Fleeing Fate (3 page)

Jakuta opened a door at the back of the room and stood
waiting for her to catch up. Taking a deep breath, Gràinne lifted her chin and
gave him a stern look.

“This is strictly business, okay? Nothing more. I need to
get that tattoo tonight, don’t have time to fool around.”

Jakuta quirked one eyebrow, giving her another one of those
sexy, intent-filled smiles in return. “Anything you like, sweetness. Anything
you like.”

Immediately her mind was flooded with images of what she
thought she might like—forbidden, desperately lusty things—and another wave of
heat suffused her face.

Strange now to think that during her time beyond the Veil
she’d seen innumerable humans caught in the throes of lust, had observed them
dispassionately, without even a hint of curiosity. Now she recalled each
moment, the twist of a body as it joined with another, the thrust of a cock
between receptive lips, the high keening cry of a woman finding orgasm. She had
no memory of actually ever being intimate with a man, yet the sensations
writhing inside seemed thrillingly familiar, brought with them cravings she
couldn’t deny. Her mouth watered to taste Jakuta’s skin, to hear him groan with
need as she teased his body. Her pussy tightened as she imagined his tongue
sweeping through the folds, his lips closing over her clitoris, sucking and
kissing her to release.

But most of all, she wanted to be beneath his massive body,
covered and filled by him, looking up into those swirling, compelling eyes,
feeling the storm rising around and inside them, taking them higher and higher…

As though hearing the thoughts, Jakuta laughed softly and
repeated, “Anything you like.”

Goddess give me strength.

But somehow Gràinne knew the prayer wouldn’t help. She was
the only one who could stave off this tempest of desire.

Following Jakuta down the passageway, she tried not to watch
the way he walked, the smooth motion of his strides, the flex and shift of his
muscular ass. But each time she glanced away, trying to take in her
surroundings, her eyes were drawn back to him like iron to a lodestone. Telling
herself it was only the newness of being able to feel, the unfamiliar rush of
emotions and sensations, really didn’t seem to help. Everything inside strained
toward him, wanting to watch, to touch, to smell and taste him.

Before coming to the Midnight Café all she’d wanted was a
chance to find the truth, no matter where it might lead. Now she found herself
longing for the one thing she knew she didn’t have—more time to explore this
man and the emotions he brought to life in her soul.

“Well, sweetness, that’s the last one, and I don’t see
mention of banshees anywhere.” Jakuta closed the tome and rested his hand on
the leather cover, watching the play of emotions crossing Gràinne’s face. “I
guess your kind isn’t heavy into body art. I’m going to have to buy you dinner
instead.”

Despite the blush immediately staining her cheeks, she sent
him a look that would quell a lesser man, and Jakuta sighed to himself, even as
it made him want to laugh. They’d spent an hour going through Hervé’s books,
with no luck. Every moment they spent together was subtle torment, and his
temper was beginning to fray. Though she’d tried to keep her distance,
occasionally Gràinne would come to lean over his shoulder, and her proximity
spiked the need gnawing at his belly. There was only so much even a god could
take. The restraint he’d displayed by not dragging her into his lap, kissing
and touching her the way his body demanded, deserved a medal.

Jakuta was inclined to give up, use the time to explore the
wicked lust building between them, but he knew she wouldn’t agree. Something
was driving her, forcing her to prowl with impatience, and he already knew she
wouldn’t give up until she got it.

“There must be some information.” She paced from the
cushion-covered daybed on one side of the room to the opposite wall where
bookshelves lined Hervé’s office so as to run her finger over the titles.
“Banshees have been around for a very long time.”

Watching the small digit skimming the spines of the books
made a hot shiver of longing wash over his chest. He was drawn to her in so
many ways it was almost frightening. Physically his need was almost painful,
yet it wasn’t strong enough to negate his intense curiosity, the strange and
overpowering urge to keep her safe, although she didn’t seem to be in danger.

Unable to resist, he got up and moved to stand behind her,
taking in a deep draught of her fresh, sea-spray scent. The urge to surround
her with his arms, pull her into his embrace, made his voice rough as he
replied, “Your kind may be old, but tattooing of the higher beings isn’t. Up
until a couple hundred years ago only arcane wizards had the ability to bespell
markings onto their skins, so the art is still growing.”

She shivered, and he knew their proximity was affecting her,
just as it affected him. His cock was harder than he could remember it ever
being, desire pulsing through every vein, and knowing just standing close
caused her body to react made the yearning that much more acute.

“So I’ll be the first.” Gràinne’s voice was breathy, but
determined. “You can figure it out, right?”

His heart dropped into his belly. This was one
responsibility he didn’t want. “Every new being who decides to get body art
adds to the knowledge, but it’s risky being the first, sweetness.”

She turned to look at him, her sea-foam-green eyes
reflecting equal parts fear and resolve. “I’ve heard that, but I don’t care,
Jakuta. I have to have this tattoo.”

What the hell is she after?

“Why?”

But she only shook her head, lowering her gaze so he
couldn’t read anything in her eyes. “What else can we do?” Spinning back toward
the shelves, she continued perusing the titles. “There must be something in one
of these damn books.”

Suddenly the knowledge came to him, as though the Orixás
whispered the information into his ear—whatever she was planning was dangerous,
and it was up to him to…

The intuition faded, leaving him floundering. What was he
supposed to do? Help her? Stop her?

Protect her.

How?

No answer came for the question, and he swore silently. What
he really wanted was to strip her down, discover if the skin hidden by her
clothes was as soft and pale as her face, if her body really reacted to his
closeness the way his did to hers. He wasn’t given to altruistic impulses, had
spectacularly failed in the role of protector in the past. The thought of
having this one small banshee dependent on his ability to keep her safe filled
him with something akin to fear, and a healthy dose of rage.

“All right, sweetness.” His voice was harsh and he didn’t
try to temper it. By Obatala, if he had to do this, he’d do it on his terms,
ensure he got even a little satisfaction out of it. “I have an idea, but it’ll
cost you to find out.”

“What is it?” She spun to face him, and the eager trust in
her eyes almost made him back down. “I don’t care what it costs, I’ll pay.”

He stepped near, smiled when her instinctive retreat brought
her back up hard against the bookcase. Reaching out, he whisked the hat from
her head, watched as a mass of fine, pale hair tumbled down to her shoulders
and her lips rounded into a silent
oh
of surprise. Resting his hands on
the shelf on either side of her head, he leaned in, reveling in the hot wash of
color rising from her collar, the way her eyes darkened and became
storm-tossed.

“A kiss, and I’ll tell you.”

The color receded from her cheeks and then rushed back even
brighter. “Jakuta…”

He shrugged, moved in closer, crowding her, knowing she’d
feel the lightning sparking through his body as a physical tingling on her
skin. “One kiss, sweetness.” The thunder of his blood colored his words, making
them rumble and roll. “Just one kiss.”

The rasp of her breathing scraped across his nerves,
tightening them until they sang with need. She licked her lips and he groaned,
desperate to taste her.

“I shouldn’t.” Was it fear or regret that made her voice
tremble? “It’s forbidden.”

Shaking his head, he smiled without a shred of amusement. “I
may be banished from my land, have lost my followers to an upstart, but I’m
still Orixá, a god. Nothing is forbidden to me.”

She was trembling, her fingers clutching at the shelf behind
her hips, and he knew if he dipped his head she wouldn’t pull away. It was
there in her eyes, in the way her lips softened and parted slightly. But he
waited, wanting to hear her accept his offer. Nothing taken was as valuable as
that which was given, and her kiss would be a hundred times more exquisite if
proffered.

“I don’t dare.”

“Really?” He was so close when he inhaled he took in the
breath her words were borne on. “I think you’re planning to dare far more
tonight. Would one little kiss make it any worse?”

Acknowledgement flared in her eyes, and he knew the instant
she decided to give in to the temptation. By the time she went up on her toes
to press her lips to his, the thunder of his heart was deafening, the
anticipation almost painful.

By the Orixás…

At the first gentle touch of her mouth, tentative and
questing, his brain ceased to function, and his body became a column of flaring
sensation, centered on that one point of contact.

For a moment neither of them seemed able to move, caught and
held by the simple, but so very intimate touch. Jakuta breathed her in,
absorbed her heat, pressed a little closer to sweep the seam of her lips with
his tongue. A shiver climbed his spine as she held her ground, not moving away
from the exploration. Then she moaned, her lips opening beneath his, and Jakuta
tilted his head, deepening the kiss to the point of plunder.

But she was right there with him, twining her tongue with
his, nipping and sucking at his bottom lip, driving him crazy with the little
sounds of pleasure she breathed into his mouth.

Her arms came up around his neck, holding him, pulling him
even closer, her fingers cupping his nape and shoulder. Everywhere she touched
burned, the fire streaking through his muscles and sinews, arrowing into his
cock, making his balls ache with arousal.

Need consumed him, ate at his control, whispered for him to
tear away the garments hiding her body, take his fill of her sweetness. Yet he
couldn’t make his hands release their grip on the shelf beside her head, or his
feet move so as to press against her the way he longed to. He’d said one kiss,
and while everything inside clamored for more he’d hold himself to his word,
even if it killed him.

And it felt like it just might.

The amazing intimacy of the moment seemed to bring all his
power to fruition, making it rise and swirl inside, fighting for release, as
though to create the perfect storm. Already he could imagine the lightning, the
gale-force winds buffeting them in time to the rhythm of his thrusting body.
Warm spears of rain would fall on them, making their skin slick, so they glided
against each other without friction, the only resistance provided by the clinging
flesh of her pussy as it gripped his cock.

By Obatala.

The image was so strong he shuddered, nearing orgasm. Head
swimming, he tried to pull back, but she came with him, refusing to allow him
to break away. Taken to the brink of madness by her response, he grabbed her
shoulders but couldn’t bring himself to thrust her away. Instead he took his
time, gentling the kiss in the tiniest increments, slowing it down until their
lips clung softly together, and then parted slightly.

“Oh Goddess.”

Gràinne sounded as lost as he felt, her words just a breath
of sound. Jakuta took in great gulps of air, forcing the tempest raging inside
back until he knew it to be under control once more. Reaching up, he loosened
her grip and brought her hands down, holding them at her sides. Her closed
eyelids fluttered and the tip of her tongue touched the center of her upper
lip.

The storm rumbled, the sight of her passion-flushed face,
trembling body and swollen mouth testing the boundaries of his discipline.

Releasing her, he stepped back, knew it wasn’t far enough,
and took another step.

Her hand came up, fingers lightly touching her mouth as
though in wonder, and he had to turn away, grinding his teeth so as not to go
back and take her where she stood. His entire body trembled, and no amount of
effort seemed able to stop it. Striding across to the desk, he flung himself
into the chair behind it, suppressing a groan of pain as his jeans tightened
across his engorged cock.

Gràinne hadn’t moved, except now her eyes were open, watching
him. He couldn’t read her expression, but her stillness called to him almost as
strongly as her passion. Jakuta gripped the arms of the chair, felt the leather
give under his hands with a creak of protest, and forced his brain back to the
matter at hand.

“Tell me your lore.”

Frustration made his voice rough, the harsh tone hinting at
the typhoon still roiling in his belly.

“What?” She blinked, as though awaking from a dream, and
shook her head. Her hand fell to her throat, plucked at the neckline of her
coat as she repeated, “What?”

“Banshee lore.” Jakuta’s voice faltered as Gràinne tugged
open the first button of her trench coat and started on the second. A strip of
skin came into view between the lapels, a soft valley, gleaming like satin, and
he swallowed hard, trying not to drool.

“Why do you need to know that?”

“Eh?” She’d opened another button but now her fingers
stilled. Dragging his gaze away from her cleavage, Jakuta blinked, struggling
to remember what he’d been saying. “Sometimes knowing where a being originated
can help determine the best way to ink them.”

“Oh.” She still sounded slightly befuddled, but finally
moved away from the bookcase, shedding her coat and throwing it over the back
of a chair as she walked toward the desk.

Finally he could see the shape of her body and couldn’t stop
himself from staring. She was small but voluptuous, with beautifully rounded
hips, strong thighs, a small waist and firm, high breasts. A dark-blue silk
blouse made her skin pearlescent, the v-neck drawing his attention back to the
shadowy cleft between her gently jiggling breasts.

Sitting opposite him, she sighed and then said, “I don’t
think banshee lore will help.”

The words hardly registered.

No bra.

He tightened his hold on the arms of the chair, tearing his
gaze away to stare sightlessly at one of the books in front of him.

They are just breasts, Jakuta. When you ruled as king in
the human world you had hundreds of wives, none of whom covered their torsos.

And none of whom reduced him to this pitch of helpless
hunger.

“Lore says the banshee were one of the races created from
the raising of the elves after the Great Purge.”

“The Great Purge?” It came out as a question, although he
hadn’t meant it to. He scrambled to get his brain out of his pants and back into
his head, but his cock seemed determined to hold reason to ransom until Jakuta
gave in to its demands.

“You don’t know what the Great Purge is?” Her voice was
equal parts scandalized and amused. “I thought everyone knew that part of Fey
history.”

That brought his eyes up to meet hers. Why did the Western
races think their history was the only in existence, and the most important?
Raising one eyebrow, knowing he looked haughty and not giving a damn, he asked,
“Do you know the stories of Nana Buluku, of Oduduwa or Mawu-Lisa?”

Confusion clouded her face, and then, with a rueful smile,
she said, “No, I don’t.”

Unable to help it, he smiled back. “I’ll tell you about them
and all the Orixás of Dahomey one day. But now, tell me about this Great
Purge.”

Gràinne sat up straighter, leaned forward. “In the days when
our world was still young, and the one beyond the Veil younger yet, the elves
predominated and ruled wherever they dwelled. Two clans were the strongest, and
each thought the other should swear fealty. They argued about who should rule
all the land and soon arguing turned to fighting.”

Jakuta shook his head. “And fighting to war.” Wasn’t that
one of the oldest stories in existence?

“Yes.” She nodded, used her hands to inscribe an arc through
the air, a born storyteller in her element. “The war spread until almost the
entire world had joined in and peace seemed unattainable. Effects of the
fighting even began to encroach on the human side of the Veil, causing fires,
floods and tidal waves. Eventually, when it seemed as though war would consume
everything, the dragons intervened.”