DARK ANGEL’S OBSESSION (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance Series Book 14)

by I. T. Lucas

  “Carol.”

  “Yes, my absentee sensei.”

  “How do you feel about taking over my classes this evening?” His talk with Edna had left a residual polite tone.

  “Brundar? Is that you?”

  “If you feel you’re not up to it I’ll cancel them.”

  “It’s not that. I can pretend to be you and whip those trainees into shape. But I’m shocked that you asked me how I felt. What happened to you? I’m thinking an alien invasion of the body snatchers.”

  Brundar rolled his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll text you the times and room numbers.”

  “You’re thanking me! I’m about to faint!”

  Brundar clicked the call off.

  Silly girl.

  Carol and Anandur would get along great. The question was whether they would get anything done, or spend all their time horsing around.

  Chapter 26: Callie

  As they left Edna’s office, Callie felt ten pounds lighter. Heck, it was more like twenty. Brundar’s cousin, the woman he’d failed to mention he was related to, seemed super capable. With those smart eyes of hers and her gentle tone, she’d projected calm and confidence that Callie had desperately needed.

  “I can’t believe the divorce can be finalized in a month.” That was what Edna had said, but Callie doubted it would go so smoothly. Shawn would not let her go so easily, not even for her share of their house. Edna had suggested offering Callie’s half in the equity in exchange for agreeing to the expedited process.

  “If Edna says it will be done in a month, it will be probably done even sooner.” Brundar opened the passenger door for her and waited until she buckled up to close it.

  He looked so different today in his fancy appointment-with-the-lawyer clothes, like some model from a menswear magazine.

  Callie slumped in the passenger chair. It was such a shame he was uninterested in her. Maybe if she had more experience, she could’ve done more to seduce him.

  Except, he might have responded negatively to her taking the initiative. Dominant men liked to be the hunters, not the hunted.

  But didn’t all men enjoy feeling wanted?

  Was she supposed to play coy and give out hints like a damsel from a different era?

  Callie wished she knew the rules of the game, but Brundar refused to tell her even the bare minimum.

  Last night, she’d tried snooping around the club to find someone who was willing to talk to her, preferably a woman, but it seemed as if the two portions of Franco’s sprawling domain were completely separated.

  “Edna liked you,” Brundar said.

  “She did? How do you know?”

  The woman had been accommodating in a professional manner, but she didn’t smile enough for Callie to feel comfortable around her. Compared to Brundar, though, Edna was like a fluffy blanket of warmth.

  He’d treated his cousin with such cold detachment.

  Callie was grateful that he acted a shade warmer with her. She couldn’t have dealt with him if he treated her the same way.

  “She didn’t interrogate you.” Brundar turned into the onramp, easing into the freeway’s slow traffic.

  “Funny you would say that, because I felt like she did. She asked me a lot of questions.”

  “None of them intrusive. Trust me, Edna could make anyone squirm.”

  Callie lifted a brow. “Even you?”

  He nodded. “Those eyes of hers. They see too much.”

  Wow, Brundar not only admitted to having a weakness but had expressed a genuine feeling.

  He wasn’t a lost cause.

  She wondered what was he hiding from his cousin’s knowing eyes. “Edna can look to her heart’s content. I have nothing to hide.” It was true. There were no dark secrets lurking in Callie’s head and no skeletons hanging in her proverbial closet.

  “Must be nice.” Brundar stopped in front of her apartment building and killed the engine.

  Was he coming upstairs?

  God, she hoped he did. Not that there was any chance of him touching her, and it would be pure torture to think about it and imagine it while he was there, indifferent, or at least pretending to be. But she wanted to spend some time with him, have him near.

  Was it because she had no one else?

  Because she was lonely?

  Her yearning for Brundar’s company didn’t make sense. He barely talked and almost never smiled. He reminded her of an old science fiction story she’d once read. It was about a humanoid robot that was made to look like a very handsome man. The thing was, the robot in the story knew how to mimic human emotions. If the story were about Brundar, the robot would’ve been a defective one.

  Broken.

  Was that what was wrong with him?

  Was he broken?

  Or was he perfect the way he was?

  Callie shook her head. She was confusing herself.

  “Are you coming?”

  She lifted her eyes to see him standing on the sidewalk with her door open, waiting for her to come out. “I’m sorry. I zoned out again.”

  A big box under one arm, he offered her his other hand.

  "What's that?" Callie pointed at the box as she took his offered hand.

  "A safe."

  "Thank you. I forgot all about that."

  “The meeting with Edna must’ve been stressful for you.”

  Callie smiled tightly. “Yeah. It was. A life-altering event.” A second one. The first one was Brundar walking into Aussie and making her an offer she couldn’t resist.

  Or perhaps it had happened even before that.

  In the club.

  Life was funny that way. Something seemingly trivial could lead to unexpected consequences. Alter the course of one’s life.

  “Your keys.” Brundar held his palm out.

  Feeling around her purse, she found the jingling pair. One to the building’s front door and another to her apartment.

  Only two keys, and neither belonging to her.

  But those keys were what separated her from the truly homeless. Tears pooled at the corner of her eyes as she pulled them out and handed them to Brundar. Standing a step behind him as he opened the door, she wiped them discreetly on the sleeve of her shirt.

  He cast her a curious glance as he held the door open for her. “What’s wrong, Calypso?”

  She shrugged, her lungs constricting as she watched him press the button for the elevator. Spending even a few short moments with him in such a confined space would be too much.

  “Do you mind taking the stairs? I hate that clunky old thing.” She wasn’t lying. Besides being claustrophobically small, the noises it made were frightening. Going up and down the three flights of stairs was nothing.

  “No.”

  It was good that he headed for the door to the staircase, otherwise she wouldn’t have known if he’d said no to the stairs or no to not minding them.

  Frustrating man.

  She followed him up the stairs, getting an eyeful of his fabulous ass muscles moving under the thin fabric of his dress slacks. His movements were so graceful, so fluid. Compared to him she felt clumsy. Callie was glad to be in a good enough shape to not get winded by the climb. It would’ve been so embarrassing.

  Spending long hours on her feet had been good for more than getting paid.

  Her keys still in his hand, Brundar opened the door to her apartment. “Go sit on the couch and put your feet up. I’ll install the safe in your closet and bring you a glass of wine to relax with.”

  “Thank you. You’re an angel.” In more ways than one.

  She hadn’t been pampered like that in… well, never. Callie had always been the one telling others to relax while she brought them things. Her father, when he would return tired from work, or when he would get sad. And then Shawn, who’d expected her to wait on him hand and foot.

  Closing her eyes, Callie heard banging noises coming from her bedroom. A few minutes later Brundar came back with an open wine bottle and two wine glasses.

/>   The man sure worked fast.

  "The safe is secured to the floor, and I left the instructions on top." Brundar lifted the bottle with a grimace and poured the red wine into the glasses. “I should get you better stuff than this.”

  "Thank you." She took the glass he handed her. “What’s wrong with that? It’s not a cheap wine. I think it was like almost twenty bucks.” At home, she used to drink the ones from the Trader’s market that went for less than four bucks and were very good for the price.

  “Let me spoil you. I think I would like it.” He frowned as if he wasn’t sure.

  She took a sip and looked at him from under her eyelashes. “You sound like you’ve never spoiled a girl before.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Oh.” She’d forgotten.

  Dominants probably didn’t pamper their girlfriends. She should strike that stupid sexual fantasy of hers for just that reason alone. When Callie started dating again, she wanted to be treated like a princess. Not the maid.

  Even at the cost of sexual satisfaction.

  She could always resort to her fantasies to carry her over. Having a nice guy who treated her well was more important than how she got her orgasms.

  Love as thy wilt. She remembered the book that had changed her outlook on sexuality, liberating her from feeling ashamed because her fantasies didn’t conform to the norm.

  “Next time I’m here, in addition to the wine I’ll bring some Chivas for me and cocktail fixings for you. I know you like the sweet stuff.”

  The wine was starting to work, relaxing more than her muscles. “You’re so sweet for noticing.”

  Brundar winced as if she’d offended him.

  Callie laughed. “You’re funny.”

  Now he really looked perplexed.

  Chapter 27: Brundar

  No one had called Brundar sweet or funny other than his mother, and that was a very long time ago.

  He’d used to love making Helena laugh. As a little boy, he’d thought his mother’s laughter was the most beautiful sound in the world.

  Anandur had gotten her sense of humor, her propensity for mischief, and her love of gossip. The red hair and his size must’ve come from his sire. Brundar had inherited their mother’s looks. Her pale blond hair, her slim build, her perfectly symmetrical features. She was a stunningly beautiful woman.

  On a male, though, that beauty was a curse.

  He should call her.

  But what would he say?

  Sorry for not calling?

  Nah. Anandur was doing the honors for both of them. His brother updated their mother on the latest keep gossip, and she returned the favor by supplying the same about the Scottish arm of the clan.

  Every Sunday, on their once a week call, Brundar would hear them talking and laughing.

  Yeah, it was better if he didn’t call. Ever since he’d been irrevocably changed, talking to Helena only dampened her spirits. She could do without his calls.

  According to his brother, Brundar was a dry stick who had no sense of humor.

  “How am I funny?” he asked.

  Calypso waved a hand. “You got that confused look on your face when I called you sweet. That’s funny. You’re funny.”

  She was slurring her words after three-quarters of one glass of crappy wine. The woman was not a lightweight; she was a featherweight.

  “Are you okay?” He frowned. “I think you’re drunk.”

  She nodded with a smile. “I am, a little, and it feels wonderful. Don’t be mad.” She pouted.

  The woman was so sexy when she loosened up. Leaning against the sofa’s back pillows, Calypso let her head drop back, which had the effect of elongating her creamy neck and pushing her breasts out.

  Like a ripe peach, sweet and succulent, she looked ready for the taking.

  “Why would I be mad?” His own words came out somewhat slurred, though in his case it wasn’t due to inebriation.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re weird. Difficult to figure out. I don’t know what makes you happy, what makes you sad, what gets you aroused… and your eyes glow.” She pointed with a finger.

  He bet they did. Every part of his immortal male anatomy was responding to Calypso’s unintentional come-hither body language.

  She giggled. “Did little Red ask the big bad wolf about his glowing eyes? Or was it their size?” She glanced down at his very obvious bulge and giggled again, covering her mouth with her hand. “Do you think it was a metaphor for something else?”

  “So now I’m the big bad wolf?”

  She shook her head. “You’re way too pretty.” She appraised him with mischief in her eyes. “You are Prince Charming.” The mischief extended to her lips, lifting the corners in a sexy smirk. “But unlike in the fairy tale. I didn’t get a kiss, yet.” She waggled her brows.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. Was she really that drunk from one miserly glass of cheap wine? Or was she angling for a kiss?

  Tempting, so very tempting.

  But if he kissed her, he would be crossing the point of no return.

  After kissing her, he would lift her into his arms, carry her to the bedroom, tie her spread-eagled to the bedposts, and pleasure her until she forgot her own name.

  A stupendously bad idea.

  “Don’t do this, Calypso. You don’t know what you’re courting.”

  Swishing around what little remained of the wine in her glass, she took a moment to lift her head and look into his eyes. “I love it when you call me Calypso. I used to hate that name, but not anymore. On your lips it sounds like sex.”

  Fates, he was losing the battle to this little girl. The mighty warrior was helpless against the charms of a woman barely out of childhood.

  She was setting his blood on fire and scrambling his brain.

  He watched with morbid fascination as she reached her finger and touched his lower lip, the scent of her arousal drowning out the last vestiges of reason and restraint.

  The predator in him surged to the surface, demanding he took over and taught her everything there was about yielding, starting with that impudent finger. Catching it between his blunt front teeth, he bit down gently, then licked the little hurt away.

  Calypso didn’t cower and pull back as he’d expected her to. Instead, her eyes hooded with desire, and her lips parted on a moan.

  He shook his head, dispelling the momentary loss of control. This wasn’t right. She was drunk, and he hadn’t explained anything, hadn’t laid out the rules. That was not how it worked in his world.

  But he couldn’t reject her either. It would crush her spirits. The wine had given her the courage to voice her wants, and if refused she might never have the guts to be so forward again.

  It would be unforgivable.

  He should kiss her, even if it could go no further than that. Just one kiss with no strings attached. Give the girl a taste of how it could be. Give her the courage to seek her pleasure and not shy away from it.

  Cupping the back of her neck, he leaned closer, his mouth inches away from her lips. “Sweetling, there is so much I need to tell you, but it will have to wait until you sober up. Remember what I told you about respect and consent? Those are not present when your brain is even marginally incapacitated.”

  She blushed but didn’t shy away from his gaze. “I might not have the courage then. I know what I want, what I need.” Her temporary bravado spent, she lowered her eyes. “Sometimes, though, I wonder if it’s worth the risk or the consequences. It would be so much easier to leave it as a fantasy. It took me forever to admit my cravings. I don’t know why I have them. I wish I didn’t. It’s hard on my self-respect. I’m not weak, and I’m not a pushover, but that’s the first thing that comes to mind.”

  He shook his head. “This is a misconception. There is a stigma attached to the women and men who enjoy submitting sexually, but those who pity or look down on them should be envious instead. Vanilla, even at its best, can’t compare. The heights of pleasure a submissive can cl
imb are unparalleled.”

  She chuckled and gulped the last of her wine. “So what are you saying? That I’m lucky to be like that?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. This is a gift, not a curse. Don’t deny yourself because of what others think. You shouldn’t deprive yourself of the experience. But make sure you do it with a deserving partner. Safety is paramount. Don’t bestow this gift on just anyone. The right man should understand that your pleasure and your needs dictate the scene. Not his.”

  “I don’t get it. You make it sound as if it’s all about me. What do you get out of it?”

  By replacing the hypothetical placeholder partner with him, she was turning it personal and making it extremely difficult for Brundar to leash his raging need.

  They weren’t talking about him.

  This was about her.

  He continued as if he wasn’t part of the equation. Because he couldn’t be. “What people fail to understand is that the dominant partner should serve the needs of the submissive and not the other way around. The pleasure the dominant derives is in direct proportion to the pleasure he or she delivers. I’m not saying that it’s like that for everyone, not even the majority of them. But the good ones know that it’s their responsibility, and that it should never be taken lightly.”

  Franco had taught him that. It was that philosophy that had made the place a second home for him as well as for the other members.

  For Brundar, there was no greater satisfaction than bringing his partners to the peak of ecstasy, and not by pumping them full of his venom. That came after—an unexpected bonus he ensured they had no recollection of.

  By this point in the explanation, most novices’ emotions would be all over the place, hovering between lust and embarrassment, even fearfulness. Not Calypso, though. She was still gazing at him with desire in her eyes, and if he was reading her right, determination.

  Damn. The lady knew what she wanted, and whom she wanted it with.

  “Can I at least get a kiss? I’m sure you don’t need a signed contract for that.” She didn’t even try to hide the sarcasm in her tone.

  Was she making fun of him?

  Did she think he was making too big of a deal of something that wasn’t?