A Killing Moon

by Alexis D Craig

  “Get your nap in, because you know tonight’s going to be nuts,” she admonished him. She’d watched as he’d taken no less than six calls regarding coordination of the night’s security.

  “Will do, ma’am. See you this evening.”

  When she walked in the interior antechamber door, Cora was greeted by a sight that made her giggle even as she appreciated the view. Standing on the coffee table, Finn posed there as three Trochilidine flitted around, hemming his pants legs and attending to the length of his tux cuffs.

  “No one ever told you not to put your feet on the furniture?” she teased as she dropped her bag of shoes by one of the armchairs and draped her garment bag over the back.

  One of the hummingbirds looked up at her voice. “Miss Westgate, yes?” She was bright eyed, green-haired, and could not have been older than twenty-five. She was armed with a pincushion wristlet and a utility belt that looked menacing in its sewing content.

  “I am,” she answered cautiously.

  The girl smiled and offered a forthright hand. “I was told to expect you. You have your dress? I’m here to assist in your styling.”

  At her silent blinking, Finn barked a laugh but didn’t move. “It’s easier to just give in to them, they’ll just outrun you and outlast you.”

  Cora sighed, already over the night and it hadn’t even started yet. “Good to know.” Taking the young woman’s hand, Cora smiled. “Nice to meet you, the dress is in the bag. Do you have any tape?”

  Finn looked vexed. “Tape?” and all the women in the room just snickered.

  Okay, so this wouldn’t be quite so bad.

  * * *

  FINN

  The benefit of living in the palace was that he didn’t have far to go to get to the gala in a timely fashion. And he didn’t have to run the paparazzi gauntlet if he didn’t want to. Finn truly never wanted to.

  However, it was also less time for him to get used to Cora in that mind-bending, religion-altering dress that sure as hell deserved all the press coverage it could get. To be fair, the press coverage would be more coverage than the whole dress itself, and he wasn’t even a little bit upset. She was his, dammit, and he wasn’t worried about a damn thing.

  When she’d walked in the door, he had no idea what to expect from her garment bag from Chanel. When she’d put the floor length sapphire blue silk dress on, Finn’s lungs took a powder. The soft-looking, shiny fabric gathered on one shoulder with a jeweled neckline cut to the waist across her chest in a teasingly serpentine angle and then opened to a slit that started midthigh and cascaded down to the trumpeted hem, artfully draped open back, and shrink wrapped so closely to every single, solitary curve that she required both tape and a lack of underwear. She was a fucking vision coming and going and he’d needed to take a moment to learn about breathing again. Even then, he wasn’t especially good at it.

  Cora was on his arm, all that sexy brown skin on display with that walk that could crush empires, and Finn could not have been happier if there were three of him. Instead he walked the red carpet. Talked to the select few reporters who’d been tasked to cover the event. Cora deserved to be shown off, and he was happy to let her have the limelight.

  She was in fine form, completely at ease with foreign officials and celebrities alike. Her ability to blend in and mimic the tone and vibe of the room was amazing to see up close and that was with him knowing about the glamour. To the outside world, she was just this ridiculously sexy socialite he happened to be dating, making him the envy of damn near every man and several of the women in the room.

  “That dress is going to haunt my dreams for weeks,” he rumbled in her ear as he held her chair at the head table.

  Ever the tease, Cora lightly trailed her fingernails down his neck to his chest, the barest hint of sensation leaving him tense and on edge. “Then I should make it memorable, no?” She shimmied, a reminder that she was one good deep breath and poorly applied piece of tape away from a wardrobe malfunction and in its own perverse way, it turned him on like nothing else. He’d never seen himself as a public sex kind of guy, but tonight her very presence was making him reconsider.

  Brendan was announced and the whole room applauded the crown prince, as was his due. He almost tripped as he walked past Cora and she curtsied, giving him a view to die for, though to his credit he held up, his cheeks a bit flushed as he took his seat next to a supremely salty-looking Aunt Gwen. Part one of the event was finished with all was proceeding without incident.

  The food was catered from an outside vendor, thankfully, meaning that they could eat without fear of contamination or poisoning, though he made sure she signed off on it before he did so. Last thing he needed was to keel over in such a public venue. Not that he anticipated his brother being so brazen, but it was best to expect the worst where he was concerned.

  “How long do you want to be here?” she whispered as the salad course was taken away. So far, Brendan had only made one strafing run to the bar and everything appeared to be going well.

  “Long enough to speak to enough people that we can honestly say we were here, and then I can get you back to the room and learn the intricacies of that dress.” He cleared his throat and sipped his wine as he smiled blandly at the former governor of Massachusetts and current Liaison of Shifter and Human Relations for the European Union.

  Her snort of amusement next to him was music to his ears. “As you wish, Highness.”

  * * *

  CORA

  The dress wasn’t exactly comfortable, but there wasn’t enough of it there to qualify for discomfort exactly, so she’d call it even. There’d been no shortage of men eager to make her acquaintance, to Finn’s amusement, and more than a couple women had complimented her and asked about the engineering. It was a girl thing.

  Her preliminary tour of the room found her introduced to several heads of state, their spouses, and while she didn’t get a formal introduction, there were the heads and leg-breakers of several crime families also in attendance to celebrate with the crown prince. Quite the interesting mix of guests.

  Her sisters were in attendance. She’d seen them off on the fringes across the room with their spouses. It probably should have bothered her that she couldn’t think of their last names or ranks, but it was whatever. She hadn’t felt a need to seek them out but knowing where they were was a matter of both personal and operational security. Every once in a while, she’d catch the eye of Vasily or Driscoll, making the rounds even as she monitored the entrances for anything untoward.

  When presented to Marius LeStrange, or as she knew him, Dear Old Dad, it had been little more than a quick introduction to him and her mother, Terese. In his tux with his chain of office as the king’s Chief Advisor, he looked almost regal himself with his towering height and faint dusting of silver hair. Her mother was in a shimmering lace and satin gown that showed off her youthful figure even with the white streak through her jet black french rolled updo, secure, of course, by the LeStrange tiara.

  “She could be Dominic’s daughter, couldn’t she?” she’d said when Finn presented Cora, her heavily bejeweled hand on her husband’s arm as she smiled right in Cora’s face. Dominic was Cora’s uncle, her father’s brother, and as painful as it was, it meant the ruse was holding fast.

  His smile actually turned her stomach. It was… pleasant. The kind of smile he gave to her sisters and she’d never once seen directed at her. “She could. A nice Corvid girl like you, how did you two meet?”

  Finn seemed to sense her growing distress because he excused them a moment later. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but it appears my father is retiring for the evening and I need to speak with him.”

  They nodded and he guided her away from them, across the ballroom, and to the furthest table in the corner. “I will be right back.” He snagged a glass of whiskey from a passing waiter’s tray and set it in front of her. “I’m not leaving, but I do actually need to speak to my father.”

  Cora nodded and sipped her drink, fee
ling all the anxiety and anger boiling through her with every unintentional clink of ice in the glass.

  “Fancy meeting you here.”

  The voice was familiar, more than familiar, familial. Swiveling the seat to face the voice, she smiled coyly at the tall, dark-skinned man with razor-sharp features and eyes that could lay you open, bleeding and raw, like obsidian. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

  It was the only play available to her, really, that wouldn’t cause him to make a scene. Even still, there was no reason to think he wouldn’t raise hell if she didn’t get out of there, and soon.

  “Nicodimos LeStrange, but my friends call me Mos.” He offered her his hand, which she rose and shook to be polite.

  Nicodimos ‘Mos’ LeStrange, was technically the Baron Westravna, formerly a region in Bohemia, now part of Poland and the Czech Revar, a courtesy title from their father’s side. He was smart, had sharp instincts, and somehow managed to see through her glamour with no trouble at all. Last she knew, he was a data analyst in her father’s administration, learning the ropes from the ground up. In a midnight blue velvet jacket over a black shirt and tie, Cora’s brother was at once touchable and mysterious. That was edge upon which he thrived.

  “Any relation to Marius?” she simpered, doing her best to appear as the vapid society chippee until Finn returned. This could get dicey, quickly.

  His toothy grin sent a chill straight through her soul. “I should certainly hope so, Coretta. Otherwise this would be terribly awkward.”

  It was definitely that. For the first time that night, she wished she’d worn more dress. “How the hell did you find me? How did you know it was me, anyway?”

  His whole face pursed in a familiar look of disappointment. “Considering I’m the one footing the bill.” Her brother looked her up and down appraisingly. “Really, Chanel?”

  “Can’t sell a honeypot if it’s empty, sweet cheeks.” She patted his face with the most condescending grin she could muster, at least until she processed the rest of that sentence with dawning horror. “I… you! The fuck do you mean you’re footing the bill?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Who do you think you’ve been talking to on the phone, genius? Seems like an unusual oversight for you. Should I be worried?”

  “We hadn’t spoken in most of a decade. I’ll thank you to fuck off.” The room began to smell of ozone and she knew she was not going to keep a hold of her temper or her shift if this went on much longer.

  Dark eyes flashed to dead yellow as a faint sheen of feathers glistened across his skin. “You’re being paid to keep him safe and alive, not fuck him.”

  Unable to resist a worthy target, Cora smiled, feeling her hands shift to talons. “Yeah, about that—”

  “Is everything alright, Angel?”

  And just like that, the burgeoning bubble of rage and inappropriate behavior receded at just the sound of Finn’s voice. She turned to him as he slipped his arm possessively around her waist, her hand on his chest feeling his barely restrained growl when he pulled her to his side.

  “We’re fine. Baron LeStrange was just leaving.” She smiled sweetly up at her brother and though she knew they’d have to speak soon about the case, for now, this was neither the venue nor the time. “Another time, perhaps?”

  “Of course.” Ever the smart man, Mos simply smiled back and bowed slightly to her. “Highness, Miss Westgate.”

  “Baron.” He waited until his back was turned. The way he could take two steps and melt back into a room was equal parts impressive and frightening. “Do I wanna know what that was about?” he murmured out of the side of his mouth as they slowly meandered around the edge of the dance floor to the exit.

  “Not here,” she offered with a smile and giggle when Brendan looked their way. Finn nodded and they made small talk until they were in the clear, outside of the ballroom and stalking the deserted corridors of the empty royal wing. She had a lot to think about and the venue left a great deal to be desired.

  Chapter Fourteen

  FINN

  The moment they were clear of security, he pulled her into a side room off the corridor. It was a small study not far from the ballroom with dark wood bookshelves, a small desk and chair, and a more comfortable leather armchair positioned by the window with a view of the gardens. The only light was the half-moon shining through the glass casting everything in stark shadows. It was the best he could do on short notice.

  The door closing behind them sealed in the finality of the moment. They were finally alone for the first time since that morning and of all the things he wanted, talking was the last of them. He knew it wasn’t the most mature idea, or even the best one, but the honeyed-citrus scent of her in his head all night, and that fucking dress, holy shit that dress, and he was done for.

  Cora leaned back against the door, hands behind her with a tiny smirk curling the corners of her lips. “I suddenly don’t feel like talking.”

  Finn stepped closer, watching her dark eyes glitter to gold and back as her plush bottom lip slipped wet and glistening from between her teeth. The angel on his shoulder spoke of responsibility and duty and the devil, well… he was the one reaching out to tilt her chin up into his kiss to silence them both.

  She tasted like whiskey and sounded like heaven with each little whimpered exhalation as he licked into her mouth. Inching closer, he backed her into the door until he was pressed against her from shoulder to knee with one hand on her hip, and his thumb tracing down the underside of her jaw to her throat.

  No panties. Skimming over the soft, clinging fabric his mind could suddenly focus on nothing else. Finn groaned deep in his chest as his hand scaled the outside of her bare thigh only to meet not even a hint of underwear. “All fucking night,” he whispered against her lips as he massaged her naked hip, “all I could think about was you sitting there looking all refined and put together… with no panties on. I’m surprised I didn’t embarrass myself in front of the Court.”

  The evidence of his desire for her was rubbing against her stomach, separated by mere millimeters of fabric.

  “I admire your restraint,” she purred, wrapping her leg around his hip and pulling him even closer between her legs. She leaned up and whispered in his ear, “But I can assure you, it’s no longer necessary.” Finishing her declaration with a nip at his earlobe touched off a flurry of action with his jacket hitting the floor, his tie left hanging undone from his opened shirt and his trousers shucked to his knees.

  His hands were practically shaking as he fought to reign in his urge to claim her as he traced a finger down the delicate neckline of her dress. The way she shivered and trembled at his touch made his inner wolf test the bounds of his restraint. Peeling the dress from her skin like a candy wrapper from a red licorice vine he left her naked but for her heels standing in a puddle of discarded silk.

  “I have been waiting all night to see that,” he growled as the last tethers on his veneer of civility snapped. His mouth went straight to her neck, with licks and bites that left her squeaking in surprise and squirming in his arms as one hand braced against the door and the other slipped down her chest to cup her breast.

  Cora gasped, her breath catching as he pinched and plucked at her nipple, until it stood firm before he moved on, sending ticklish shivers down her spine as he teased her ribs and scraped his claws barely against the tender flesh of her belly. Gods, she was so vulnerable to him in that moment, so open and free and he felt so fucking privileged…

  Finding the silken flesh of her pussy wet was not a surprise, she was always so responsive for him. Something he adored about her, the way she reacted to him, melting around his fingers and tongue. His forehead against hers, he watched as her folds parted for him and glistened in the muted darkness.

  “I don’t have time,” he murmured as his finger rubbed tiny circles over her clit, “to eat you like I want. Properly. To show you just how bad the big, bad wolf can be.” He hissed as she moaned when he slipped two fingers inside he
r, testing his resolve once more even as the feel of her juices dripping down his hand made his cock throb. “But believe me, I will make that up to you.”

  Her dark eyes were glassy as they stared into his, lips wet and swollen from his kisses as she panted and moaned riding the sensations his hands were pulling from her. It was nothing at all to have her grinding down on his fingers, his thumb dedicated to tormenting her clit. The feeling of her claws in his bicep and behind his neck told him when she was close, and he stopped, leaning in to cover her wail of protest with his lips.

  “I was right there,” she gritted out as he licked his fingers clean. Her scent and taste were imprinted on his brain and there was no finer flavor for his tongue to find.

  “I know, baby,” he commiserated as he drew both hands down her back to rest on her perfect, round ass. “And you will be again.”

  He hiked her legs around his waist, loving the way her body immediately cradled him, and how light she was relative to her size. “So many possibilities,” he whispered before ducking his head to take first one nipple into his mouth and then the other. His boxer briefs shimmied down his legs as he kept her on edge and otherwise occupied.

  The bite of her nails in his shoulder and scalp spurred him on, and he pulled back to stare into the endless pools of her eyes. “I need you,” he whispered, his member grinding against the slippery folds of her pussy. It was perfect, it was torture. “Please, Cora. I need you.”

  Then, in what he could only think of as a moment of the goddesses’ divine providence, she smiled. “Then have me.”

  Rolling his hips, he slipped into her tight, wet, heat, his soft groan more a broken breath against her lips as he bottomed out inside her. The feeling of closeness, intimacy beyond merely physical, swelling through him as he pulled back and rocked into her again, making her gasp his name.

  “Yes, baby,” he encouraged as he took his time with long slow strokes that were so incredible in both their pleasure and torment, he felt his fingers sink into the muscles of her pump ass. “Fuck me, angel. Give me everything you got.”