by Dee, Bonnie
Aviva knelt at his feet, all the anger she held vanished. “Ethan, listen to me. What you just did was horrible, but you are newly awakened to your power. I was trained to handle my talent, to control it and not allow it to control me. And my power is nowhere near as strong as yours. You’ll learn.”
Aviva touched his knee and he relaxed his hold on the strings. He reached out to touch her hand, then yanked his back and stared at his bloodied palm. With a gentle touch, Aviva tugged his wounded hand and turned it over and tsked. “Stay there. I’ll take care of it.”
*
Ethan, still unable to come to grips with what he’d done, closed his eyes, his mind numb.
A small, furred head nudged his hand, and a rolling purr vibrated along his skin. He opened his eyes and stared into a cat’s emerald gaze. It bumped his hand again and a tiny pink tongue swiped its lips. A smile tugged at the corners of Ethan’s lips. “So, puss, what’s your name, eh? Something elegant and exotic?”
“His name is Khatkool. Khat for short.”
Ethan kept his head lowered as he stroked the cat’s warm, soft head with his fingertips. “What does it mean?”
He heard Aviva’s rich, laughter and raised his head. Her eyes held his gaze, she had a tube of ointment in her hands and she was smiling. “His name means ‘cat’ in Hebrew. Sorry it’s not more elegant and exotic.”
Ethan’s shoulder muscles relaxed. Aviva’s direct gaze held no recriminations. Could she have forgiven him?
She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and let out an exasperated whoosh. “I forgive you, I forgive you. Now, leave your precious harp alone and come sit on that stool so I can take care of your hands. There’ll be no playing today thanks to all your stupidity!”
Ethan set Ceol Mhor aside and perched on one of several high stools in the studio. He rested his left hand, palm up, on his knee as Aviva bent to her task. Her tousled curls shielded her face while she scrutinized his wounds. Like a curious child, he moved his right hand and touched her hair, his fingers relishing the soft strands. Aviva lifted her head and he shifted his hand and cupped her cheek.
Her hands stilled at her task and she turned her head, her mouth brushing his palm. He strained to hear her muffled words as her lips moved against his flesh. “I can’t blame this on your Singer ability. I want you.”
A blast of desire shot straight to his groin as her tongue swiped a moist circle on his wounds, soothing them like a healing balm. He gripped her chin, and turned her face toward him and she opened her eyes. Their amber fire torched his reason and he ground out his demand. “Take me to your bed.”
He relaxed his grip, releasing her and watched while she placed the gauze and ointment on top of the console and turned without a word toward the studio door. Like an obedient servant, he followed her as she led him through the hall and up the stairs to the top floor and her bedroom.
A sleek, wide bed piled with jewel-toned cushions took up almost the entire small area. Aviva moved toward the narrow space between the bed and the one window to let him in. “Please, make yourself comfortable. There’s not much standing room, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t expect we’ll be standing, now, do you?” Ethan said.
Aviva drew the curtains, leaving the room in a hazy twilight. She started to take off her rings, but he stopped her. “Let me.” He took her hand and placed the tip of her finger between his lips. Inch by inch he enveloped it, and slowly withdrew it and the ring, palming the tiny circlet in his free hand.
Aviva shuddered. “Stop. If you do that again, I’ll—”
“What?” Ethan nuzzled her hand and brought her wrist to his mouth. He licked the tender skin and blew on it. His voice took on a crooning tone. “Tell me, darlin’, what would you do? What would you do if I did this?” He took her hand and placed it on his bulging cock, still hidden behind the rough denim of his jeans.
Her hand curved around him and she squeezed. “This.”
Now he gasped and his eyes clenched.
“Open your eyes, Ethan Clark, take me to bed and make love to me.” His eyes opened wide at her command. Her eyes filled with satisfaction. “I may not have your power, but I am a Singer.” Her smile deepened. “What I can do is enhance the feelings you already have for me.” And she placed his hands on her hips and ground her mound against his arousal. “You want to take me and I want you to do it. Now.”
A lust-filled groan emerged from his throat and then there was no more thinking. He stroked her ass with one big hand and used the other to draw her mouth to his.
Their mouths attacked each other, their tongues plunging and entwining. They fell onto the bed, their legs thrashing. Somehow they managed to strip off their clothes, flinging them onto the floor. Ethan squeezed one of Aviva’s long, taut nipples, and bent his head to suckle greedily on the other. She moaned even as she found his engorged penis and stroked it, cupping his balls.
Her eager plea cut through his feasting. “Now. Now. In me.”
He raised his head, taking in her puffy mouth and flushed face. Her eyes blazed with need. “Do you have any condoms?”
“No need. I’m protected and Terrans don’t get STDs. They didn’t tell you?”
Ethan sighed. “Seems Gabe is one for the jokes too.” He grew serious. “It’s been a while for me.”
“I thought that might be why you fell upon me like a marauding barbarian.”
He laughed, but shook his head. “And who’s calling the kettle black now?”
“You’re right, but then I’ve wanted you since I saw your picture.” She flung one slim leg over his hip, bringing her damp curls to brush his cock. “No more talk, no more laughing. Just sex.”
And with those words, Ethan felt free. As free as the song he’d sung earlier. Just sex.
Only sex.
Chapter Three
Boynton, New York
Sex.
Nolen’s first response as he viewed the shapely brunette in the front door security camera screen was an unexpected and overwhelmingly sexual one.
He observed her adjust her slim, pencil skirt around her trim hips, smoothing the material so it hugged her body. She unbuttoned one more pearl button on her sheer, lavender blouse, exposing the top of her lacy slip. She moistened her lips and tucked a stray strand of hair into her neat French twist.
Then she looked straight into the hidden camera and winked.
The little bitch knew exactly what she was doing and thought she was clever. Too clever by half. He buzzed the intercom. “Ms. Foley, please come right in and turn to your right through the parlor. You’ll see an open door to my study where we can get to know each other … better.”
He sat back in his plush, leather chair and steepled his fingers.
Time for Arven Lowery to meet his first new associate.
* * * *
Lorraine Foley opened the solid mahogany door and went over the information she had unearthed about the mysterious Arven Lowery. It wasn’t much. In fact, there was damn little. Not even a picture. But the lure of her own column in a brand new food magazine and the added inducement of becoming assistant editor in six months had been enough for her.
When the hired limousine picked her up in her SoHo apartment, she couldn’t help but admire Lowery’s flare for the dramatic—and his apparent wealth. The fully stocked back seat of the automobile sported a mini-bar with wine, imported beer, bottled water and amaretto liqueur, one of her secret cravings. How had he known? No matter. He was a man with a penis and there wasn’t a cock alive that could resist her.
He was no different. She’d have him in the palm of her hand by the end of their meeting. And maybe that editor’s position even sooner. Lorraine smiled at the double entendres that her upcoming interview had prompted. Wonder what an “editor’s position” looks like?
The foyer looked three times bigger than her loft. Oriental rugs covered the marble floor and softened the sound of her heels clicking on the polished surface. She scanned the opulent parlor, fil
ing away for future reference a possible Manet on one wall and a Picasso on another. Eclectic tastes, obviously.
As she’d been informed, an open door greeted her and she stepped through to meet her prospective employer. He stood by the window with his back to her, tall, athletic figure with wide shoulders.
Then he turned and she gaped.
The man radiated power. A rakish eyepatch concealed one eye while a mesmerizing steel-gray one assessed her. He had the power she craved, had been looking for and never found. The muscle-bound men and silicone women she fucked and tortured and killed didn’t have it, and it pleased her to remind them. Muscles grew flabby and beauty faded even with plastic surgery. They needed to learn that they were weak.
But this man … even when he grew old and feeble, he’d never lose the power. She knew it, could feel it, and she’d have it.
“Please sit down, Ms. Foley. Or may I call you Lorraine?”
His voice was as compelling as she knew it would be. It resonated through her body, turning her mute and quiescent. She fought the feelings and won. “If you don’t mind, I prefer Ms. Foley. I like to keep my business relationships on a more formal basis.”
Lorraine slid into the cushioned leather armchair in front of the desk and crossed her legs, making sure her skirt rode up just enough to reveal a glimpse of her thigh. Her next move was to lean against the back of the chair with her arms resting along its arms. In that position, her blouse gaped open and her breasts pushed against the silky material. She waited to hear his response to her denial of familiarity. Most men hated to be put in their place by a female.
He said nothing at first, only sat down and bared his teeth in a smile. “As you wish. Now, let’s get down to business. I need a woman to become my housekeeper. One who’ll take care of hiring day staff and, since you’re a talented chef, planning and cooking the meals. I might occasionally have guests and she’ll see to their needs at those times.” He paused for a heartbeat. “Oh, and I expect her to satisfy my needs whenever I wish. The salary is enormous and the benefits are, shall we say, unbelievable?”
Lorraine’s mouth dropped open and she stared. “You’re insane. I came here on the assumption that I’d be interviewing for a magazine position. You have a lot of nerve to offer this ridiculous proposition to me. Do you expect me to take this seriously?” She rose to leave.
“Sit down, Lorraine. Now.”
Lorraine crumpled into the chair, her legs giving out from under her. This time she couldn’t refuse to obey. She stared wild-eyed at Lowery. “What did you do to me?”
He sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t want to use my power, but you’re such a bitch. I actually admire that in you, Lorraine, but you must learn your place. Now, if you wish to, you may leave after I share all I know about you and why I think you’re perfect for the position. Will you listen?”
More intrigued than frightened by his display of power, she settled back quietly in the chair. “Will you tell me how you controlled me just now?”
“I’m sorry, my dear, that is one ability I cannot share, but I can show you how to do other things.” He lowered his head and peered at her through his one cold eye. “Now, in case you think I don’t know everything about you, let me share some pictures with you.”
Lorraine felt her will return to her body and leaned forward to pick up the manila envelope shoved toward her. With shaky hands she lifted the flap and pulled out the contents. A half dozen video captures waited on the desk while she picked each one up, examining them with growing astonishment.
Each one pictured a moment in her latest fucking and killing session at the club. Fear warred with the sexual turn-on she felt reliving the sadistic erotic moments. One thought overwhelmed her. That bitch madam had sold her out and she’d kill her for it!
“In case you’re wondering, Lorraine, I own the club you’ve been visiting. The madam records all the activity that goes on and sends the results to me.” His teeth gleamed like pearls as he smiled again. “You should be proud. I selected you as the one who impressed me the most.”
He stood and came around to the front of the desk, placed his hands on the arms of her chair and bent down until his face was level with hers. “You’re the most vicious, amoral female I’ve ever met in my entire existence.” He chuckled softly. “And you cannot know how long that has been.” He drew even closer, invading her space, until she felt his hot breath caress her skin. “When you are here with me I’ll fuck you until you scream and give you all the bodies you need to satisfy your cravings. I’ll cover you in their blood and crown you with their entrails. You’ll be my queen when I rule this world. You’ll have all the power you want because you will be my consort and these pitiful humans will obey you.”
Lorraine shut her eyes and bent her head. He gripped her chin and dragged her face up, his fingers digging into her jaw. “Open your eyes, my sweet bitch. Must I use my power to compel you to speak?”
Her eyes shot open and she clasped his hand, her thumb stroking his wrist. She opened her mouth and her tongue darted out to lick the skin between his thumb and first finger. Her eyes never left his as she gave him the answer he wanted. “You are my Master. Give me what I crave and I will satisfy your needs.”
“Good. I’ll have the chauffeur bring your clothes from your apartment. You can fuck him after that and kill him.” He grinned. “I’ll enjoy watching.”
* * * *
Manhattan, East 92nd Street
“I can’t work with you watching me, Bridge. Why don’t you take a little walk in the garden? Help Martha in the kitchen. Practice controlling your Elements.”
“Leave you alone?”
Gabe swiveled his chair away from the computer screen. The love of his life—and the present bane of his existence—stood with hands on hips, grinning from ear to ear. He sighed. “Darling, you’re acting like a brat. Your family’s journal should arrive soon and you’ll have plenty to do.” He grinned. “Now, do I have to send you to your room for a time out?”
Brigid performed a little bump and grind and smiled. “Only if you join me.” Her hands fell from her hips. “You’re right. It’s just that you’re already working on something important and Ethan’s working on something important and—”
“Enough. Bridge, you’re not a child. Have patience.”
She moved back and forth across the soft hand-woven carpet. “I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s just that … I feel like we’re not only in a race, we’re in a steeplechase. There are all sorts of barriers and water traps and unknown obstacles in front of us. And the only one who’s gone over the course is Nolen.”
Gabe left his chair and caught Brigid in his arms, cradling her back against his chest and twining his hands with hers around her waist. “Brigid, we do have some time before Samhain. It’s only springtime.” He drew his arms tighter. “I forget sometimes the impatience of youth and how young you are.” He felt her relax within his embrace and some of his tension abated with hers. He kissed the top of her head. “Now, let me get back to work. Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty to do soon enough.”
Gabe released her and went back to his paper-littered desk. His personal computer, a clean, new one that KOTE had sent to him, and his laptop were both connected and different data flowed on each screen. Within seconds, his research pulled him under.
* * * *
Brigid stuck out her tongue at her reflection. “Well, Brigid, now what?”
After she’d stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her, she had wondered if Gabe even noticed she had left. She’d gone up to the gym to work out, hoping that a good sweaty session of kickboxing would take her mind off her unsought after free time.
It hadn’t worked. The sole result of her exercising had been sweat and charley horse. Now she regretted that she hadn’t pushed Gabe to install a private pool. Maybe she could convince him to have one put in the basement area. Who needed a wine cellar, anyway?
Brigid stripped; dumping her clothes in the
hamper as Martha had drilled into her from the first day she’d come to live with Gabe. With a fluffy terry robe in one hand and fresh undies in the other, she entered the bathroom.
They’d expanded the original room to include a double sink, huge steam shower and jetted Jacuzzi tub large enough to hold the entire Knicks basketball team. At least, that’s what she always teased Gabe. But it was perfect for a nice, long soak and some bubble bath. Every now and then she enjoyed pampering her girly side.
She ran the tub and turned on the jets. With a sigh of pure pleasure, she sank back against the smooth porcelain side. From hours of practice, she positioned her body to get the most benefit of the jets’ force. Reaching over to the little cabinet where she stored her bath lotions, oils and soap, she delved further back inside. Yes, still where she kept it, though she really didn’t think it wouldn’t be there. With a smile of anticipation on her face, she took out the favorite toy she’d specially ordered not that long ago.
She ran her fingers up and down its length, admiring the perfection of the copy. Even the texture was just about an exact duplicate—of Gabe’s penis.
Last year, when he started going out of town more frequently on cases for KOTE, she’d found a website that boasted of its ability to replicate a perfect copy of any penis. The site popped up by accident when she was surfing for a special toy for a friend’s bridal shower. At first, she giggled. The vibrator was called “Copycock.” Later, when she thought of being apart from Gabe on an ever-increasing basis, she examined the information with growing interest.
She sent them measurements along with her own precise drawing of his penis. Two weeks later, she held Gabe’s “Copycock” in her hands. That night, she’d thrust the vibrator deep within her, turned it on, and had her first lasting climax since Gabe had left three weeks earlier.