Immortal Flame (23 page)

“Oh!” Hot, liquid waves of passion washed over her. Clutching the covers, she felt strangely suspended as he raised her to his mouth.

When he flicked her nub with his tongue and nipped at her, the muscles of her abdomen involuntarily jumped. He entered her again with two fingers while his mouth roved over her sensitive skin.

Thoughts and emotions and sensations spun together until she couldn't tell where her mind stopped and her body started.

Pressure began to build and she rocked against his mouth, opening her legs farther apart. His groans melded with her sharp gasps until she exploded beneath his lips, shuddering and bowing against the bed. He flicked his tongue over her, and she shuddered again, inner muscles clenching against his fingers.

Keeping his hand inside of her, he lowered her hips back to the bed. With a satisfied gleam that crinkled the lines around his dark eyes, he moved his fingers enough to cause tiny shudders to roll through her.

“Damn your control.” Allison let go of the covers, sat up, and ripped his shirt over his head.

Both of them kneeling now, she leaned forward to kiss Peter's muscled chest. Enjoying the scattering of rough hair on his chest, she nuzzled his flat nipples. When she ran her fingernails over the small of his back, he growled low in his throat. She undid the belt clasp, and the snick of his belt exiting the loops broke the silence.

“Allie, be careful,” he said, sweat beading his forehead. He actually shook as the muscles on his shoulders bunched tightly. His hands squeezed her waist as she unzipped his jeans.

When she ran her thumb over the glistening, heated tip of his erection, she awakened the sleeping giant.

• • •

Control gone, Peter roared and ripped off his jeans. Flipping her over again, he lifted Allie's hips and pushed her knees forward, relishing the view of her smooth buttocks and lean thighs.

As he parted her folds, the wetness when he caressed her drove him to the edge of sanity. When she quivered and panted as he slipped his fingers in, one and then two, alternating to keep her on edge, he nearly exploded.

At her desperate cries, he knelt behind her hips, his erection teasing her soft entrance. Unable to hold back any longer, he drove into her completely and then held still, a nearly impossible task as he absorbed the mental echoes of her passion.

Connected to Allie and kneeling over her, he ran his hands up and down her back. Leaning forward over her, he pinched one nipple. Her butt jerked in response, sending amazing sensations down his shaft. Peter guided her hips away from him and she whimpered, struggling to slide back onto him. He held her so he teased her further, tormenting them both until she whimpered in frustration.

“I need you now,” he breathed.

He brushed her hair forward over one shoulder so he could see her green eyes as she peered at him over the other.

Allison rose up on her forearms, her lean back curved gloriously, rotating her hips in an even sexier curve.

Hell, if he could burn that imagine into his mind, he'd be a happy man for the rest of eternity. Taking several deep breaths to slow things down, he guided her hips over his erection, never quite giving her the entire length. He reached one hand around and caressed her delicate flesh, feeling her silkiness inside and out.

“Peter,” she cried, trying to push back against him.

He shifted his knees to spread her legs even further. Pulling her hips up toward him, he plunged into her hard and fast. Peter wanted to brand her as his own. Years of pent-up frustration mixed with the raw desire shared through their connection. He thrust harder, Allie shuddering each time he drove into her. He had to be completely inside her, possess her. She was his. He needed her.

With one hand, he rolled her heated nub, loving how she arched her back and gave a soft moan.
Mine
was his only coherent thought as he pulled her hips back onto his erection. Her muscles spasmed, driving him over the edge. Their cries filled the room as he released into her. Allie fell limp on the blankets, her hips still raised with him inside.

Satisfied by the view of her sweaty, sated body beneath him, he ran his hand down her back and over her curves. When he withdrew from her, the loss of connection created an instant longing to be with her again. Peter turned her over and pulled her into his arms.

Her pupils had become so large, mere slivers of green with tiny glints of gold surrounded them.

“Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head and smiled.

“I shouldn't—”

She cut him off with a kiss and flung her arms around his neck, clinging to him as she shook. He held her tightly, trying to absorb all of her tremors, rubbing her back until she finally calmed down.

When she leaned back, her mossy green gaze was luminous. He'd never seen a woman this beautiful. In wonderment, he ran his fingers over her body, enveloped in his embrace.
Mine
, he thought, as they drifted in the aftermath of their passion.

One more quick shower later, Allie and Peter left the doctor's lounge. In the ER, they checked on Quincy's status. The girl would stay overnight for observation, but she would recover.

With a nod to the beaming receptionist, Peter exited the ER, Allie by his side, with a whoosh of the sliding doors. He needed to get her home to rest, and he had to formulate a plan to deal with Anton.

They ran directly into Dante and another man.

“Yo, Peter, bro! What the hell happened to you? You look terrible.” Dante ran up and pounded him on the arm. His blond hair was fashionably mussed, making him appear like an angel on steroids instead of the massive mess Peter knew him to be.

But he stopped cold when he saw Dante's companion. The balding man was stooped and frail, with liver spots on his forehead and hands, but Peter would've recognized the jaunty glint in those wise eyes anywhere.

“Barnaby?”

“Nice to see you, old friend.” He shook Peter's hand. “Now who's old, hmm?”

The happiness his friend exuded spoke volumes of a life well lived. Never mind that it had taken Barnaby four centuries to achieve that—at least he'd done it.

Peter hugged him, careful of the man's hunched back and thin bones.

His friend chuckled. “I might be old, but I won't break. And I'm not blind, either. Hello, my dear!” he said to Allie. He bestowed a courtly kiss to the back of her hand. “You must be the special lady Peter's mentioned. Oh, and did you get a sense of death from me when we shook hands?”

She paled. “I'm not … I didn't … ”

In a mock whisper, Barnaby said, “I know you're a Ward, my dear. I'm the one who helped Peter figure it out.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Lucky boy, getting you. My Ward was a seventy-year-old Confederate widow. Lovely lady, but her age necessitated more of a platonic relationship, if you know what I mean.”

Allie flushed red.

Dante stepped up, plainly appreciating Allie's trim figure in scrubs.

Clearing his throat, Peter stepped in front of her, obscuring Dante's perusal. “So what brings you here, guys? Passing through?” Hopefully his friends would take the hint and not alarm Allie.

But as usual, Dante didn't get any hints unless they were boulder-sized and hurled with great force. “I thought we were helping him kill that guy—” At an arch glare from Barnaby, he clamped his mouth shut.

Allie touched Peter's arm. “Maybe you all want to go somewhere and catch up?”

“It would be nice to talk with my friend, for old time's sake.” Barnaby sketched a shallow bow. “Lovely to meet you, milady. I hope to pass time in your pleasant company again in the future.” He straightened. “And that sounds possible since you didn't see my death!”

Dante stuck out a massive paw of a hand to Allie. “If he's not good to you”—he motioned toward Peter—“let me know and I'll take care of him. And I'll take care of you, too, if you want.” He winked, and Allie blushed again.

Peter extricated her hand from Dante's grip and walked her to the car. “Do you want to stay here at the hospital until we get back?”

She smiled, despite the fatigue etching dark smudges beneath her gold-flecked eyes. “I'll go check on Ivy and run errands in town. There are lots of people around. It'll be fine.”

“I don't like it.”

She tsked wearily. “It's daylight and business hours. I'll be fine in crowds of shoppers and at the vet office.”

“The guys will drop me off at your place.” He ran one finger over her soft cheek, loving the spark of connection that arrowed into his groin. “I'll wait for you there. If I'm not there, go back to the hospital.”

“I'll be a while in town, so don't worry. And I have a date with my bed, so don't get any fancy ideas. And we still need to talk.”

She drove out of the parking lot.

When he turned around, Dante stood right behind him, an appreciative glint in his eyes.

“She's babelicious, bro.”

“Dante, enough with the slang. You're 300 years old.”

Dante flashed a superstar-white smile. “Keeps me young, my friend.”

Barnaby shuffled over. “Let's go someplace to talk, gentlemen.”

“Well, one of you needs to drive. My transportation left,” Peter said.

“Shotgun!” Dante called out.

“You idiot, you're the driver,” Peter groaned as they approached the Hummer.

“You know any place good to eat?” Barnaby asked. “I'm rather peckish.”

“There are some places near the interstate where we can get a cup of coffee.”

“Or lunch?” Dante asked.

Damn Dante and his bottomless stomach. It would have to be Denny's. Once they were seated, his friend proceeded to order three entrées, rubbing his belly in anticipation. Dante hadn't gotten the memo about the Indebted not having much of an appetite.

Barnaby dipped his head and chuckled. “What about your fetchingly girlish figure?”

Dante grinned broadly. “Doesn't change, no matter how much or how little I eat. So I might as well enjoy!” He studied the waitress's cleavage when she leaned over to place their drinks on the table.

“What exactly are you enjoying, Dante?” Peter asked.

His friend unwrapped his silverware, the fork and knife disappearing in his big hands. “Everything, bro! Opportunities are all around, gastronomical and carnal. The world is my
smorgåsbord
.”

Once the food arrived, Peter couldn't wait any longer to get to the point. “So why're you two here anyway?”

“Helping you out, my boy. Jerahmeel sent you a rank bastard. I heard a little about what happened to that child and your lady. They could've died.”

“How'd you know that?”

“Police scanner in Dante's car. Comes in handy.” The lines in the old man's face deepened as he grinned.

Peter gripped the coffee mug. Yeah, given Quincy's limp body and Allie gasping for breath as the mine collapsed behind them, it was a miracle they hadn't died.

Dante pointed to the cracks in Peter's ceramic mug. “Whoa, bro, ease up there. Don't go making a mess.”

“Sorry.” With effort, he relaxed his hand. “You were saying, Barnaby?”

“This minion, he's the worst I've spied. And after 400-some years, I've seen some bad people in this line of business.”

Peter rubbed his temple. “I wounded him pretty badly.”

“Doesn't matter. Might slow him down for a few days or a few weeks.”

“What if I leave town and never return?” He'd do it in a heartbeat if it kept Allie and her family safe.

“You don't understand, my boy. Of course if you complete your contract, that's bad for Jerahmeel's power supply. The problem is, if you're not working for them, then they want to make what life you have remaining a living hell. You know that they'll try to take away all that you love so you suffer torment until you finally die of natural causes. The rules bind me from telling you specific details, but please know that I feared gravely for Jane's life.”

“What are you saying?” Cold dread speared Peter's gut.

“Anyone connected to you is not safe. Doesn't matter if you're here or on the other side of the world, they know. And that's how they're going to get to you.”

“So I have to find the minion and kill him.”

Barnaby and Dante nodded.

“And keep anyone I care about, and everyone
she
cares about, safe?”

They nodded again.

Peter laughed. “What about Jerahmeel simply coming in behind the minion and finishing the job himself? He's powerful enough to do it.”

Barnaby rubbed his sagging jowls. “He cannot involve himself directly. Also, my boy, recognize that the Meaningful Kill is not so much about the numbers of kills or the types of kills, but about you.”

“I don't understand.”

“I know, and I can't give you more information. You'll figure it out. But what I can tell you is that Jerahmeel is not allowed to physically impact what happens here on Earth. That's why we must provide him with nourishment, when we take the life forces into the knives. That's why he created minions to destroy people.”

“What do you mean, ‘figure it out'? It's not Anton I have to kill?”

“Maybe not. I've said too much, my boy, but you're close.”

Peter blew out a long breath. “So all I need to do is keep anyone near me safe, destroy the minion before he kills everyone, and somehow figure out the Meaningful Kill on my own.”

Barnaby nodded.

Dante continued to pillage his five-course meal.

“Sounds easy enough,” Peter quipped. “Which part are you two helping me with?”

Dante paused after consuming most of a baked potato in one bite. His grin would have been handsome if it weren't for the malicious glint in his baby blue, killing-machine eyes. “Any part you'd like. I'll give you dibs on killing the minion yourself, even though we all know I'd do a better job. He did attack the woman you love and an innocent girl.”