My Immortal Assassin

by Carolyn Jewel

  His instincts, it seemed, were not so untrustworthy as he thought.

  He had not, as he had feared, lost sense of himself as an individual. Their psychic and physical boundaries remained. He was able to separate himself from her and yet he remained aware of her with a vividness that defied his ability to describe. At the same time, the distinction between her magic and his blurred. Gray was more alive in his head than anyone ever had been. More, even, than Nikodemus.

  Gray slipped an arm around his shoulder. “No,” she said in his ear. “You aren’t alone, Durian.” Her lips brushed his earlobe and then nipped. “Not even when you’re sure you are.”

  She drew back. A drop of crimson glistened on her lip. He licked it away, and she pressed forward, and her skin was warm against his and her lust for him so inviting. She’d never been very shy about that, had she? Not even when she knew exactly what he was; a killer. And what he had been; enslaved.

  He held out a hand, and she put her fingers on his palm. Without the need for words they used the silence to assess the change. The separation between them consistently blurred, though it was quite possible to keep the boundaries clear. This was him, and that was her. He suspected learning to do that would take some practice.

  She ran a finger along the already healing cut on her throat, and he felt an echo of that touch. Her eyes closed halfway. Her physical sensations continued to mirror in him, and that was indeed something they must learn to deal with. He felt the icy pinch of the cut he’d made in her skin, caught the memory of her physical reaction to the taking of blood. She was not, he discovered, entirely at ease with the process.

  She looked up with a steady gaze. “I don’t regret anything.”

  He needed a moment to work out which one of them had spoken. A different problem arose when he managed to properly assign the various boundaries between them; the psychic, the magical, and the physical. Once he had placed himself in his body, and in turn, her in hers, his awareness of their differences intensified. Differences of origin, of bodies, of mind, and of gender.

  He touched her, stroking her soft skin and feeling the pull of his kind for hers. When he had sex, he was always the one in control. Always. He never desired his partner more than she desired him. He never wanted more. He’d never given more, either. Now, all that changed. He wanted Gray beyond anything in his experience. He leaned in and kissed her.

  For about ten seconds, they were fine. Then he was in her head, or maybe she was in his, and all he wanted was her. He undid the knot that held together her shirt and, God, yes. She groaned when his hands found her breasts. Her head fell back, exposing her throat to him again, and he bit her. Not hard, but enough. She gripped his wrists, pulling him toward her, and his desire bubbled up and intermingled with hers, or maybe it was just the opposite.

  In the next moment, she was on her back and he’d pulled himself over her and he was taking more blood. One of his hands slid down her belly to work at her pants while his entire body rippled with incipient change. That was him crooning to her, bringing her into his desire. Desperate that she could feel the way he did.

  He pulled back and her ice-blue eyes fluttered open and then focused on him, laser sharp. He said, “I have a perfectly acceptable bed.”

  “So you do. Let’s go.”

  He led the way to the bedroom. Once there, he pushed the door closed and pulled her into his arms so fast he had to lean against the door to keep his balance. They kissed for a ridiculously long time, and he kept his hands busy moving over her, underneath the back of her ruined shirt, back to her navel, over her breasts, down to the charm dangling from her navel.

  It was all he could do to maintain his human form. He pushed off her shirt and bra then dropped to his knees, drawing his palms down her body, along her belly until he came to the waist of her jeans. The metal of the button was cold to his touch. He got her fly open, and he pressed his mouth to her navel and tongued the silver skull. She was soft and warm and he was unbearably aroused. He was cracking open, giving himself over to his impulses.

  He circled his fingers around her right elbow and moved his fingers down her arm, touching, brushing, sliding along the markings that formed and reformed beneath her skin. His head filled with images of him sliding into her body when he wasn’t human.

  “Durian,” she said, and his name was a plea that sent his lust into a tighter spiral. Through the magic that swirled just beneath her skin, he heard the thump of her heart hard against her ribs, her breath quickening, her anticipation. Her need.

  He tugged her jeans down, and she helped him get them off, and then he leaned in and nipped her belly with teeth that were perhaps sharper than they ought to be. So close. He was so close to changing, and it was getting hard for him to remember why he shouldn’t change. He picked her up and carried her to the bed.

  This was going to happen between them. She understood what that meant for them both. He had her consent, and he was more than willing to accept the consequences. There wasn’t any going back. She was his. Gray stretched on the mattress, arms above her head, toes pointed. Even when she was done stretching, he stayed distracted, arrested by all the curves of her body and what he wanted to do to them and with them.

  Durian pulled himself over her and kissed his way down her belly. “If I bought you something for that thing in your navel, would you accept it from me? As a gift?”

  She reached down and flipped the skull charm, but looked at him from under her half-closed eyes as she did. “Could we talk about my tastes first?” She smiled at him. “Nothing gaudy.”

  “I have a number of loose stones.” He slipped a hand along the inside of her thigh and followed that with kisses, paying a great deal of attention to her reaction so he could savor that and push it higher. “Sapphires. Spinel. A few emeralds. Some fine yellow diamonds. Among others. You choose. I know a jeweler who will make whatever you describe to him.”

  She brought up one knee and crossed her arms behind her head. She knew his secrets. He had nothing left to hide from her. He was a killer, and she knew that. He had been mageheld, nearly killed in a ritual murder and she knew that too, and did not blame him as he had blamed himself for so long.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” she said.

  He studied her without bothering to look at her face. Her knee shifted just enough and he set his fingers on her mons. He could lose his mind with her and it wouldn’t matter. “Very.”

  The skin down his spine rippled and incipient pain quivered along his shoulder blades. She knew what that meant. Her tension flowed into him. He pushed back while he was kneeling between her legs. They were so closely linked right now that he was getting images from her. Of her and Tigran. Of him the day Nikodemus had bound her over. From the acuity of his vision, he knew he was closer to changing than was safe for her. Or him.

  “Gray.” He realized then that she wasn’t afraid or panicked or repulsed. And that there was nothing she needed to be protected from. She knew the risks. Better than any human woman, she knew the risks.

  She held his gaze, then slowly lowered her eyes to his torso, his belly. His penis. She didn’t just let him know what she was thinking. She actively imagined what she wanted him to do to her, and how the hell was he supposed to suppress his reaction to those pictures of her accepting him into her body? She slid a bare foot along the outside of his thigh and smiled a lazy, lush smile while she thought about what she wanted to do to him. He looked at her, so beautifully naked, all the muscles of her body and the passion and desire coming back to him along their link.

  “I can change back just before,” he said.

  “You could.” Gray held his gaze. “Or we could take our chances.”

  He wanted to.

  “After everything Tigran did to me, what if I can’t even have a baby?” She put an arm around him and brought him close. “Don’t go acting like this was never a possibility. It was from the start, and you know it. From the minute I sat on that couch and said I’d swear f
ealty to you, this was a possibility between us.”

  “There’s a difference—”

  She pushed him back to stare into his face. “I’ll tell you the difference. The difference is this time I get a choice. And I choose you. I choose us. If you don’t want this, then okay. But if you do, I’ve already made my choice.”

  He threw back his head until he was looking at the canopy, allowing his feelings to flow through him to her and back, and while he was doing that, she sat up and her hands skated over him. Touching him with the silk of human skin. He stretched his hands upward as he straightened and flickered into her head. He stayed in his body, though he saw with her eyes. One of her hands slid down his belly to his cock.

  When her hand gripped him with exactly the right pressure, he let out a sound that was part growl, part groan.

  The connection between them went hot with desire.

  The traceries along her arm and temple glowed an unearthly green. “Do you want children some day?”

  “I’ve never thought of it. Not in years.”

  “It’s all right if you don’t.”

  He touched her cheek and she turned her head and nipped his finger. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or remind you of Tigran. Or bring back memories that are unpleasant for you.”

  “Do you ever learn? If you do any of that, I’ll tell you.”

  He leaned in and bit her, and, yes, his teeth were sharper now, but he was in control of himself, and he kept tasting her while with his other hand he reached down and pushed her back until her body, pale against the dark coverings, lay beside him.

  “Jesus, Durian.”

  He laughed to himself. To his long-dead god.

  “Your choice now,” she whispered. “Just make love to me.”

  He moved over her, his hips adjusting, her legs opening for him. Without preamble, he pushed inside her slick, hot body. He was still human. Barely. The pressure of her around him took his thoughts away from much besides this.

  Better than before, and all the before with her had been very good. He got a hold of one of her hips and with his other hand gripped her head, and he was inside her body with her back pressed into the mattress, her arms holding him, and him so close. So close.

  CHAPTER 31

  Gray drew a breath as the weight of him on her increased, the texture of his skin changed. The heat of him sizzled where their bodies touched. Their psychic link went white hot and for a moment her vision cut out. She blinked and her sight was back because she was using Durian to see.

  Colors were more saturated than she was used to. Gold underlay his copper-red eyes and bled into the whites of his eyes; she’d seen his eyes do that before, but never at such close range. Never while he was holding her. His breath came harsher now, and for a moment, she couldn’t think. Maybe she didn’t want to think.

  His body was dark, dark, copper and, as with his eyes, flashes of gold gleamed as if there were shifting pools beneath the upper layers of his hide. He was just as beautiful as she remembered.

  She bit her lower lip, but she didn’t hold back her reaction, and that brought a growl rolling up from his chest. The scar down his chest remained and she trailed a finger along the twisting line. “I’m screwed up. I guess you know that.”

  “You are exactly as I prefer.” Durian pressed his palm to her cheek.

  She turned her head and kissed his wrist.

  He circled her right wrist with a hand and she saw a flash of black teeth and tongue when he brought her arm to his mouth and traced one of the twisting whorls on the inside of her forearm. The effect was electric. He seemed to have known it would be, too. She couldn’t suppress a gasp. He turned his head until he caught her eye. “Do you like that?”

  She nodded.

  “Mm.” He went back to using his tongue to trace the whorls. Her own markings were moving now, the way the gold did underneath his skin, which was a fascinating similarity. He nicked her arm near the crook of her elbow. The touch of his tongue on her skin, the psychic echo as he tasted her blood, sent a shiver through her. He made a low sound in the back of his throat, and pressed her onto the bed, though he kept his mouth on her arm. He bit her again. The sharp pain didn’t hurt the way it seemed it should, and then he braceleted both her wrists and pulled himself over her. Heat from his skin soaked into her palm, into her pelvis where his lower body pressed against hers.

  His face and body were unhuman in a way that took her breath. You might turn the pages of some medieval manuscript and find creatures that looked like him; fanciful images—so humans supposed these days—drawn by some human scribe who had rendered his vision in disturbing and sensuous detail.

  She was even more aroused than when he’d been human, but then she’d known that would happen. Not repulsed. Not horrified. Nor afraid. Aroused. She wanted him this way. She wanted the danger and the beauty and lethal power of him. Her choice.

  Durian lowered his head to her, nuzzling her belly and then sliding his mouth—such an unexpected sensation—up to her breast. She bowed off the bed at the pleasure of his mouth there, tonguing her nipple.

  Gray pushed at his chest, and he let her push him away. She sat up, and he did the same, sitting on his haunches while she touched him. His skin was thicker, a smooth copper hide that was soft beneath her fingers. Muscle and sinew stood out in corded relief. There was no mistaking his strength. He had no hair anywhere, the tips of his ears lay flat to his head and when he opened his mouth his jet black teeth were sharp. His tongue flicked out to touch the side of his mouth.

  He was different. His body was bigger, rougher, not quite as gentle, and she loved that about him. She spread her palm flat to his torso, just below the end point of his scar, then slid her fingers up until she touched his nipple. His eyes flashed bright copper and when she leaned in and licked him there, his hand came up to close over the back of her head. Talons pressed into her scalp. His other hand cupped her bottom.

  He wasn’t Tigran. He wasn’t forcing anything. There was no compulsion but what came from her own desire.

  His talons skipped along the side of her spine while she moved to his other nipple, licking, tasting and breathing in the heat of him. She slipped a hand between them and when her fingers circled his balls he spread his thighs enough to give her better access. She worked to keep her magic at a minimum because she knew what he wanted right now, when he was in this form, was the human part of her.

  “Have I ever told you,” she said, rearing back just enough, “how much I love the male anatomy?”

  “No.” His voice was deeper, rougher, and when he spoke she saw the sharp tips of his canines and incisors.

  “Maybe I should show you.” She curled her fingers around his cock.

  “At your peril,” he said. He reached out and hooked a tip of a talon through the ring that connected her skull pendant to the steel bar just above her navel.

  The tug on her belly sent a zing of arousal to all the right places. She stretched her hands over her head and watched Durian’s eyes fix on her breasts. “I’ve been told I give good head.”

  He cocked his head to one side and spread his hands wide. Gold shifted underneath his hide and wherever it did, the color highlighted the scaled markings on him.

  His cock was different in texture and she savored the heat and salt, the flex of him in her mouth, the way his body stiffened, how his hands pressed the sides of her head and let her know when he wanted more force from her, more tongue. She reached with one hand and used her thumb to press against his anus. Her heart thudded in her chest when he let out a low, feral growl. His hips pumped forward and she took him deeper into her mouth.

  She licked her way up his belly and chest, back to his nipples, his throat. He stretched his arms over his head and grabbed the top of the bedstead. The muscles of his upper body contracted with the tension of his grip. She straddled him and he bowed toward her when she lifted herself and brought his cock into her. She knew he wanted something else. Something more between them. Hi
s nature needed an edge between them but he was holding back.

  This was nothing like what had happened to her with Tigran. There wasn’t anything in her head that whispered softly of the horror of her life. Nothing in her fought the arousal she felt. No guilt. No hatred. She did not hate herself for this. He sat up, keeping a hand against her spine and himself inside her and kissed away her tears, a soft touch of his tongue to her skin.

  Their eyes locked when he leaned back.

  She could choose this. She did choose.

  She put her hands behind her head and arched her torso toward him. After a slight pause, he did what she wanted, which was to kiss her breast, bringing her peaked nipple into the heat of his mouth with a pressure that set her on the edge. The pressure of his mouth increased; he held her tighter, pushed harder into her body, and she went right along.

  “More,” she said. “Durian. More.”

  He turned her over. The ferocity of his desire was in her, too, along with the knowledge that he was aroused by the gleam of her pale human skin. She saw what he did. Felt it. When he entered her from behind, he growled, a long low sound that sent a quiver of arousal up her spine. One hand spread over her back while the other held her hip, keeping her steady as he thrust into her. She pushed back to meet him. Harder and faster and she felt his body change again.

  The weight of him was different. Denser. She started to come, so close. She was seconds from orgasm when he withdrew.

  Then she was flat on her back and he pushed inside her, his big body straining to get deep inside, and she did come, in one long rolling wave of pleasure that he rode with her, drawing out the peak until she thought she’d never survive. When she could breathe again, she met his gaze. His eyes burned like fire and she grabbed his head and bit the side of his neck where he’d opened up a cut earlier. His blood tasted richer to her. She lifted her hips to his and let go. This time it was real. She wanted Durian. He wanted her. Her. Her. Her.