Ceremony of Seduction (2 page)

“About eight o’clock, okay?” Debbie continued, either not noticing Alyssa’s reaction or not caring. She bet it was the latter. “And try to wear something that hides your weight. I want him to like you.”

Alyssa swallowed her embarrassment and slid into the passenger’s seat.
Maybe I can get sick before Friday.

“If I’m raped and murdered tonight, so help me, I’m going to haunt Debbie until her dying day!” Alyssa quickened her steps as the shadowed stranger behind her loomed closer. She searched the darkened street and closed shops in front of her for some sign of life, to no avail. The stifling Phoenix night closed around her like a shroud, heat still radiated off the cement and her footsteps clicked in time to her beating heart. The smell of stale grease from the Chinese restaurant permeated the air.
Why the hell can’t something still be open?

“Damn you, Debbie!” she growled under her breath, and glanced over her shoulder to see the menacing shape of the man who still followed her. Debbie was probably off fucking some pretty-boy and forgot all about her promise to pick her up after work.
If I live through tonight, I’m taking that fucking driver’s test
.
Even if I have to study for the rest of my life to pass it, it will be worth not having to wait on Debbie.

Quickening her steps, she rummaged in her purse for her switchblade. Luckily, an extremely drunk Hell’s Angel had run short on money and made a tip of the switchblade a few months ago. Now if she could just figure out how to use it.

A strong hand gripped her shoulder, startling her and causing her to drop the knife, which skittered away over the hot cement. Time slowed and her self-defense training took over.
Thank God I didn’t listen to my family and took the class anyway!
She stomped down hard on his instep, the heel of her cowboy boot hopefully leaving a permanent imprint. Then she drove her elbow back into the attacker’s midsection. A surprised “oof” of pain sounded behind her and she bolted forward out of his reach.

Before she’d taken two steps, he grabbed her around the waist, and all her air whooshed out in a painful rush. When she recovered, she realized he hadn’t even broken stride and she hung over his arm like a sack of dog food. If she weren’t so scared, she’d have to admire the man’s muscle and strength. She screamed, but no sound came out. She took a breath and tried again, but it was as if she screamed inside a soundproof room.

“Calm down, witch,” he said and slapped her on the bottom. “I haven’t searched for you for ten years to have you feed me my own bollocks.” The voice, which held a note of amusement, was so deep she felt the rumbling through his arms wrapped beneath her ass. There was something familiar about it she couldn’t quite place.

“Put me down, you bastard!” Alyssa was surprised to hear her voice this time, although muted. She kicked and flailed to no avail. She started to bite him, but some deep internal instinct warned her not to push her luck. She could sense the aura of power that surrounded him without ever seeing his face. And she’d learned long ago not to ignore her gut.

“In good time, witch. You’re almost home.” He punctuated his remarks with another slap on her ass.

He knows where I live? Oh, God, I’m going to raped and murdered in my own shabby apartment!

She raised her head and was shocked to see her apartment steps come into view. Metallic panic rose in the back of her throat, and she renewed her struggles. As a single woman, she knew better than to let her attacker get her inside the apartment. Better to take a stand outside where someone could happen along or she had a hope of escape. But just as she took a breath to scream, he set her down in front of her apartment door, sliding her down his firm body until her feet touched the concrete. She startled when something about the sensation tickled her memory.

The scream died in her throat as she looked into the face of a familiar stranger.

Stone.

She’d know him anywhere since she’d dreamt of him so often over the past ten years, she hadn’t ever bothered to find a flesh-and-blood man. To find him here now, standing in front of her, sent an erotic thrill racing through her body.

She shook her head, convinced she was dreaming again, but none of her dreams of him had ever taken place anywhere but in an ethereal bedroom. She took a moment to study him and compare him to her dream memory. He towered over her five-nine frame so much he would have to duck to walk through her apartment door. Broad shoulders stretched his black T-shirt taut across a well-defined chest, and his face resembled chiseled granite. When he smiled, the small dimple next to his mouth softened him, making him seem approachable. Unruly mahogany hair gave him a rakish air and liquid lavender eyes, the same color as her own, stared back at her.

His deep rumbling chuckle shook her from her reverie and she realized she’d been staring. “Do you see anything you like, witch?” His tone held a teasing warmth as he gestured to himself from head to toe. Following his hand all the way down, she noticed an extremely large bulge that tightened the front of his jeans.

She swallowed hard as she recalled her dream with him last night and liquid heat pooled between her legs and dampened her panties. Then fear and the remaining adrenaline brought her back to reality. How could a flesh and blood man invade her dreams? Could this man really be Stone?

“Who are you?” she demanded, ignoring his question.

“You already know who I am. The more appropriate question is who are you and why have I come to find you.” He crossed muscular arms over his chest and grinned while he waited for her to ask.

An overwhelming curiosity had her inviting him in before she could think better of it. Her intuition was blissfully silent and she took that as a good sign. But her pussy screamed to be introduced more intimately.

Thankfully, her roommate wasn’t fucking an entire football team in the living room, like she was last time Alyssa came home. She tossed her purse on the counter and grabbed two bottled waters from the fridge. She handed one to Stone who had already made himself comfortable on her couch. “So who am I?” she asked, as her fingers itched to trace the strong lines of his body. “Why did you come to find me? And who the hell are you?” Alyssa settled herself on the opposite end of the couch where she could watch him, and waited for him to dissolve at any instant.

He took his time studying her as she had him. Finally, he twisted the cap off the bottle of water and swallowed half in two large gulps. “You,” he pointed toward her, “are Alyssandra de Klatch, First Princess of the Klatch. And I’ve told you for years, one day I’d find you and we could finally be together.”

Shock traveled all the way to her gut. When she dreamed of him, he’d always called her Alyssandra or Princess. That was one of the reasons she’d always assumed he was purely a product of her overactive imagination. All of this was crazy, but something inside her knew he wasn’t lying. But a princess? Not likely.

“Stone,” she whispered.
I might be losing my mind, but if I
get to be insane with him for the rest of my life, I’ll take that over what I’ve lived for the past twenty-three years.

He nodded, his lopsided smile making his dimple more pronounced. “Yes, you remember me.” He looked pleased. “If you’d taken better care of yourself, witch, then you wouldn’t have had to subsist on dreams. Since I’m here now, we can rectify that situation.”

She blushed as she realized exactly what his definition of “rectify” was. “Stop calling me witch and just answer the rest of my questions!”
Or throw me on the floor now, and we can talk later…

He shook his head. “Your heritage is very strong.” He rubbed his stomach and chuckled. “As well as the rest of you. But you are a witch. A
Klatch
witch.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You said my name was Alyssandra de Klatch. But that still doesn’t make me a witch. And I was born Alyssa Moss.”

“No, actually you were stolen from your true family by Cunts.”

“Excuse me?” she demanded, shocked he would use the offensive term in front of her. “I’m far from prudish, but I
hate
that word.”

“As you should.” He laughed, the warm sexy sound, which had melted her in her dreams, even now caused her nipples to tighten against her thin cotton top. His eyes zeroed in on her shirt as if he knew. She blushed and looked away. “My apologies. You have lived among the humans for far too long to understand my reference. Long ago, the Klatch had a civil war and split into two factions, the original Klatch and a new faction who called themselves Cunts.”

Alyssa snorted in disbelief. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“As much as I’d like to fuck you…no. I do not joke about our history.” He took another long pull of the water and she was fascinated by the way his throat worked as he swallowed. She resisted a sudden urge to run her tongue over the dip in his throat where his Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes glinted with mirth and she was afraid he knew what she’d been thinking.

Mercifully, he continued without mentioning it. In one fluid movement, he stood and pulled her to him, pressing her against the long line of his body. Her breath caught in her throat and every inch of her body screamed for her to rub herself shamelessly against him—or maybe just throw him on the floor and impale herself on his cock.

The sudden urge slapped her back to reality and she bolted from his grasp, putting the couch between them. He merely chuckled and continued. “The word ‘cunt’ is used as a slur because witches interact with humans and they pick up on our language. ‘Cunt’ has become synonymous with ‘traitor’ and ‘outcast’ to any witch. Although the humans use it in a slightly different way. Now come and kiss me, Alyssandra, I want to finally feel your lips in the physical world.”

When he started around the couch after her, she held up a hand. “Wait.” She gave her traitorous body a firm talking to,
this can’t be real so work with me here,
and pierced him with her most skeptical stare. “What do witches have to do with this? You mean like Wiccans?”

He leaned forward resting his forearms on the back of the couch, causing the already tight black T-shirt to mold over the best shoulders she’d ever seen. Shoulders she knew she’d seen before—and felt before. She licked her lips at the sudden urge to trace each inch of his muscular shoulders with her tongue.

He continued, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Wiccans are humans who choose to practice a set of beliefs. Being Klatch is what you are.” He shook his head and sighed. “I can see the Cunts withheld from you your heritage. This must be remedied.” His hand snaked out to grab her arm and he pulled her to him across the back of the couch. When he cradled her in his lap on the couch, his strong arms bracketed around her, a sexual thrill zinged straight to her pussy. The fact that a very large bulge swelled against her hip only served to scramble her thoughts further.

He smiled, his eyes darkened dangerously. But a dangerous she knew from ten years of dreams that meant wonderful sexual things, not anything to harm her. Every erogenous zone in her body rejoiced, drowning her in a sea of sexual energy.

She put her fingers against his lips when he lowered his face to hers. “Please, tell me about the Klatch.” Anything to keep him talking until she could figure out how he evoked these feelings inside her.

“A Klatch witch is a being who needs sexual energy to survive. We also eat and drink, but in order to thrive, we must imbibe sexual energy.” He kissed the fingers still resting lightly against his lips and then pulled one into his mouth. He sucked on the tip and swirled his tongue in a familiar pattern she remembered him using on the soft underside of her clit—which throbbed in response. She pulled her finger away, her breathing coming in short gasps.

His voice was a low rumble when he spoke. “Intercourse is the best and easiest, but any kind of sexual energy will do: masturbation, voyeurism, or even sexual dreams.”

Alyssa found herself laughing despite the sexually charged atmosphere. “You’re trying to tell me I’m some kind of sexual vampire?”

“Good God, no.” He looked horrified at the suggestion. “You are no succubus, Princess. You are my betrothed and a full-blooded Princess of Klatch.”

“Betrothed?” She gasped, and her mouth fell open. “As in engaged to be married?”

He nodded. “Yes, most Klatch never marry. They will either have half-breed children with humans or just feed from humans sexually their whole lives. But the full-blooded Klatch are betrothed at birth to another of full blood to retain the line and our heritage.” He lowered his mouth to hers, but at the first jolting and very familiar touch of his lips, she squirmed out of his grasp and put half the room’s distance between them.

Alyssa’s mind whirled. When he was near her, it felt like all her circuits were on overload. She looked up into his darkened lavender eyes. The hunk of testosterone who sat across from her thought he was her fiancé? How lucky could she get? Her body immediately wanted to claim its conjugal rights. But then her overly logical mind weighed in and ruined everything.

“Look, I don’t even know you. You follow me home from work, scare me half to death and now you’re trying to tell me I’m some sort of witch who feeds off sex?” She paced back and forth in front of the coffee table. A large ball of lead settled in her gut and she knew at least some of what Stone said was true. She could feel it deep inside her. “Why did you wait until now to find me?”

“Alyssandra, I have searched for you for ten years. You were well hidden among the humans. When the civil war ended, they stole you as a bargaining tool so the king and queen would not hunt down the remaining Cunts. Then they slithered away to the human world to hide.” He stood and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know you believe and I also know you don’t want to. But tell me this. Did you fit in growing up? Are you like your parents or your siblings or even your friends?”

The awful truth hit her like a sledgehammer. She squeezed her eyes shut as tears burned at the back of her eyes. He was right. She’d never fit in and she never had any true friends. Her mother and father had fair hair and she had dark. Her pale lavender eyes had always been a topic of fascination or outright teasing and her early development of full hips and breasts had set her apart from her model-thin mother and sisters. She figured that’s why she’d dreamt of a handsome man who made her feel as if she belonged. But now, with him standing so close she could smell the woodsy musk of pure man, she knew better. “Are my adoptive parents…” She struggled with the word, “Cunts?”