“Then tell Marat not to interrupt because I will make you scream.” He pressed his erection against her belly with a wicked smile. “It just won’t be pain that drags the sound from your throat.”
The promise sent shivers down her spine. The alphas knew she intended to claim one of them as her mate. Knowing Zach wanted her badly enough to make the first move thrilled her. “Only in this room,” she stressed. “Out there, I will not be undermined.”
“Agreed.”
“Then what do you want me to do?”
* * * * *
Blayne glanced around the ambassador suite, far less interested in the elegant rooms than in his agitated companion. The bedrooms were identical, each large and well-appointed, with a private bathing area. Angie paced the spacious common room, her features tight, gaze continually in motion.
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” she muttered. “Why can’t I just hide out somewhere until they round up all the Shadow Assassins?”
“You can, if that’s what you really want. But every female in the notebook is at risk while the Shadow Assassins are free, and your gift can help us find them. You will feel less vulnerable once you learn to control your abilities.”
“That’s part of the problem,” she cried. “I shouldn’t have abilities. Is my entire life to be defined by the actions of a man I never even knew?”
He understood her frustration. Many areas of his life had been shaped by his parents regardless of his determination not to follow their examples or bow to their expectations. “Parents, by definition, affect our lives. Even if they aren’t there to teach and encourage us, we’re influenced by their absence.”
She plopped down in the middle of the couch, making it obvious she needed her space. “What do you know about it? Were your parents overbearing and cruel or absent entirely?”
“Those are my only two options?” He chuckled as he lowered himself onto one of the adjacent chairs. The room was large and she felt far away, but she wasn’t ready for anything more intimate. “On Ontariese it’s tradition for a man to join his life mate’s house. Wealth is generally dispersed equally between the offspring, but titles are passed down from mother to daughter.”
“Seriously?” He had her complete attention now, though her expression was guarded, impossible to decipher, she was obviously interested. “That’s backward from how it works on Earth, not that titles are much of a concern in America.”
“The Great Conflict shifted many priorities on Ontariese, but most still honor the sacred traditions. Anyway, my mother was from one of six great houses so I was given her name, cet Malaque.”
“Blayne cet Malaque.” The syllables rolled off her tongue with a pleasing cadence, at least pleasing to him. “Sounds very important.”
“Being a Master Level mage is more important to me than being part of House Malaque. One was mine by accident of birth, the other I had to earn.”
“That makes sense. But what is a ‘great’ house and why are there only six?”
“If you think in terms of the English aristocracy, my mother would be a duchess.”
Her delicate brows drew together for a moment then she suddenly arched her brow. “That’s one step down from royalty.”
“I’ll tell you a secret.” He leaned forward and continued in a stage whisper. “My sister will inherit my mother’s title, but Lor is basically a prince.”
“My sister bagged a prince. Go Tori.” She shook her head and waved away the topic. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sidetrack you. You were telling me about your parents. Your mom’s an Ontarian aristocrat. What is your father like?”
“My father was a high-ranking commander in the Ontarian military. His career was well established before he met my mother, so rather than join House Malaque, he offered her a social alliance.”
“That’s different than becoming her life mate?”
“Yes. Life mates share a soul bond that links them permanently. A social alliance is negotiated for a specific period of time and when the contract ends each are free to pursue other relationships.”
“That sounds very…regimented.”
“Regimented perfectly describes my father. He was a career soldier who knew no other life.”
“And your mother, what was or is she like?”
He wasn’t sure why she was so interested in his past, but she seemed soothed by the conversation so he indulged her. “My mother considers herself a Mystic though she wasn’t accepted for training at the Conservatory.”
Angie scooted to the edge of the couch, clearly intrigued by the revelation. “Do the people at the Conservatory consider her a Mystic?”
He shook his head. “Only those who are accepted for training earn the title of Mystic. Everyone else is merely gifted.”
“So was she proud or resentful when you were accepted by those snobs?”
He chuckled again. Angie wasn’t the first to accuse the Mystics of being elitist. “A bit of both. She’s proud of my accomplishments, but she frequently argues that the rules and expectations are unjustified.”
She stared at him for a moment, her gaze wide and inquisitive. “Is your father still part of your life?”
“He died in battle when I was eleven, but I like to think he’d be proud of me. Many Mystics are pacifists. I’m much too aggressive for that sort of philosophy. Besides, my abilities equip me well for many military functions. I’ve spent nearly as much time at the City of Tears as at the Conservatory.”
“The City of Tears? You’ve used that title before. Is it some sort of army base?”
“It’s the overlord’s headquarters and largest military compound on Ontariese. Actually, it’s not on Ontariese. It’s on one of her two moons.”
“And your abilities?” She crossed her legs and encouraged him with a smile. “What exactly are they?”
“It’s considered rude to ask.”
She shrugged, appearing more relaxed than she’d been since he met her. “I’ve been ‘considered’ all sorts of things. I know you’re telepathic. I’ve heard your voice inside my head. You can obviously teleport, but what was with that tunnel thing?”
“Teleportation is moving instantaneously from one place to another. Creating the ‘tunnel thing’ is called Summoning the Storm. The portal connects two different places in space and time, allowing objects or information to be moved from one location to the other.”
“You can travel through time?”
“Why?” He arched his brows dramatically, amused by her apparent awe. “Is there a different place in time you’d like to go?”
A shake of her head was her only response for a long tense moment. She stared off into the distance, quiet and still. “What else can you do?” She shifted her gaze back to his face. “What makes you so valuable to the military?”
“Creating interdimensional portals isn’t enough?” he teased. Mystics were taught to be secretive. It should have felt wrong to confide so much in someone he didn’t really know. But Angie was different, unique in a way he couldn’t quite define.
“It would be enough on Earth. Somehow I think it takes more to impress the people on Ontariese.”
“I’m a tracker,” he admitted. “I can identify and follow energy patterns. It’s a common gift, but I am uncommonly good at it.”
“That’s what you were doing on Earth? You were trying to track the Shadow Assassins?”
“Unfortunately, ‘trying’ is the operative word. Shadow Assassins have nanites that jam our technology and interfere with many of our gifts. The energy trails I usually follow are scrambled by their nanites.”
“Then how does Drakkin expect me to find Nazerel? Won’t his nanites prevent me from locating him?”
“Your gift is different. Or at least we’re hoping it is. There’s a strand of energy linking your mind to his. The strand isn’t substantial enough to do anything, but we’re hoping it will serve as a guide, that it will lead you to his current location.”
“What’s keeping him from
following the strand to me?” She sounded uncertain and fear crept back into her eyes.
“If he had your gift, angel, we’d never have escaped him.”
“Comforting thought.”
She’d had plenty of time to calm down. He needed to start her training. There was no telling what her first vision would reveal. She needed to control the images and not be overwhelmed by the sensations. He held up his hand and smiled. “Come here.”
“Why?”
Her automatic stubbornness made him smile. “Because you can’t touch me way over there and you must touch me if you want to learn how to transfer energy.”
“Why do I need to know how to transfer energy?”
“A newly activated gift will drain your energy stores. Your body will not be able to metabolize food fast enough to keep you strong. Now come over here or I’ll come over there, and if I come over there, I doubt I’ll stop with a simple liplink.”
A smile curved the corners of her mouth as she pushed to her feet. “What if I don’t want to stop with a simple liplink?”
She used seduction as a defense mechanism. He’d seen her do it too often not to recognize the fear in her gaze. Rather than respond to her provoking question, he remained seated and tried to focus on the task at hand. But her hips swayed and the subtle shift of her breasts hinted at her lack of undergarments. Did the woman even own a bra?
“Now what?” She stood directly in front of him, her jeans brushing against his knees.
“Straddle my lap.” He ignored the odd catch in his voice and kept his hands firmly planted on the chair’s padded armrests.
“Should I undress first?”
“Only if it will make you more comfortable. You need to be able to touch my skin, but complete nudity isn’t necessary for this exchange.”
“Too bad.” She pressed her teeth into her bottom lip as she climbed onto the chair. Her knees pressed into the corners and her rounded behind rested lightly on his knees. “Like this?” She placed her hands on his shoulders and stared into his eyes.
“Push up my shirt and place your hands against my chest. Skin-to-skin contact creates a stronger connection.”
Awareness pulsed between them, hot and electric. It was all he could do to keep his hands on the armrests and maintain his professional façade. She pushed up his shirt and ran her hands over his chest and abdomen before curving her fingers around his shoulders. He swallowed hard, praying she didn’t notice his rapidly hardening cock.
“For a mind to absorb energy it must be open and accepting,” he told her. “Until you learn how to intentionally lower your shields, a distraction is needed.”
“Are you going to kiss me again?” She leaned in and caressed his lips with her warm breath.
“No. You’re going to kiss me.”
She required no other prompting. Her lips brushed over his, warm and soft. He closed his eyes and scanned her mind, assessing her emotional reaction to the exercise. Desire, dark and consuming, had overtaken her fear. She used sensuality as a shield against less-welcome emotions, but she was a genuinely passionate person.
He sank a bit deeper, establishing a stronger connection. Then he gently pulled tendrils of energy into his being. Did you feel that? She nodded without completely breaking the kiss. Try and do it to me. See if you can pull my energy into you.
Her lips settled over his and her tongue stilled. She framed his face with her hands and inhaled deeply. Energy swirled within his mind then surrendered to the gradual suction of her will. She tore her mouth away. “I did it, didn’t I?”
He pulled her back down and took control of the kiss. Push your thoughts into my mind. You must concentrate on the metaphysical.
I’ll try.
He chuckled. You did more than try. Your mental voice was strong and clear. For a moment he just kissed her, enjoying the slide of their lips and the playful stroke of her tongue against his. Then his conscience stirred, reminding him that there was a purpose to their intimacy. Use only your mind this time and take energy from me again.
In less than an hour she was passing energy back and forth with little effort. Their liplink was no longer necessary, but he couldn’t make himself pull away. His hands had long since abandoned the armrests and one sneaked under her shirt to explore the softness of her bare back. The temptation to work his way around to the front and caress her unbound breasts was nearly overwhelming.
“Is this still training?” she whispered against his parted lips. “’Cause it feels a lot like making out.”
Shame banked the fire smoldering inside him and he eased her away. “You’re right. I apologize.”
“I wasn’t complaining.” She smiled, her eyes vivid blue. “I was enjoying myself immensely. I just didn’t want to take off my shirt if we were still playing teacher and student.”
He groaned and yanked his shirt down then closed his eyes. It was way too easy to picture her breasts. He’d been imagining her naked ever since she strolled out of Tori’s bedroom with her shirt unbuttoned. “This isn’t a game. I’m your mentor and protector. A certain amount of intimacy is unavoidable, but I can’t have sex with you.”
“Why not? We’re consenting adults. It’s no one’s business but ours.”
She sounded genuinely disappointed so he opened his eyes. “As long as I’m your mentor, it puts me in a position of power. That dynamic is too easy to manipulate. I won’t take advantage of you.”
“You’re not taking advantage of me. It’s just sex.” Despite her claim, she climbed off his lap and moved away. “We both need the release. It isn’t any more significant than that.”
Feeling her absence with his entire body, Blayne clenched his fists. “That’s a human attitude. It doesn’t work that way with Ontarians.”
“And why is that?” She crossed her arms over her chest as defiance raised her chin.
“If we had sex, the link connecting our minds would expand. You would feel everything I feel, every sensation, every emotion. It’s impossible to remain casual about that sort of intimacy.”
She shrugged, mocking him with her indifference. “I’ll risk it.”
He sprang like a coiled snake, focused and deadly. His arms wrapped around her as he kicked her legs out from under her. She cried out and grasped his upper arms, expecting the carpet to slap her back hard. His knee absorbed the force of their fall and he carefully lowered her to the floor before arranging himself on top of her.
Kneeling between her legs, he drew her arms above her head and secured them there with one long-fingered hand. She didn’t really struggle. This is what she’d wanted after all. She just hadn’t expected him to be so aggressive about it.
His mouth claimed hers in a kiss far different from the ones they’d shared moments before. His tongue parted her lips and filled her mouth with one forceful thrust. Wild and demanding, he rocked his hips against hers as his tongue moved in her mouth.
Heat cascaded through her body and her mind seemed to crackle with excess energy. Then their link buzzed to life and emotions streamed into her being. Hunger. She felt ravenous and restless, desperate for more than a fleeting release. She wanted to wrap herself around him, to fill the endless void with passion and tenderness as he surged into her aching body.
“Does this feel casual?” Searing need accompanied the question, but he didn’t give her time to reply. His mouth swooped down and silenced her again.
She moaned and arched, trying to bring her nipples into contact with his chest. The emptiness between her thighs became painful. She needed him inside her, now. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him tight against her body.
In me. Please!
Rocking back onto his knees, he frantically unfastened her jeans then tore off her boots and socks. She drew her legs up as he pulled her pants down, making the maneuver easier. Her panties came off with the jeans and she ripped her shirt off over her head, leaving her naked and panting.
His gaze bore into hers as he pushed two of his long f
ingers into her wet core. She arched into the thrust, taking him as deep as his fingers could reach. She tightened her inner muscles, reveling in the fullness. It was a far cry from what she really wanted, but it felt amazing just the same.
She kept her knees bent, legs spread, shameless in her abandon. He pumped his hand, sliding his fingers in and out. His heated gaze focused on her sex and possessive pleasure blasted into her mind. It excited him to see his fingers thrusting into her body, knowing he had made her this hot, this wet.
Overwhelmed by the emotions twisting his expression and inundating her mind, she closed her eyes and imagined his cock in place of his fingers. This was just sex. It felt good for a while, but it meant nothing, changed nothing.
As if in response to her thought, he growled and drew his fingers out.
“Blayne!” Her eyes flew open and she pushed up with her feet, thrusting her needful sex closer to him.
He pushed her legs toward her chest and lowered his mouth to her crease. She cried out with the first brush of his tongue then her breath caught in her throat and she could only moan. His tongue traced her slit, teasing her opening before moving higher to circle her clit. He accented the emptiness deep inside her while building the tension swirling through her. She’d never needed to come so badly in her life.
She grasped his hair and ground against his mouth, but he quickly draped her legs over his shoulders and caught her wrists. He pulled her arms beneath her and continued his slow, sensual exploration of her folds. He touched her clit just often enough to keep her senses simmering without allowing her to climax.
She arched and wiggled, determined to bring his kiss back to her aching clit. “Stop teasing me!”
He pushed his tongue deep into her core then slowly swirled. Sensations spiraled along her inner walls and her clit twitched against his upper lip. Be still. Enjoy what I give you.
It felt strange to remain passive yet responsive. She was usually more sexually aggressive than her lovers. But Blayne obviously needed this from her. She relaxed, allowing her body to follow his lead. His tongue slid in and out, his lips caressing her folds.
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