The Reaping (The Moondreamer Chronicles Book 2)

by Tamara Mataya

  “Off.” I loop my finger into a belt loop and tug. I could make them vanish with my powers, but watching him strip is its own kind of pleasure.

  He stands up and obliges while I slide up so my head is on the pillow. He kneels on the bed and pauses to look at me. “You're so beautiful. I love you.” His eyes shine brightly, affirming his words.

  “I love you.”

  He lowers himself on top of me, propped up on his arms so he isn't lying on me. I can't have that.

  “Put your weight on me,” I demand, shaking with the need to feel all of him pinning me down.

  His hot, velvet skin comes down on mine and I squeeze him tight.

  “I've missed you so much,” he whispers, grinding his hips against mine.

  “I missed you too.” My words sound more like a moan, and I wrap my legs around him as the pleasure builds. My legs flex impossibly tense as heat builds up between us. Delicious friction has me alternately holding my breath and gasping. I hold him tight, cry out and look into his eyes. “Now, baby please, I need all of you.” I unwrap my legs from around his waist.

  He lifts my hands in his until they're above my head, fingers entwined. He pins them down and kisses my breasts, using his knees to spread my legs wider. His hands release mine and trail down my body, igniting a fire in my belly, waking up nerve endings until my skin is almost painfully sensitive.

  “Draven!” Unless I stop him, he will spend hours making the most of every inch of skin, every single nerve ending. If left unchecked, he'll happily turn my entire body into an erogenous zone until I'm writhing and screaming with pleasure. He can do it. He's done it.

  He loves doing that to me, for me, with me, but I'm far too impatient for that right now, needing our connection more than anything.

  “I love you.” His lips find mine again before I can say it back, and then there’s nothing in between us, and we move together like two halves of a whole, joining together after far too long apart. He fills me so deeply I moan, and he devours that too, taking the sounds of pleasure I make with strokes of his tongue and lips.

  Every cell in my body hums in time with his thrusts.

  Every cell feels like it’s gasping when he takes the energy from me, but I moan when he gives the energy back, magnified by his own pleasure as he begins pulsing deep inside me.

  It’s a never-ending feedback loop of sensation that takes us higher and deeper, burning away who we are until there’s only lust and love and energy and emotion.

  Bodies and souls and the frenzied, beautiful rhythm of this silken dance that I never want to end.

  “SYXX.”

  “Mmm.” For the first time in ages, I’m perfectly relaxed and comfortable. You couldn’t pay me to move or open my eyes and I am never leaving this bed.

  A hand gently rubs my shoulder. “Syxx.” There’s a smile in Draven's voice.

  Damn it. “Did I pass out again?” I open my eyes.

  He grins. “Yes.”

  The skill level of a sex demon in bed is too much for most human women to handle. Incubi are in danger of killing their partners, especially fully human women who literally can't take the pleasure. When we mated at The Sowing, I still passed out from complete pleasure overload and Draven’s only half-Incubus. I woke up completely happy, and temporarily paralysed the first time.

  The second time, I woke up blind.

  I wiggle my toes. “At least I can move and see. Progress.”

  Draven nips my lower lip. “You're getting used to me.”

  I run a hand down his side. “I could never get used to that. There's no way to prepare for what you do to me.”

  “With you.” He kisses me gently, until his smile claims his lips, making kissing impossible. I'd been doing better when we were together the first week before the missions really started; I hadn't passed out at all. I guess not being with him for a while has made a big difference.

  He pulls back and lies down, cradling me to his chest. “Then maybe you're getting stronger. I can't believe all you've learned in two weeks.”

  “It feels like it's been longer than that. I've been worried about you. Stone Elementals! What were you doing near them?”

  “That wasn't part of the plan. I was supposed to rendezvous with Emerson.”

  Emerson’s half-Siren. It's still weird for me to wrap my head around male Sirens. I'm used to picturing mermaids luring sailors to their deaths at the bottom of the ocean. The reality is far more beautiful and terrifying. “And?” I prompt, playing with a lock of his hair.

  “We were supposed to follow Jecka, ideally find where she's been, where the High Council has been hiding out. They have to be meeting somewhere.”

  Jecka is one of the High Council members. Full Succubus and full evil, not that I'm prejudiced. Much. “It’s too bad so many Fae have gone into hiding.”

  “Finding out that the bad guys aren't really the worst guys kind of takes the spring out of your step. We can't really blame them for ducking out of the fight.”

  “Discovering the real bad guys are heading an entire Fae army hell-bent on outing themselves to the human world is a lot to take in. But you’d think they’d want to join us.” I sigh.

  “Most of the Fae like their place in human society. They've carved out a comfortable living for themselves—even creating families and homes they can’t bear to leave.”

  That’s true enough. Finding out that there are Fae who want to take that away, and possibly turn the humans against them, is an awful reality we're all facing. Most of the Fae are at least part human and have human families. It's a terrible situation—worsened since the army we face is made of the children conceived at The Sowing ceremonies, then stolen away during Reapings.

  The conflict has been dividing blended families of Fae and human, especially since the Fae army has orders to kill the humans if they resist the Fae taking their “rightful” place as the dominant species of Earth.

  Yeah, can't imagine why humans might have a problem with that attitude at all.

  “So you found Jecka?”

  Draven nods and turns me over so he can spoon my back. His body radiates warmth against my skin like a sexy heating pad. Mmm, that's so nice.

  “We tracked her down outside of Seattle holed up with a few friends. Emerson and I managed to beat the Stone Elementals, but she got away while we were fighting them.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah.” He snuggles closer and tucks the blanket over my exposed shoulder. “But we know she was there, and we saw who she was meeting with.”

  “Who?”

  “The leader of the Djinn.”

  “Oh my god.” And Verica showing up here is just a coincidence? Yeah, right. Her pair-bonded mate’s a Djinn, and I can’t see him being much more pleasant than she is. One less reason to trust her.

  “Yes. Though I'm not surprised. The Djinn tend to go for destruction and back whoever is likely to supply the most fun.” He yawns. “It’s their nature.”

  The Djinn are a desert Fae, almost like a genie—minus granting wishes. They're some of the most tempestuous of the Fae—and formidable allies because of the passion they breathe. This is bad news if the Djinn are backing the High Council and the Fae army we've to defeat.

  We've been hoping that taking out the four High Council members will be enough to end the war. The Djinn joining in on their side is a game changer.

  “At least we're getting a better picture of who we can and can't trust.” Succubitch can't be trusted—I don't care what Ashria thinks, my spidey-senses turn apoplectic around that wench.

  “Exactly.” Draven's voice is barely above a whisper.

  He probably hasn’t slept for days. I should have let him take his time with me—the better sex is for me, the more energy we generate and the more he can feed off it. There are perks to being with a sex demon. I shouldn’t have been selfish and rushed him.

  “Goodnight, baby,” I whisper and kiss his hand.

  He answers wordlessly, and I can tell fr
om his breathing that he's already asleep. The safety of his arms outweighs the worries of the war. Tomorrow I’ll let him do whatever he wants to me.

  Okay, so it’s not a sacrifice without benefits.

  I fall asleep quickly in his strong embrace.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Voices from just out of sight through the open bedroom door wake me and I tense, readying myself for a fight, before recognizing them and relaxing.

  “I don't care. I'm not doing it.” Draven's voice is adamant.

  “You will do as you're told,” Ashria harshly insists. “It could be the difference between winning or losing the war.”

  “No. I won't do it. I can't.”

  What is it she’s asking him to do that makes him sound horrified?

  “I understand and I’m only presenting this as a last resort.” Her voice softens. “You may have to do this for the cause.”

  “You don't even know that it would work.”

  “And you don't know that it won't.”

  Draven doesn't reply for a long moment. “I could never betray her like that.”

  Betray who? Me?

  “Not even if it's what's best for her?”

  It feels wrong listening in on this now, but morbid curiosity has stolen my voice.

  “What would you know about what's best for her? I’ve spent more time with her than you have.”

  “You are wrong about that. And she is still my daughter.”

  “Then start treating her like she's more than just another soldier in your war.”

  Angry footsteps come nearer. Unsure what to do, I close my eyes and feign sleep. The door is shut, and Draven sighs.

  “I know you're awake, Syxx.”

  Damn. Busted. I open my eyes just as he flicks on the small lamp by the bed. My eyes involuntarily squeeze shut, protesting against the blinding light. Draven stands with his arms crossed, avoiding my eyes.

  “Are you coming to bed?”

  “Sorry.” He scrubs his hands down his face. “We need to talk.”

  My heart squeezes, fear clutching it tight at those four small, devastating words. Gathering the blanket around me, I sit up. “Why?” I swallow, trying to combat the sudden dryness of my mouth. “What's wrong?” I'm choking on his silence. “Are you breaking up with me?”

  “What? Of course not.” His surprise calms my fears, but my nerves are still half-shot.

  “Then what's with the 'we need to talk?' That's never a good thing. Don't ever lead with that.”

  He sits on the bed and gathers me in his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to worry you.”

  After a moment, I gently break the embrace and move to sit so I'm facing him with my back against the wall. “Then what is it?”

  He runs his hands through his hair, brushes his knuckles against his lips. He does that when he's really not sure how to proceed.

  “Spit it out.” I poke his thigh.

  “We're going to see the Vampire Council.”

  “Ugh, really? Does everyone have to have a Council? That word’s going to give me hives.”

  “Every people needs a government.”

  I twirl a section of hair around my finger. “I guess. It just makes me wonder who's at the very top. Of everyone, not just us.”

  He shakes his head. “There is no very top. It's much like the human world, though we're more similar to older human societies. We are ruled by people instead of by the borders of countries.”

  “Why is that?”

  “We don't all live in the same country, for one. And different beings have different powers, different lives. A Sprite has different concerns than a Succubus. A Moondreamer has different needs than a Selkie. It's easier to govern and be governed that way. It's served us well. Outside of The Sowing and Reaping ceremonies, it's been positive for everyone. We all separately have our leaders and no one is at the top.”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “There's always someone at the top.”

  “That sounds like a conspiracy theory.” He laughs. “There is no top.”

  “Maybe not, but there is that High Council we're up against. Sounds like they think they are.”

  “True. I'd still say they're more at the side of things, trying to pull our world askew.”

  And they're doing a pretty good job of it. “Semantics.” What's real and what's myth with Vamps? “The Vampires never came to our Sowing ceremonies.”

  He shakes his head. “No. Too risky for the participants and for potential Vampire hybrid offspring. It wouldn't do well to have a Vampire with another immortal being's powers. A daywalking Vampire could cause mass hysteria and destruction. While humans may not be scared of a cute little Sprite who lives off of bugs—something they hate—they would react differently to a Fae who lives off of humans.”

  We do tend to be hypocritically precious about ourselves. “I can see that.”

  “That wasn't the main reason we don't share Sowings with them.”

  “They couldn't breed with us because being so close to a part-human in that vulnerable and excited of a state would be too tempting to resist feeding on?” I bite my lip. He'd told me this before The Sowing.

  “You remember.”

  I shrug. “Some. We didn't really focus on Vampires 101, what with everything else going on.”

  “We don't generally have much contact with them.”

  “Are we changing that because of the Djinn joining the High Council?”

  He nods. “We need a powerful ally who wouldn't want the humans to be wiped out. Vampires are the obvious choice.”

  “Because they need humans alive to feed from them.” I grimace.

  “They can't help what they are,” Draven admonishes me gently.

  “I know. Sorry.” I’ve been trying to stop my knee-jerk negative reactions about some of the harsher realities of the Fae, and what some need to do to survive, but it’s not automatic yet. Draven’s a gorgeous person and he’s capable of great harm as well. Our choices define us more than our genetics. “If they’re the most logical choice as allies, why didn't we go to them right away?”

  “Their help comes at a price.”

  “Blood?”

  He pulls my feet onto his lap and starts massaging my calves. “Not necessarily, though we’re not going to get something for nothing.”

  “No helping us out of the kindness of their hearts then?”

  Draven laughs. “Not a chance.”

  I rush ahead before I can talk myself out of it. “What were you talking about when you told Ashria you couldn't betray me? Did that have to do with the Vampires?”

  “Yes. It was ridiculous and isn't going to happen.”

  “She seemed to think it was in my best interest, whatever it is.”

  “Can we not talk about that right now?”

  “Draven.” What the hell.

  “Syxx, believe me when I say you can trust Ashria and you can trust me. What she suggested isn’t anything worth discussing, much less worrying about.”

  I pull my legs back to myself. “Shouldn't I be the judge of that?”

  “Yes. But can you trust me enough to let it go for now?”

  Draven is usually an open book with me, nothing to hide. He's gained my trust and respect, so I'll drop it. For now. “Sometime soon you are going to answer every question I ask about it.”

  He nods and his shoulders drop, no longer rigid with tension. It's something big—why doesn’t he want to talk about it? Because he's usually so open, it feels like he doesn't trust me with this. It probably shouldn't, but it does.

  “One of the teams has infiltrated Graire’s house.”

  The Water Elemental, and one of the Council members, died at The Sowing—killed by my mother. “Why? He’s dead.”

  “Not all of his allies are. And apparently he knew more than he let on—the team found some files and artifacts that may be of use to us. I’ve to go and interrogate one of his allies.”

  I shift positions to lie down properly, taking his hand at the l
ast admission. “It has to be you?”

  He nods. “It takes a certain skillset I possess. I hate it as well.”

  Before this, he’d been attending an Ivy League school, studying law to be a human rights lawyer so he could help people.

  “I was thinking”—was it just yesterday?—“that sometimes my skills make me seem like a bad guy. I know we have to do bad things for good reasons, but it still doesn’t feel good.”

  “I know.” He stretches out beside me. “What would you be doing right now if none of this had happened?”

  With my gaze, I trace the shiny white swirls in the ceiling that look like someone dragged a comb through marshmallow frosting. “What is it today, Tuesday?”

  “Thursday.”

  “Damn. On Thursdays, Trina and I get Indian food from this place down the street from our apartment. From the outside it looks so dodgy, but they’ve got the best, well, everything.” Just thinking about their laal maas makes my lips tingle.

  “Would you guys be eating in the restaurant?”

  “No. We’d take it home and eat it sitting on the floor with our backs against the couch and our plates on the coffee table while watching something on Netflix. She’d always finish the butter chicken, I’d swipe the last naan, and we’d wash it down with sparkling water, pretending to be fancy.”

  “You miss her.”

  “Yeah. When we met it was amazing—it never felt like a new friendship, it was more like, ‘where the hell have you been? Finally!’ And now we’ve barely spoken since The Sowing and it’s so weird.”

  “You should tell her.”

  “I know, and believe me, I want to. But this”—I wave my hand around indicating him and me and everything—“isn’t a conversation you have over the phone. How do I tell my best friend that there’s an army of Fae—how the hell do I tell her that I’m Fae? I need to see her face.” When I tell her I’m not quite human. “And if she’s really freaked out, I’ll do whatever it takes to make things okay. But it’s not a facetime conversation, and we don’t have time for this right now.”

  Draven squeezes my hand. “You’ve always been Fae—you just didn’t know it. You need to remember that too. You’re still the amazing person you’ve always been.”