly still, his breath fanning her flushed face while his shaft pulsed within her tightness. He’d never imagined such fullness, such . . . connection. She clasped around him, testing, squeezing. He moaned. She dug her heels into his backside, and his head dropped. He withdrew only to plunge forward again. She whimpered, her body clinging to his.

  “Cristo! You feel like heaven, carissima.”

  She met his thrusts, matching his relentless rhythm. Her softness engulfed his hardness, blunted his long-held brutal edges. A strange, foreign contentment welled within him as he reveled in her passion.

  Still, she seemed to hold a part of herself back. He refused to accept defeat, demanding all she had to give. Kagan slipped his thumb between her thighs, stroking the center of her molten core. Mira wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her heels into his buttocks. He circled against her, creating delicious friction. Sex had never been this good, this . . . sympatico. His other hand tangled in her hair and tugged her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. He drove harder, deeper, steering them both toward climax. An inexplicable urge to claim her, force her to acknowledge their growing bond possessed him. “You are mine, mio amore.”

  Mira tried to look away. He held her fast. “Say it!”

  He applied just the right pressure to her clit, and a second orgasm crashed hard upon her. She surrendered, the words erupting amidst a hoarse moan. “I’m yours, Kagan.”

  His lips crushed hers and he pounded home, seeking release. His balls tightened and his fulfillment hovered near. Teetering on the precipice, he issued a bone-deep roar. She was his, and he would keep her, no matter the cost. Mira arched beneath him as another wave of ecstasy broke and his hips bucked as desire hurtled him over the edge. Kagan’s hot seed jetted deep within her. He rambled incoherent words of desire against her skin while she convulsed around him, milking him dry.

  Once the storm passed, he gathered Mira’s limp body close and together they drifted to sleep, his arms surrounding her in gentle protection.

  • • •

  Wyck stepped over Chago’s massive body sprawled across his living room floor on his way to the kitchen. Xander occupied his sofa, snoring loudly, with one arm covering his eyes. Like old times. He fiddled with the coffee machine and pushed the Start button before flopping down behind his laptop. He checked his e-mails and spotted the results report from one of his search bots.

  He scanned the article and homed in on one area in particular. The story reported a new discovery at a genetics lab in Colorado. What drew his attention was the project’s major funding partner, Tolbert International. Wyck frowned. Couldn’t be the same company, could it? It had been over two centuries. He clicked the link. A large photo accompanied the information, featuring the two scientists heading the project.

  Dr. Samuel Una, the epitome of every geneticist Wyck had ever imagined. Not that he imagined many, of course. A middle-aged balding man lacking any hint of skin pigmentation and even less muscle tone, Una was praised as a wunderkind at the forefront of bio-agricultural research. Beside him was his partner, Dr. Quinn Strickland. Wyck grimaced with distaste.

  The photo displayed an intensely prim woman, her hair twisted into a bun so constrained he was surprised her eyes hadn’t gone all slanted behind her thick black glasses. Her pale face was a portrait of jutting cheekbones and startled offense, topped by a disapproving scowl that loomed large above her sterile white lab coat. Wyck chuckled and moved the e-mail into his saved folder. Bye-bye for now, Dr. Strickland. May you enjoy many years of unwedded bliss.

  The aroma of fresh brew filled the air. The coffee machine’s timer beeped, and the room’s occupants stirred. Wyck filled a mug and took a seat at the kitchen table in time to toast Chago on his way to the bathroom. “Morning, sunshine!”

  Chago grunted sleepily at Wyck and shuffled to his destination, only to find it already occupied by Xander. Chago pounded on the door. “Hurry up, dammit! I’ve got to piss like a stallion.”

  Xander strode out in a pair of Wyck’s baggy sweats. “Good morning to you too. Nice talk in front of the girl.”

  He jerked his head toward the bed and shoved Chago aside, heading to the kitchen for coffee. Chago slammed the door. Minutes later, he reappeared, his chocolate-brown curls standing in disarray. “What the hell time is it, anyway?”

  Wyck smiled benignly. “Six-fifteen.”

  Chago squinted bleary-eyed into the bright sunlight. “Shit! Too damn early!”
/>
  Wyck sipped his coffee. Zoe bolted upright in bed, her hair sticking out in all directions and her expression bewildered. He grinned. Yep, just like old times.

  • • •

  Kagan stretched an arm, expecting to grab an armload of warm woman. Instead, he encountered only chilly mattress. He glanced to the clock on the nightstand—six-fifteen—and listened for sounds. Nothing. Cristo! Kagan scrubbed a hand over his face and tossed away the covers. He entered the bathroom. Mira’s discarded towel lay in the laundry basket. His mind raced. She left and I didn’t hear a thing. Followed in short order by a much more troubling notion. Why’d she leave, and where the hell did she go?

  He leaned out into the bedroom. Her duffle bag was gone. Vaff! Her spicy scent clung to his skin. His mind filled with visions of her beneath him, of her tight wetness squeezed around him, of her cries when she climaxed. His shaft pulsed to life despite the situation, craving her touch. The warrior within him raged. Must find her, complete the mission. The man he’d become threw up walls faster than an Amish barn raising. Involvement was a bad idea. Xander’s rule number one: Don’t fuck the target! Merda! He needed to get to Wyck’s.

  Kagan made quick work of his morning ritual and tried like hell to avoid any down time. Time when he might ponder the shitty state of his current situation. Finished, he fixed himself a quick cup of coffee and flipped on the local news channel while he checked his messages. His attention perked when the anchor announced a set of gruesome murders at a popular nightclub. The G Spot’s neon sign splashed across the screen behind the live report. While the reporter discussed the numerous bodies discovered inside, Kagan scanned the crowd gathered.

  Interspersed among the tourists and commuters were several figures dressed in the same somber black suits, mirrored sunglasses glinting in the sun. In the far corner, a flash of chestnut curls. Cristo! Mira.

  Shortly thereafter, Argus waddled behind the reporter and flipped a middle finger toward the camera. Vaff! It was a celestial free-for-all.