by Kim Knox
The tightness in my belly promised that my release was close, so close that my body shook, sparks of light dancing across my vision.
My damp skin was slick against his, the warmed air, the scent of sex, the rich aroma of the open ocean catching my senses. I wanted him to fulfil the shape of the promise lurking just out of my reach. If he did that—
My back hit the wall again, and Blake’s thrusts wiped out all thought. The wraith curled through my flesh, skimming over my clit.
“I have my duty.” He spoke the words out loud against my lips, denying our sudden closeness and what it meant. “I will see it through to the bitter end.” He thrust, harder, faster, giving me little time to do anything but cling to him and pant out against the spinning fury of the wraith.
“After this.” His lips brushed my ear, his breath hot and ragged. Already the twisting threads of my orgasm began to weave up through my flesh, the final rush almost, almost taking me. “I will make you come one more time.”
His low snarl, so wanted, so familiar, burned through my body, and my release hit me in a hot, blistering wave. I shook, my fingers curling into fists, and I moaned as Blake’s final few erratic thrusts pushed him over to find his own orgasm.
I pressed my lips to his damp neck, stringing insane little kisses over his skin. The wild joy still flowed through me. Blake was completely, completely addictive.
My mouth froze. His final words broke through the swell of happiness. I found the will to ask the question that seared my thoughts. My tongue-tip wet my lips. “One more time?”
Blake held my gaze, his dark, endless and flickering with golden curls of magic. I couldn’t feel his thoughts, and that lack of connection...hurt. Stabbed low and hard below my heart.
We’d shared something, something impossible, something beautiful. But he continued to deny us.
“I have one more bind to secure in you.”
His other self, the creature with incredible wings and satin skin, faded back, and Blake was all black suit and bleak humanity again. The gold in his eyes coalesced.
“I’ll bring you to orgasm, and you will be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“So, Mr Blake.” A woman’s sharp voice cut through the dark silence of the alley, and a sudden tight fear gripped me. “You’ll obviously go to any length to secure her.”
Chapter Nine
I froze.
For a long moment, I closed my eyes and fell into the red-hot burn of embarrassment slashing over my cheeks. Blake was still hard inside me, and I had to ignore the little flickers of the wraith as it teased its heat around his cock.
Fucking thing.
I eased myself free of him, and my feet, still in my socks, touched the damp alley floor. Cold cut through the thin wool, and I shivered.
Fuck. Second…dragged. I dropped down in the hunch of shame to pull on my underwear, trousers, and stamp into my boots, my belly in a permanent and mortifying cramp. I pushed out a breath at being mostly covered and happily wrapped my coat around me.
Willing my spine straight, I folded my arms tight across my chest, desperate to find some control. The power of the wraith gave a final flicker and stilled. The relief almost sagged through me. Thank fuck.
I took slow breaths and finally stared back at the woman edged by light in the entrance of the alley.
Tall, with blonde sculpted hair, her classic business suit silhouetted her thin frame. Her face was half masked by shadow. I knew the voice. I was sure. However, my head was a mess, and I couldn’t remember where I’d heard those scrapingly aristocratic tones before.
There was one thing I had to know. I made myself look up at Blake's bleak face. “Ready for what?”
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, and his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “Not now. Not here.”
I held back a curse, the flow of anger taking me again. Calm, sane emotions had not been with me since I’d met the bloody man. My arms tightened against my side. Really, what the fuck was going on?
“Samuel Blake.” The stranger’s sharp accent cut through my nerves, and I winced. “You have your orders.”
Blake turned his pitiless stare on the woman. “I know my orders.”
A muscle jumped in the woman’s gaunt cheek. “You are needed at the Chamber. Come now or...” She left the words as a hanging threat. Her chin lifted. “Well?”
I found myself pushed ahead of him. “Take your hands off me.”
“Not what you thought a minute ago.”
I forced down the too-recent memories, willing myself not to taste him on my tongue, not to remember the hard press of his body into mine. I shivered and bit out hard words. “A minute ago, I was insane. Anyone, any dick, would’ve done.”
His solid silence followed me from the alley.
“Well, Ms Munro.” The woman held out her manicured hand. I kept my arms firmly crossed. The stranger’s left eyelid twitched, and a hardness slid over her face. “You as first choice is, to be truthful…unexpected.”
I glanced across the street. A Council shuttle squatted in the middle of the pavement, all sleek lines and screaming power. People milled around the black, shining vehicle, their gazes shifting over it, nervous to be caught staring.
“If you would like to come with me?”
It wasn’t a question. The armed Council officers standing on either side of the open doorway proved it. I had no choice. “Who are you?”
“Me?” The strain of staying polite cracked the stranger’s voice. She forced a false smile. “I am Councillor Clair Musgrove.” She arched a pale eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
Oh, fucking fuck, my life had just become ten times worse. Clair Musgrove, deputy leader of the Council and an antimagic hard-liner. At least what had happened in the alley— and I wasn’t thinking about it, much—had calmed the wraith within me. It wouldn’t be obvious that magic had taken possession of my body. All that she’d seen was, well, Blake buried inside me. Mortifying, but not something that would have me thrown into the river.
And I blamed the wraith for my need to screw Blake up against the nearest wall. Denial was safest right then.
This woman seemed to know Blake, but did she know what he was? How twisted he was by magic?
Shit, that wasn’t my concern. Staying alive was. Nothing more. “What do you want with me?”
Musgrove’s red-painted lips thinned. “I’m sure Mr Blake has told you that, for the moment, we must maintain our silence.”
“Not in those exact words, no.”
Clair waved her manicured hand to the open shuttle. “Inside, Ms Munro.” There was a sharp edge to her voice. She was not amused.
I stared at the large guns held tight by the Council officers. Yes, I’d stopped running—but not through choice.
Tracking lights shone out from the deep black carpet covering the floor of the shuttle. I sank back into a leather chair, and the safety belt snaked across my chest. I bit back a cry. I had no intention of letting Clair Musgrove know that I’d never set foot in anything like this before. The undercurrent of tech already had my teeth on edge.
I twisted myself into my seat, the leather moulding to my backside and thighs. The air smelled scrubbed and sanitised, only a hint of the soft rich aroma of the leather, of the wool carpet fighting the filters. Fear sat heavy in my gut.
Blake, with a sliding glance, sat next to me.
I fixed my gaze on the tinted window. My leg inched away from touching his, but his heat still swept over me. I knotted my hands in my lap. What had happened in the alley was something beyond my control. I had to remember that. It meant nothing. Just like all the other times.
I choked back a bark of hysterical laughter. He’d fucked me, but I took more intimacy from a kiss. It sounded— Shit, it was crazy.
Clair eased herself into sat opposite seat with cool elegance, unmoved as the belt shot over her. My lips pinched and I pushed down my hit curl of envy.
She nodded to the guards, who closed the out
er door. Fresh lights sparked above our heads, filling the cabin with a soft, golden glow.
I wet dry lips. “What’s the Chamber?”
Clair smiled, a political smile that offered me no reassurance. “You have no need to worry, Ms Munro.”
Oh, that was too fucking much. Had she been paying any attention to my day? “You released my pictures to the media. Told them about Blake. Blamed me for the implosion. Why should I trust you?”
“Would you rather trust Mr Blake?”
I didn’t look at him and didn’t answer the councillor. Clair knew too much about me already. Had seen me shoved half-naked against the wall with Blake—I damped down that memory. I was relieved at the distraction of the slow, rumbling shuttle as it lifted up from the pavement. It swayed, steadied, rose, and then banked sharply, heading away from the river.
“We all have the best interests of the South Bank to think about, don't we, Ms Munro?” Clair’s finely carved face glowed in the soft shine of the overhead lights. “You were a witness to the power of uncontrolled magicians.”
Beside me, Blake stiffened. The councillor’s gaze slid to him. “Deny it was the magicians all you want, Mr Blake. No weapon we have yet devised could vaporise so large a target so cleanly.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself.”
The councillor’s expression hardened, but she turned back to me. Her previous mask fell away, and her sympathetic face returned. Clair Musgrove was a politician. She lived for lying and lied for a living. No, I didn’t trust as far as I could spit.
“There have been a number of candidates; I can safely tell you that. We’ve been watching you—and waiting—for a very long time.”
“And I’m—what?—the chosen one?”
“One of them.” Clair’s gaze flicked over me and obviously found me lacking. “Yes.”
“So there are others?”
“That is enough discussion.” Blake’s harsh voice broke between us. “You know the rules, Councillor Musgrove.”
A derisive snort escaped her. “Facing a test in ignorance is not sensible.”
“It’s how it’s always been done. It won’t change.” He sank back into the soft leather, the seat creaking. “And your test? It’s unnecessary.”
“So you say.”
I pulled at my scarf and tugged the hat from my damp hair. “I am here, y’know.” I loosened my coat, thankful that the scrubbed air cooled my skin.
Clair smiled and recrossed her legs. She settled the hem of her skirt across her knees. “Mr Blake is being overcautious.”
I matched her smile with a tight one of my own. “I'm sure.” I shifted in my chair and tried to ignore the tight fury boiling through Blake. It burned so sharp and strong I could almost taste it. “So, Councillor, what else can you safely tell me?”
“I'm glad you’re taking such interest, Ms Munro.”
“I think I should.”
“Leona...”
I ignored Blake’s now familiar growl of my name and the little spark of memory that came with it. Damn him. I let out a slow breath, and the first flicker of wraith-fire died away. “Please continue, Councillor.”
Clair relaxed back into her chair and smoothed over the material of her skirt in slow, deliberate moves. Her long, polished nails shone. “The South Bank does not need magic.” A sharp smile cut her mouth. “I think we do very well without it.”
Was she waiting for a response? I shrugged. “Yes.”
“There’s no doubting it. We’ve exported our culture to the rest of the world.” She straightened her shoulders. “We are not confined to the banks of a river, the sliver of a peninsula, and have a level of technology that rivals anything a magician could hope to conjure.” Her expression slid into smugness, and her gaze fixed on Blake. “And I've yet to see one of you fly.”
“I’m not a magician,” he said.
“So you always claim.” Clair paused and pressed her finger to her temple implant. “We’re about to land. And there are a number of people who are dying to meet you, Ms Munro.”
The sharp sting of her implant transmission cut under my skin. Tech always did this. And Clair’s embedded tech burned longer and sharper than most. No doubt a sign of her power within the Council and her access to hyper-advanced tech.
I fixed my gaze on the tinted window, watching the shapes of the city below. I was not thinking about what could await me. Instead, I let the sweep of the shuttle over ancient buildings push my mind in other directions. The Chambers. Of course. Shit, my brain needed an inspection, as I hadn’t had a clear thought in it since I’d woken up. Well, when I was blown up.
The Council chambers, cut into the roll of hills, a safe distance from the danger of the river. Centuries old, my books of magic had always claimed they were build by magicians’ hands. Staring at the spindle spires of white stone, the gleaming crystal dome, its sweeping curve blending into the deep green of the hillside, it was obvious why magicians would want to acknowledge such beauty as their own work.
But…it was impossible. Magic didn't work beyond the banks of the river. It didn’t even reach the other side of the North Bank peninsula.
Magic was limited to the city of North Bank, with the occasional splinter of weak magic firing through my city.
All that Blake had done shot over my thoughts. Well, I thought it hadn't stretched with such ease. Was that what the councillor feared? That magic would, was invading her technological world with stronger bursts of power?
The shuttle plummeted and my stomach jolted, my heart hitting my throat. I gasped, and my fingers clawed the leather edge of my seat.
Light sparked through the window in a blinding shaft. I winced and squinted to half-see a floodlit hangar. A still panicked heartbeat later, the craft dropped with a stomach-churning thud to the concrete floor.
“New pilot.” The tone in Clair's voice didn’t bode well for his continuing in the job.
With a slow whoosh, the outer door opened and thumped against the deck. Beyond, in the wide bay, uniformed men filed in front of the shuttle, their heavy boots striking against the concrete floor. As one, the Council officers stood ready, weapons primed and aimed. At us.
“After you.” The councillor waved Blake and me out of the shuttle. The officers’ gloved fingers creaked as they bent and slid, stopping over the triggers of their guns. Yes, I felt so safe now.
The seat belts shot back into their sockets, and slowly I stood. I was careful to keep my hands in plain sight, to keep my movements slow and precise. My heart pounded. My life was crazy; it really was. “Are you absolutely sure you have the right woman?”
Clair laughed, a dry sound, holding no humour. “Oh yes.”
I padded down the ramp and stood in the centre of the weapons all aimed at my head. Blake followed. The men shifted again, the tension in their bodies screaming at me. My breath puffed pale before me, and I shivered. The air in the hangar froze against my skin after the scrubbed environment of the shuttle.
“As I have said”—the councillor walked around the six men, and I caught glimpses of her conservative grey suit through the gaps between the officers’ black-armoured bodies—“we have watched you, and others, for a number of years.” She began to walk across the hangar, her thin heels clicking. With a flick of their weapons, the officers indicated we both should follow. “Your genetic structure identified you at birth as a possible candidate.”
I stared at the woman’s straight back. What? “It did?”
“Councillor...” Blake’s low growl prickled my skin.
At his warning, one of the weapons emitted a slow whine. Blake turned his head, and he glared at the man to his left. The unerring gun began to shake.
Clair waved a dismissive hand. “We have worked with you for centuries, Mr Blake, perfecting a system for finding those you need from the South Bank. In return, we must have full control of both banks.”
Blake’s mouth thinned. “That was never the deal.” His thoughts formed dark and uneven shapes t
hat I could almost read. The connection to him was still unnerving.
Clair stalked towards a section of blank grey wall. The air fizzed with the familiar charge of her implant, and the door appeared, then opened, revealing a lift. She looked back to us.
“It is now.”
Dazed, I followed Clair into the metal-lined lift. I could even ignore the press of the surrounding officers in the cramped space as one word had stuck in my brain. “Centuries?”
Clair’s perfect lips twitched at the corners. Something wry and dark. “Mr Blake does look well for his age, don't you think?”
Chapter Ten
I stared up at him and found the familiar bleak expression. Centuries. He’d survived being shot, used magic I’d never read about...but his incredible age had me stunned. “How many?” My voice was no more than a croak. “How old are you, Blake?”
Muscles hardened in his jaw. “Older than I look.”
“He won't tell you,” Clair said, absently batting one of the weapons from her hair. “Four hundred years old, at least.”
I blinked. “Four...?” I swallowed. “That's impossible.”
“Initially, it was thought he was cloning.” Clair’s sharp, pale gaze inspected Blake, her head tilted. “But that has now been ruled out. So we have to believe he is the same man with whom the Council has been dealing for so long.”
The door closed, and the lift started to descend.
I almost grabbed at Blake’s arm at the sudden lurch of the metal box, but I fought that need and shifted my feet, my body to keep my balance. “So what am I doing here?”
Clair smiled and said nothing.
I sucked in a deep breath and forced myself to remain calm. Demanding answers wouldn’t get me anywhere. A leather-armoured arm and the stock of a gun now pressed against my back. It certainly wouldn’t get me out of the testosterone-packed lift. Yes, arguing with Clair Musgrove was not an option.
I’d had no interest in tech. Hell, it stabbed down to the bone to be near it, so the secrets that shrouded the Council chambers had never interested me.